Bad wood underneath the veneer
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
I was a...
Well, here's the latest creation upon first draft. I would like to add another verse, naturally, but I know you're interested in this Dan M:
I was a deep sigh
After a harvest
You were sarcastic
I took it the hardest
(musical interlude)
I was a fast ball
Brought to a standstill
You were a big deal
Down at the highschool
Just give me a minute
I'll come down to see you go
Man, don't look like that
I'll come down to see you go
(musical interlude)
I was the lead ball
Dragged in your chain gang
You were custodian
While I still got the hang...
(musical interlude)
I was a street curb
Watching a car crash
You were a thumbed nose
Not batting an eyelash
I'll save you a minute
I'll stay up here to see you go
Man, don't look like that
I'm watching from my window
¶ 11:27 PM 1 comments
I was a deep sigh
After a harvest
You were sarcastic
I took it the hardest
(musical interlude)
I was a fast ball
Brought to a standstill
You were a big deal
Down at the highschool
Just give me a minute
I'll come down to see you go
Man, don't look like that
I'll come down to see you go
(musical interlude)
I was the lead ball
Dragged in your chain gang
You were custodian
While I still got the hang...
(musical interlude)
I was a street curb
Watching a car crash
You were a thumbed nose
Not batting an eyelash
I'll save you a minute
I'll stay up here to see you go
Man, don't look like that
I'm watching from my window
¶ 11:27 PM 1 comments
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Sponge
Today I had a nervous breakdown. I thought it might be cathartic to record. So I re-tooled a song I wrote after A. dumped me. It occurred to me today that as bad as I felt today, I felt like that a lot last semester. So I guess I can appreciate what I wrote then a lot more in light of some stability in between panic attacks and depression. This song is the most emo thing I've done, so shove off if it bothers you so much. Here's the link. The Sponge
Also, if you're missing some of my other stuff, go here. ¶ 3:31 AM 0 comments
Also, if you're missing some of my other stuff, go here. ¶ 3:31 AM 0 comments
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Chairman Ralph
If he sang one of his songs, he sang them all. Each contained and was quite limited to the theme of Apathy. His songs had a smooth monotony to them. He accompanied himself in an utilitarian manner. Singing through a cheap mic. Dead chords on a cheap Yamaha guitar.
HAHAHA
His songs possessed a rhythmic consistency. "Lilting" sounds too delicate. It was bouncy, but bludgeoning at the same time. Melodically, there was....well...I'm not going to flatter the man...there was no melody; there was only spoken word, emphasizing where he stressed things guitar-wise.
As a casualty of the corporate world (particularly the advertising business), his lyrics dealt directly with the economy of a disenfranchised, over weight, middle-aged white man's mind, as was his luck to still be on the bottom of the proverbial totem pole. He maintained that the world (corporate shams and otherwise) didn't give a shit. Not that it owed it to him. No, he was way beyond that stage in the mosaic construction of his neuroses. (Yes, no enthusiastic shouts "Fuck The Man!" spat forth mid-song.)
He wasn't melodramatic. Don't get me wrong; he wasn't that funny either. His song, "Mission Statement," captured the absurdity of the corporate world best, tossing in "Natural male enhancements for Bob!" His wife...dear God...I could never forget how truly large this woman was. I suspect she weighed in excess of four hundred pounds (maybe five). He affectionately referred to her as the "Budgey Manager," and talked to her in the audience between most of his songs. He seemed to really love her. She seemed to be his reason, if you will.
Can I say that Chairman Ralph was a good musician? Was he somebody I wanted to be listening to, bored out of my mind, on a Saturday night? Was he changing the world? No, no, and no. But I think his music performed (inadvertently, I suspect) an uncanny act of mimesis on the subjects he dealt with. That is, if the world didn't give a shit, then he displayed the same sentiment in return. If the daily monotonous grind was all the world had to offer him, he was only going to offer the same doldrums musically. It wasn't good. But I had to ask myself, "If this was pretty sounding, would it really fit? If Jerry Bruckheimer shot a film in Hillsdale, would it really fit?"
So that was Chairman Ralph.
Imaginary convo:
Riley: So here's my song (presents lyrics).
Steve: Do you really feel like 'your heart will never love again'? It seems kind of maudlin.
Riley: I guess I don't really feel that way. I don't know why I wrote it like that.
Steve: Well, I mean, Johnny Cash never shot a man in Reno either.
Riley: He didn't?!
Steve: .... ¶ 8:26 PM 1 comments
HAHAHA
His songs possessed a rhythmic consistency. "Lilting" sounds too delicate. It was bouncy, but bludgeoning at the same time. Melodically, there was....well...I'm not going to flatter the man...there was no melody; there was only spoken word, emphasizing where he stressed things guitar-wise.
As a casualty of the corporate world (particularly the advertising business), his lyrics dealt directly with the economy of a disenfranchised, over weight, middle-aged white man's mind, as was his luck to still be on the bottom of the proverbial totem pole. He maintained that the world (corporate shams and otherwise) didn't give a shit. Not that it owed it to him. No, he was way beyond that stage in the mosaic construction of his neuroses. (Yes, no enthusiastic shouts "Fuck The Man!" spat forth mid-song.)
He wasn't melodramatic. Don't get me wrong; he wasn't that funny either. His song, "Mission Statement," captured the absurdity of the corporate world best, tossing in "Natural male enhancements for Bob!" His wife...dear God...I could never forget how truly large this woman was. I suspect she weighed in excess of four hundred pounds (maybe five). He affectionately referred to her as the "Budgey Manager," and talked to her in the audience between most of his songs. He seemed to really love her. She seemed to be his reason, if you will.
Can I say that Chairman Ralph was a good musician? Was he somebody I wanted to be listening to, bored out of my mind, on a Saturday night? Was he changing the world? No, no, and no. But I think his music performed (inadvertently, I suspect) an uncanny act of mimesis on the subjects he dealt with. That is, if the world didn't give a shit, then he displayed the same sentiment in return. If the daily monotonous grind was all the world had to offer him, he was only going to offer the same doldrums musically. It wasn't good. But I had to ask myself, "If this was pretty sounding, would it really fit? If Jerry Bruckheimer shot a film in Hillsdale, would it really fit?"
So that was Chairman Ralph.
Imaginary convo:
Riley: So here's my song (presents lyrics).
Steve: Do you really feel like 'your heart will never love again'? It seems kind of maudlin.
Riley: I guess I don't really feel that way. I don't know why I wrote it like that.
Steve: Well, I mean, Johnny Cash never shot a man in Reno either.
Riley: He didn't?!
Steve: .... ¶ 8:26 PM 1 comments
Friday, February 10, 2006
Next Show
. Tonight. ~ 9 pm, snack bar, coffee and root beer floats (free, I think), and I'll be playing a little set. You'll find me teetering on the fence between New Weird America and my folk/country songs of previous fancies.
¶ 2:34 AM 0 comments
.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Could ya not stop?
And hey there, little sexy pig, you made it with a man
And now you've got a little kid with hooves instead of hands
- Devendra
I wrote a little song for my 11-year-old sister yesterday. It came to me when I saw little Sophia Jackson darting around the church basement last Sunday, and I remembered watching my sister when she was that age. Now she's a burgeoning teenager with problems and it's really sad (although, it comes with other, different joys). She still has this innocence about her that I really hope she keeps forever.
"Can You Not Stop?"
Your eyes pierced through the afternoon
Searching reflections in balloons
And climbing steeples, burning buildings
Could you not stop?
Oh please don't stop.
I saw you shifting in your seat
Asking why the lambs do bleat
And seatbelt smiles halting bitter words
Could you not stop?
Oh please don't stop
Being young
Being young
Little you sleeping on my chest
With candies stuck to your Sunday best
Innocent trembles and sighs that kindle
Could you not stop?
Oh please don't stop
Being young
Being young
Currently listening to: Danielson Famile (and a rare castrato)
¶ 7:34 PM 0 comments
And now you've got a little kid with hooves instead of hands
- Devendra
I wrote a little song for my 11-year-old sister yesterday. It came to me when I saw little Sophia Jackson darting around the church basement last Sunday, and I remembered watching my sister when she was that age. Now she's a burgeoning teenager with problems and it's really sad (although, it comes with other, different joys). She still has this innocence about her that I really hope she keeps forever.
"Can You Not Stop?"
Your eyes pierced through the afternoon
Searching reflections in balloons
And climbing steeples, burning buildings
Could you not stop?
Oh please don't stop.
I saw you shifting in your seat
Asking why the lambs do bleat
And seatbelt smiles halting bitter words
Could you not stop?
Oh please don't stop
Being young
Being young
Little you sleeping on my chest
With candies stuck to your Sunday best
Innocent trembles and sighs that kindle
Could you not stop?
Oh please don't stop
Being young
Being young
Currently listening to: Danielson Famile (and a rare castrato)
¶ 7:34 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
My future
I'm getting a trim tomorrow. I was afraid the current stasis of my mane has become far too mullet-like. For now, I'm going to get a trim in the back and leave the rest for growing. So I will let out a last hooray for the surfer/beach bum, pizza-delivery boy look, before I surrender to my fate of receding hairlines and artful professor looks. (Noooo, I'm just a really young, hip professor!)
¶ 6:07 PM 0 comments
Monday, February 06, 2006
Danger Kart!
Click pic for bigger and more accurate represntation.
Bringing Danger to a theater near you, this winter -- only this time, it's two men enter, no man go out, Rated R, starring Mel Gibson.
(The mouse mask/masthead is mine) ¶ 8:25 PM 0 comments
Click pic for bigger and more accurate represntation.
(The mouse mask/masthead is mine) ¶ 8:25 PM 0 comments
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Okay, now I'm not even trying
I made a fledgling attempt to sound like Jeff Tweedy, as I recorded Wilco's "Ashes of American Flags." If anyone is interested, I could send it to you. Email me. It's not going up anywhere.
People don't use the word "quixotic" enough. I know so many English majors who claim they've read Don Quixote, but no one seems to use that word. In Scrabble terms, that word could be collossal.
(and our non sequitor for this evening)
Bugles: other snacks are pointless!
Currently listening to:
Currently eating:
Salt, corn, lard...mmmm...corporate genius. ¶ 12:18 AM 0 comments
People don't use the word "quixotic" enough. I know so many English majors who claim they've read Don Quixote, but no one seems to use that word. In Scrabble terms, that word could be collossal.
(and our non sequitor for this evening)
Bugles: other snacks are pointless!
Currently listening to:
Currently eating:
Salt, corn, lard...mmmm...corporate genius. ¶ 12:18 AM 0 comments
Friday, February 03, 2006
45 years ago
On this day, forty-five years ago, Bob Dylan cut his first record, San Francisco Bay Blues. That was a good day.
¶ 11:03 AM 2 comments
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Jacob and Joseph: Enacting Desire
I was relating to Silliman a bit ago my recent interest in - wait for it - mimetic theory and the writings of René Girard. Basically, I'm tired of this Mickey Mouse approach I've taken to learning. Anyway, I'm beginning to grasp it on a conceptual level. This is the manifest destiny I've come to; namely, being interested in all this shit you guys (Sill., Luke, etc.) talk about, and not remaining blissfully ignorant all the time. So yes, bandwagon - or call it copy-cat if it suits you. Regardless, this is good stuff.
So I've undertaken Sacrificing Commentary, by Sandor (Sandy) Goodhart. The first chapter dealing in the Bible is his treatment of Joseph, Jacob and his brothers. In the interest of not paining myself with the task of putting this in my own words, here are some exerpts:
"Joseph recognizes, in short, that his father sees him as aristocratic, as special. Wanting to please his father (he is, we recall, seventeen years old), he begins acting the way his father thinks of him. He puts on his father's 'coat of many colors' as it were, he thinks of himself as special just as his father thinks of him, he mimes or imitates his father's view of him.
Thus we come to understand his giving 'evil report' to Jacob about his brothers. It is less important that we determine precisely what the brothers may or may not have done to deserve such report than that we recognize that the action of giving it is a mimetic appropriation on Joseph's part of his father's view of the situation. For his father indirectly has already given evil report of the brothers by favoring Joseph to begin with, and Joseph is simply enacting Jacob's desire in return. (emphasis mine)"
More on this pending better understanding.
So I'm beginning to understand this stuff. Anyway, on a broader scale, my reading and treatment of literature, etc. has losened, changed, whathaveyou. The movie, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels revealed to me something interesting, for instance. You can look at that movie, and go "Gee, those guys are sweet. They got away with this in dumb luck." But consider that a comedy is only an inverted tragedy. Consider the real lesson in the movie: Don't screw around with high-stakes card-playing and crime lords with a penchant for terrible things, because you'll never get lucky enough in the end to survive it. The movie isn't (maybe isn't is too strong; how about, shouldn't be) a prescription for getting involved in the crime world. It's a prescription for staying out, because you'll likely wind up dead. And we aren't that cool. ¶ 11:39 PM 0 comments
So I've undertaken Sacrificing Commentary, by Sandor (Sandy) Goodhart. The first chapter dealing in the Bible is his treatment of Joseph, Jacob and his brothers. In the interest of not paining myself with the task of putting this in my own words, here are some exerpts:
"Joseph recognizes, in short, that his father sees him as aristocratic, as special. Wanting to please his father (he is, we recall, seventeen years old), he begins acting the way his father thinks of him. He puts on his father's 'coat of many colors' as it were, he thinks of himself as special just as his father thinks of him, he mimes or imitates his father's view of him.
Thus we come to understand his giving 'evil report' to Jacob about his brothers. It is less important that we determine precisely what the brothers may or may not have done to deserve such report than that we recognize that the action of giving it is a mimetic appropriation on Joseph's part of his father's view of the situation. For his father indirectly has already given evil report of the brothers by favoring Joseph to begin with, and Joseph is simply enacting Jacob's desire in return. (emphasis mine)"
More on this pending better understanding.
So I'm beginning to understand this stuff. Anyway, on a broader scale, my reading and treatment of literature, etc. has losened, changed, whathaveyou. The movie, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels revealed to me something interesting, for instance. You can look at that movie, and go "Gee, those guys are sweet. They got away with this in dumb luck." But consider that a comedy is only an inverted tragedy. Consider the real lesson in the movie: Don't screw around with high-stakes card-playing and crime lords with a penchant for terrible things, because you'll never get lucky enough in the end to survive it. The movie isn't (maybe isn't is too strong; how about, shouldn't be) a prescription for getting involved in the crime world. It's a prescription for staying out, because you'll likely wind up dead. And we aren't that cool. ¶ 11:39 PM 0 comments
