I'm working out new ways to perform and record. They take the form of melodic fragments, half-assed renditions of half-remembered songs, old ideas of mine resurrected, and wherever the associative flow and feelings lead. I'm also using the recordings as a way to audition vocal effects. I'll be posting some, just because I'm in a long gestation period between produced tracks. Instead of having nothing to show musically, I can at least offer some raw precursor material.
Way to Breathe
References: fairytale of new york [the pogues], let's lynch the landlord [dead kennedys], paint it black [the rolling stones], rap [mr. show (the rich fat kids vs the tibetan monks episode)], chapter 24 [pink floyd], quicksand [david bowie], the end [the beatles], the song that doesn't end, away in a manger, revelations [iron maiden], to tame a land [iron maiden]
6/12/19
a nice bit of randomness
Back in those days, we would print stuff off the internet with our Netscape browser, jokes, quotes, text, always text, images took too long to load. I spent my attempt at higher education in a particular library cubicle that bleak winter, so tired, a slump of sores.
"Spoon!" Coming upon that Discordian "quote"' was the funniest thing ever, made me laugh for minutes. That joke religion from the seventies. It was like a revelation on nitrous oxide, "overall there was a smell of fried onions", the Robert Anton Wilson parody of "everything in this universe is the smell of burnt almonds", the William James axiom, randomness that is really all encompassing, implications in minutia.
"Spoon!" Coming upon that Discordian "quote"' was the funniest thing ever, made me laugh for minutes. That joke religion from the seventies. It was like a revelation on nitrous oxide, "overall there was a smell of fried onions", the Robert Anton Wilson parody of "everything in this universe is the smell of burnt almonds", the William James axiom, randomness that is really all encompassing, implications in minutia.
6/03/19
It doesn't take a miracle to make a miracle
The old songs slipped away the moment we embraced. I didn't need them anymore. Suddenly I understood the cliches, which is itself a cliche, I get it now! I laughed every few minutes thinking how apropos they were, how they applied. All the new songs I would have to write. All I'd had to do was hang in there til I found her, like the kitten in the poster. Her lips are the best thing ever, the floodgates, torrent-drowned tornadoes, lox underwater, lux aeterna, requiem for a life of getting by.
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