We'll Be All Right

Flowers're pretty

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Can you sing a song in a whispery voice
About your big love as if you were the first?
Can you do it all cute, like you don't have a choice?
If you can be bad, but not quite the worst

You'll be all right
The poor kids'll listen (they don't know any better)

Can you dress for your gig with an old-timey twang?
Just like the old days, but a little bit cleaner
Can you parrot the songs that your dead heroes sang?
If you can sing it all sweet when they would have been meaner

You'll be OK
The condo people'll like you

Can you sing a song that'll make us forget
The big problems and make our small ones seem strange?
Don't show us any ideas we haven't seen yet
If you can assure us that nothing should change

You'll do just fine
The baby people'll love you

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This is a tongue-in-cheek but rather derisive song about some current trends in music.  Specifically, it's directed at the type of breathy "Americana" acts (and their liberal-yet-complacent audience) whose idea of creativity seems to be aping Nick Drake and creating music so predictable, so lowest-common-denominator and unchallenging that it apologizes for even being audible.  That, or they're sterilely covering folk songs note-for-note in anachronistic getups, trying to trick us into believing it's not 2011 (sorry, but your Iron and Wine arrangement was a dead giveaway).  Surely we can set our sights a little higher.

Come November

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Come November,
I need someone who'll pander to my beliefs
In brief--
If he wants my vote, rote memorization of newscast persuasions won't do
True, they can be compelling but selling's not always the top goal
                                          --full stop (whole)
I'm afraid we disagree

I want someone who's said, instead of
"God bless us,"
"Maybe our messes stem from our own hands."
Grand speeches reach us, teach us false pride
While others deride what our real progress lacks

                                           --tax.

I need somebody who knows some wars aren't

worth beginning (or winning)

Who knows that a rifle and a contract a hero

do not necessarily make

Take, for example the so-called bravery

of slavery to flags and empty ideals

that steal your days to pay the already rich

                                            --you were tricked!

Please, show me someone whose thoughts aren't bought

by the sheen of a preening wool-pulling machine

Whose spleen stomachs all sides

not non-sides of meaning

manufactured for our end

Send someone quick who's not too thick to shout:

"The more we know, the less it shows!"

Whose throat parches at our sleepwalk forced marches--

Our arms raised, bills brandished in bare fists

kissed by the flaccid promise of

satisfaction from checking purchases off a perpetual list

                                             --will you ever get pissed?!

I need someone who's aware change doesn't happen

in two- four- and six-year increments

Whose implements and wisdom are unhurried
Who's worried, to boot

that the root's that there's more new ones breathing 

than older ones leaving

I need someone who doesn't exist

If you need me, 

I'll be dangling my feet in the water,

my slaughtered ballot already confetti

in the victorious breeze

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An uncommonly political song for me (though the conclusions are perhaps familiar) and a solid step forward on the poetry side of things.  I've been having lots of fun lately getting more and more fluid with rhyming--both in placement and how accurate/imperfect the rhyme is--and this song is the tip of the iceberg.  The process has been freeing, allowing for some associative ideas to arise unexpectedly, though at times to the extent that the resulting poems are totally unfit to accompany songs.  I wasn't sure if I could do it with this one, but it's actually been fun performing the serpentine thing.  There is no structure other than a repeating melodic motif, though it's fairly firmly in a single key--you'll forgive a few departures, right?  I'm going to try not to beat these things to death and make people work a little harder, but I will say that I couldn't resist intentionally mixing a couple of bodily metaphors.  Bad poetry--C minus.

Cheap Seats at the Cartesian Theater

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And who, pray tell
do you think you are?
What might you think
you're saying?
What do you prove?
Can you act?
Are you more than a caption?
Are you trapped?
Can you become no stronger?
Are you even aware?

You think you know it means something
You know you think it means something
You mean you think you know something
You know you mean to think something
You thing--you mean to think you know!

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Another new song I've been playing at recent performances.  This will likely be the title track on the second album, whenever that happens.  I'm pretty excited about how the project's shaping up--it'll be a collection of mostly short (< 2 minute) songs, many of which will explore different aspects of the human mind.  For example, "One Tea" partly concerns the brain's ability to visualize and conceptualize in abstract, not to mention become lost in thought to the point of ignoring current sensory input.  The short song format should allow for a lot of wide-ranging musical experiments but ensure that they're all easily digestible (well, at least from the perspective of time commitment--some, including this song, tread near or past the far reaches of what I was messing with last time). 

I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking (insert comment about irony here) about how our brains work simultaneously as the executors of our actions and as the collectors and facilitators of our sensory and mind experience.  When I'm feeling particularly...frank, I'm tempted to think that our brains most often act automatically to fulfill their programming--to unconsciously act as we've acted before or are predisposed to act, to supply habitual necessities, to remember and want to re-achieve pleasure and avoid pain, and to veil it all with the so-arrogantly-human conscious certainty that each of our "selves" is really in control of what we're thinking, deliberately choosing before each action, and serving something greater than mere biological chemistry and deterministic behavioral probability.  Luckily, with the help of modern cognitive science and a bit of observant humility it's possible to at least try to rise above this oh-so predictable hubris and attempt something more.  It might not be wrapped in as neat a package, but acknowledging the realest state of things as accurately as possible seems to me to be the first step forward. 

Anyway, one day I was thinking something along these lines and was suddenly aware of that part of my mind which evaluates these thoughts--sure, I may (or may not) have a skeptical thoughts regarding the level of free agency the human mind actually possesses, but where do those thoughts come from?  Are they subject to the same predictability and programming, or do they perhaps issue from a less rigidly-regulated part of the mind--is it possible to stretch that rigidity and, if not travel to completely unmarked territory, to at least tread in a slightly different direction and free things up a bit?  This song addresses that part of my mind that sits in judgment of my programming.  Is it evidence of a more powerful agency, or merely illusory, another aspect of the mind's complexity--efficacy or description?  If it's indeed a sign that more can be wrung out of our minds than zombie-like fulfillment of our predispositions, is this small part of the mind enough to overcome the habitual brain chemistry that gets us through every day, or is it helpless in its novelty?  The shuffling word game at the end of the song ironically warns against becoming too impressed with the mind's ability to oversee some of its own processes.  Let's not forget what we are, where we came from and where we're going.

Musically, the song doesn't have any sort of real time signature, or a key, for that matter, though it's based on fifth intervals so each chord isn't harmonically unfamiliar to the ear.  It's got a tempo and a couple of recurring patterns, but the number of beats of silence between guitar strums alternates even if the pattern is similar.  It's also an experiment with using only bar chords.

One Tea

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One tea shared between two cups
Separate pools, distinct
Two cups tilt--contents together
Crashing marbles, silent groans

Still two together
or now a third--discrete from one?
What force set two from one?
Moot questions, you may assert
Recombination erases any artificial identity

However, moving closer
can't you see?
Two side by side
around
passing under
Restless pacing

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A new poem and song I've been performing this past month.  It's a quiet observation from my tea table.  Here's how it goes--I pour the tea from the pot into the sharing pitcher.  From there, the tea goes into two cups.  Now we have two different cups of tea--sure, it's the "same" tea, but not quite--the tea in the first cup isn't exactly the same as the second--to start with, they're in completely different vessels.  So, now the tea substance in each cup has a name--let's call them "A" and "B."  And what if I pour them back, together, into the sharing pitcher?  Does the tea return to being the exact same as before it was poured into cups and became "A" and "B"?  Is the distinction (which surely described something that was different about the two cups) so easily discarded and forgotten about?  Then I start thinking about the "A" molecules and the "B" molecules swimming, intermingling there in that pitcher.  It's happening as an utterly unmeasurable, ever-shifting dance.  The broader implications of this exercise constitute a substantial cornerstone of my worldview.  It's a good day when I can become so lost in amazement at a small wonder...it's nice to have some perspective.  Oh yeah, this is also a love song describing what happens to two personalities together over time.

She is kind and beautiful/I am young and strong

I feel strong. I've spent almost six months recording 11 songs (55 minutes) and the entire process has been overwhelmingly positive and empowering. The past four years have actually been pretty turbulent ones as far as my creative musical life is concerned--in 2006 I started to change the style and approach of my songs. Through the summer of 2007 in the creative shelter of my aunt and uncle's farm my new intended direction began to be realized as a collection of lyrics and compositions that fit my new standard started to grow. I started a recording project at the end of the summer that split some of my more conventional songs with some of my newer, more experimental and complex songs. Unfortunately, the project was never completed before the deadline for my move to Seattle fell--in addition, during the process of recording I developed health issues with my throat and vocal chords (a very long and tedious sob story) that effectively prevented me from singing until some tentative attempts in 2009.

The intervening years have been really difficult for me both as a musician and generally as a person. My intention was to pursue music as soon as I moved to Seattle, and the last few years haven't seen much progress in that direction. At first I made attempts to continue writing and composing despite my inability to sing properly, but eventually the prospect of writing songs I knew I couldn't sing had a debilitating effect on both my work and my spirits. My self confidence hit an all-time low--there I was claiming that songwriting and performing are my ultimate passions, but I was doing next to none of either one. I often felt like a complete sham and doubted any ability in which I may have believed in the first place, and my depression negatively affected all aspects of my life.

After trying multiple marginally helpful solutions for my throat, I made a concerted effort to pit my resolve and so-called passion against my health problems and the subsequent disabling psychological effects of which I'm still embarrassed and ashamed today. I performed at Miro Tea last June for the first time in over two years at my dear friend Courtney Morgan's art opening, and since then my throat issues have mysteriously subsided enough (I may never know why, but I think it's a combination of the steroids the doctor gave me and strength I gained from practicing in safer, more effective ways learned from some speech therapy I took during my many different treatments) that I also performed at a number of other small and unpopulated (except for my generously supportive friends and family) venues before deciding that in order to properly convey the songs that I'd been developing in my head, I needed to fully-realize them in the form of recordings to supplement any live performances I may do.

So, I holed up in the living room end of our apartment in November with the intention of recording a handful of songs to fill up my MySpace and Facebook, promote myself to potential venues, and maybe even send to a record label or two. In truth, I didn't actually even know how many songs I was going to have until putting the finishing touches on the files a couple of weeks ago. Recording has been a long, difficult, but ultimately cathartic and rewarding process. At first I was often haunted by the familiar crippling lack of productivity that plagued my last two years--the limitations of my recording equipment, abilities as an engineer and producer, and often as a guitarist frequently conspired to block my momentum--I remember a few dark days of unsuccessfully playing the same 30 second fingerstyle guitar part over and over, still unsatisfied that the sounds didn't match the ideas that had been bouncing around my head for two years. Things picked up, though, after a visit with some friends in Mexico restored my belief in pursuing what's really important to me--no matter how little free time I have. My time management skills sharpened to an alarming degree and I've obsessively spent as much free time as possible in the last 3 months working toward my goal.

The closer the project has come to completion, the happier I've been with both the results and with my decision to do the whole thing in the first place. I've had the chance to present songs I've performed live in a form that more completely represents the concepts and sounds I've been hearing in my head for the last two years, and I've also had the chance to record a couple songs that I've never played live--hearing completed productions of songs that have only existed as plans and concepts in my head and on paper has been thrilling and intensely fulfilling.

So, at the end of this recording process, I feel strong--not only do I feel that my songwriting, poetry and guitar playing have made immense progress and become more sophisticated and distinctive in the last four years, my damaged throat not only met the challenge of recording, I feel like my singing is the most technically proficient and nuanced it's ever been. My original intentions have been supplemented with a desire to actually produce a CD--I feel that the recording quality is adequate and that the works are fully-realized enough to press onto a physical medium. My current plans are to select a number of these 11 songs as well as record a couple more early this summer and have them professionally mastered (which should make a demonstrable difference in sound quality). I'm so enthusiastic about the accomplishments I've made I'm already thinking forward to a second album, but there's no need to get too far ahead of myself!

Although I feel strong, let's not confuse strong with confident--the progress I feel I've made as a songwriter and musician over the last few years has remained largely an introverted, personal transformation that I feel like I've failed to effectively show (as opposed to tell) to anyone. Though I've eagerly devoured more new music in the last 4 years than all the previous years of my life combined, I've shown precious little evidence of the effect it's had on my approach to songwriting and playing. Now it's time to relax my grip on my music and share it with other people, which is a frightful proposition--I've had very little feedback on my music in a few years and I'm quite nervous, but not enough to keep the fruits of hundreds of hours of work to myself.

Now that the back story is on the table, it's time to start presenting the songs--one per day for 11 days. As I mentioned before, about two-thirds of these songs are intended for an album. The rest either didn't fit with the planned collection of songs or I recorded them just for fun to include with the other, usually more serious compositions as 'palate cleansers.' There are also two songs that were partially recorded in Walla Walla in the summer of 2007; I'll go into more detail about each song as I post the recordings and lyrics. I physically made all of the sounds on the songs, and almost all the instruments are acoustic (only excepting some electric guitar on "Ghost in the Machine," I think). I'm satisfied with the quality of the recording, but when I eventually produce a quality CD, I'm hoping to fund a professional mastering job, which will match the volume levels between each song and smooth out the general sound and balance, hopefully eliminating any of the slight distortion you may hear, especially in the EQ department (Bass/Mid/Treble) department, of which I've only done a poor-man's job for these songs I'll be posting. I sincerely hope you get something out of the songs I've produced, and it's my greatest pleasure to finally share them. Here they come...

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