Category Archives: Process

Board Beyond Belief

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And the Song Board is Singing Like It Knows the Score...

About a month ago, I cleaned my personal white board of all its random to-do items and wrote down every song I have in my head that is not completely recorded. I put down everything from finished, demo’d songs (“The Oldies Station”) to completely structured songs that just need lyrics completed (“Come for the Buildings, Stay for the People”) to songs that are little more than a riff and a line (“From Cleveland to Eternity”). Ideas from last week…and ideas that somehow survived in my head from my days in Raleigh. I think the list topped 20 titles; I’ve added three or four since then (I forgot a couple instrumentals), and a whole lot of another song showed up, too. And now that I think of it, I already posted a song to this very blog that I didn’t write down because I didn’t like it very much, in the end.

Anyway, as my co-worker Robert used to say, “I got it like water.” And not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I have so many performance obligations lately that I feel like I scarcely have time to finish these things. On top of that, I am pressuring myself to record things “better,” to test levels thoroughly, to make sure I’m not compressing or peaking anything, etc. AND to be well-rehearsed before I start recording…which of course makes for an interesting catch-22.

I don’t know. Long story short, as far as recording goes, I always try to talk myself into giving greater care to acoustic perfection, but at the end of the day I’m sitting here with 25 songs and I just need to get them WRITTEN and TO TAPE. (Or hard drive, whatever.) I remember some mistakes I made recording the last collection, and I’ll apply those lessons, but as far as making something sonically massive and/or loaded with impressive takes…I can’t really afford to obsess over that. In other words, I can’t change; I’ll always be a basically lo-fi guy. So be it.

(Bolstering this conviction is my recent obtainment of two Bill Fox albums. His songs are so melodically strong that they not only shine through the cheap-sounding production — they make it seem like the perfect choice. Kind of like the first time I heard Guided by Voices. But I digress.)

But before any talk of recording, an area of mine where I think I CAN change and/or improve is around songwriting. Not necessarily in terms of the finished stuff so far — I think I’ve done okay, finished some decent stuff, and I think the ratio of good ones to stinkers will continue to improve as I keep at it. No, I mean in terms of sheer volume, of eating away at that cursed Song Board.

I am the most passive, “wait for inspiration to strike” lyrics writer you could ever meet. I think when I was in a band with two other songwriters, I felt more pressure to actually hunker down and finish stuff, but now my only motivation is the fact that I sound dumb mumbling “something, something” when I practice in the basement. I’m happy with the lyrics I’ve finished in the 2.5 years since Soda and Sympathy, and I don’t regret focusing more on becoming a marginally better guitar player (which I think has happened). But I would like to be more proactive in the song-completion department. Sure, it’s nice when inspiration marches all the way across the gym, takes my hand, and drags me to the dance floor. But the fact of the matter is that it would STRIKE more often if I TRIED more often.

So I have some performance and recording stuff lined up for this week and the next, but once I have a little breathing room, I’m gonna be AT IT. And to whatever handful of people are actually reading this: You are my witnesses. If you see me, ask me how The Board is doing. And buy me a cup of coffee…

Joining the Service

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I have a couple of “proper bar” shows next week, my first since “getting back into it” about…8 months ago…? (Cole’s was quiet enough, and the stage secluded enough, for it to not really count, in my book.)  These are shows at fully-functioning watering holes, and I’m sharing bills with some full-bore rock bands. Very much the scene that made me recruit Tom and Casey all those years ago.  Intimidating to confront all on your lonesome.

So it’s been a little weird trying to shift out of coffee shop gear. But the truth is, aside from song selection, there’s very little shifting that needs to take place.  It’s taken me a few rehearsals to realize this.  I’ve been hallucinating the need to answer loud crowds with louder guitar and more aggressive playing.  It’s been doubly tempting to lean this way, since I’m more rehearsed than I’ve ever been in my life (seriously), so I just happen to be capable of playing faster and harder.  But that doesn’t mean I should.

No, what I’ve been remembering this week is that if I crank the amp and attack the strings, it actually sounds like garbage.  Maybe one day I’ll write some garage rock songs, but right now that’s not really in my bag of tricks.  So I just need to play as I always have, as tight as I can, and leave the volume issues to the sound person.  That’s what they’re for, right?  Kind of a no-brainer, especially to people who get out there more.  But like with so many things, it’s better late than never.

After sussing out the practical approach, the rest is just psychological.  Which is not inconsiderable.  I can’t help but recall the last time I played Cleveland, I think in 2006.  That was basically the show that made me — that I stupidly allowed to make me — give up for a while.  I played after a trio of knuckleheads who heckled during my set, singing Bob Dylan lyrics at me between songs.  Because, you know, I was alone and bearded.  And old and quiet.  Whatever.  (Oddly enough, they friended me on MySpace a week later.  Ah, MySpace.  How 2006.  But I digress.)

Could something like that happen again?  Of course it could.  But it’s no reason to stop playing.  If I could go back in time, I’d have booked as many post-Cleveland shows as I could, stuffing them between me and that nightmare until it dimmed to transparency.  It’s best to take the long view, to gather all the shows and consider them on average.  That Cleveland show bowled well under a hundred, as did Indianapolis just a couple weeks ago.  But on average, the nights are getting better, my game / average is improving.  And I can’t be responsible for every lunkhead who shows up.  I can only bring the best playing and singing I can, transmit as clearly as possible to the room that we’re all in this together…and then see what happens.

It’s that last bit that’s new.  The bit about letting people in, being all in this together.  I’m not expert at transmitting that vibe, and might never be.  It’s sort of a “big ask,” considering how many anti-social bones I have in my body.  But I’m working on it.  One of the things I did during my “time away” was see Sunken Treasure, a movie about a solo tour Jeff Tweety did shortly after getting sober.  The most important bit doesn’t appear to be available online, so I’ve put another, somewhat similar clip above.  The bit I’M talking about happens backstage, where Tweety says (I’m paraphrasing) that when you play music live, you’re “performing a service.”  That in spite of any appearances to the contrary (standing in an elevated spot in the room, folks maybe paying to see you), gigs are not really about the performer.  (Or at least not exclusively.)

What I take him to mean is that while it helps to have good songs and to be able to play and sing them well, the performer isn’t the only measure of whether a performance is going to go well.  By the same token, if a show DOES go well, it’s not exclusively because the performer did his or her (or their) job.  Maybe I’m just fabricating something to make the butterflies go away, but I’m starting to believe it:  Shows are not a demonstration of my coolness.  Rather they’re events where, if all the elements are right, and if everyone is willing to be a part of it, something cool might happen.  Even in “proper bars.”

New Song: “Here Comes the Sun” Trio Demo

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Here Comes the Sun [Trio Demo]

This song’s gone through many permutations, settling (as usual for me) into something that falls well short of the three minute mark, even when recorded with a full band. It seems like every time something pops into my head that could stretch to epic proportions — with solos and strings and intros and outros — I inevitably just hack away until it’s down to “single-length” or shorter. Maybe this is a good thing. I imagine that if I was actually on a label, I could waste a fair amount of their money downright FORCING songs like this to sound like Queen (or whatever). But I’m not, so I don’t. I’ll consider that a lucky thing.

This was recorded in December with John and Larry (at a session documented here). I sang a live vocal that seemed decent at the time, but in listening back it’s actually kinda “hot” (and not in a good way). Still, that’s what you’ll hear in this demo, with nothing really EQ’d or mixed with anything more than a concern for basic volume levels. I’ve already added piano and smoothed out the drums for what will eventually be the “real” version, but I wanted to post up something that would give a sense of the energy level of the trio recordings, which is pretty high! And awesome! And exclamation! Point! But seriously, the way this song explodes at the end is, to me, kinda thrilling…

Lyrically, there are references to intemperate weather which would give you an idea of the initial aim, specific-subject-wise. But thankfully, I ended up blending in stuff that’s less topical and more personal. Still a hard balance, those two. Let me know what you think.

here comes the sun

our paper route would start at dawn we’d
cause the cracks in winter lawns we’d
form of something formed of ice
the wonder twins like satellites

(back to) our nickel-gas-fueled happy home and
chocolate served in styrofoam and
canned applause and cereal
and golden static radio

(but now there’s) nothing left of the dial
i only hear you sing from files we
shine our stars with aerosol
and drown in never losing calls

october comes and we fall back the
storm windows still at half mast here
comes the sun in all its might
but you can’t tell me it’s alright

Discman Days Revisited

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Tear Down The Wall!

I went all-out nutty with gig-grubbing emails at the very beginning of the year, and for a while there I was worried that I’d get exactly NO bites, but no! I mean yes! I have a show back at the Uncommon Ground in Wrigleyville on Friday 2/5. And there are slight feelers out for stuff in March, both in and out of Chicago. Oh, and a little feeler out for a possible Cleveland showing in April. So it turns out that my Merge-book-reading prediction is coming true. Perseverance will eventually lead you to gigs, and gigs themselves will show you which venues / folks / scenes are appropriate for you. Elementary Watson, and all that. The only hitch being that it’s a slow process, and a very rusty engine to turn over if you’ve been away for a few years. I’ll forgive myself my impatience, if you forgive me my absence (all three of you reading this).

Meanwhile, my actual paying gig has gotten strange. In September of 2001, I took my first non-private sector job, working for a group within the group that I currently work for. I sat in a cubicle in the South Loop, and though the work was sort of menial, I was happily salaried, and it was here that I first tapped into my own “geek potential.”

Flash forward to 2009, and after a couple of misguided detours, I’m back working with basically the same organization, but with more responsibility / challenge / (dare I say) fun…and in a far better office space, right in the Loop. But due to some budget straining, in December our physical office was closed, and we were scattered to whatever desks could be scrounged in State and/or University buildings around the city. So guess where I landed? Exactly one cubicle north of of where I was in 2001. Also due to…the nature of grant-work, I guess…I’m one of two people working on a fairly data-intense project, and we both wear ALL of the hats — including data entry and (gulp) filing. So not only am I physically in the same place I was in 2001, but for huge chunks of time, I’m doing the same type of (yes I’m glad to BE employed, but let’s be honest — it’s kind of boring) work. The only difference is the upgrade from Discman (!!!) to iPod.

It’s like there’s been a fold in time. And the fold is reflected my musical life, too, since it’s been about that long since I tried to get my solo self “out there.” Zapruder Point was definitely at its most active when Tom and Casey were in the band, but before then, I did some solo gigs, and I remember being especially excited about writing and recording. This was the period when (the then-two-disc) Low Resolution was “out,” and all the American High songs were coming together, and in general the potential of songwriting — the throw-anything-at-it spirit — was very strong in me. I listened to Ted Leo on the Discman, tuning into the glory in spite of the drudgery surrounding me.

And now I listen to Vampire Weekend on the iPod and do the same. I gather paper cuts and feel the same hope and expansiveness, even as I’m soaked in fluorescent light. And yes, this is playing itself out in the songs I’m currently writing, where they’re coming in thick, and I’m just flinging ideas at them. Lyrics unparsed but pretty, shouts and squiggles, tempos slowed to silence. In short, I think I’ve got some live ones here, and I’m excited.

Stay with me.

En Fuego!

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Weird couple of weeks there. At first weird in a good way — home again to Cleveland for Thanksgiving with family and friends. (I have footage of me and Scott doing a song there, which I hope to post as a “happy holidays” message closer to the New Year.) But then almost the whole week after that, Amy and I went into Renegade Craft Fair prep mode. I built a display frame thing for hanging scarves and stuff, and Amy made more scarves and other wares to sell. (Check out her stuff at her Etsy shop.) On Saturday, we set up shop…but Amy’s back wasn’t feeling too good.

The next morning, it was twice as bad, and so I took her to the emergency room. This meant skipping day two of selling crafts at the fair…but a few hundred bucks isn’t worth Amy hurting herself any more than she already was.  The doctor said it was a muscle thing — not a bone or spine thing — which is reassuring in a left-handed sort of way. She got some great drugs and she’s been all Dazed and Confused up in here for the past couple days. She’s got a follow-up at the doctor’s Friday, so we’ll have a better sense of what’s actually wrong. Where was I going with this?

Well, speaking of not knowing where you’re going with this, I saw Canasta at the Beat Kitchen in the middle there — Saturday night. Very inspiring, as their new jams (one of which is called “I Don’t Know Where I was Going with This,” natch) are, like, way more rocking than I recall Canasta being before. A lot of it revolves around their new drummer, who’s…just…insane. Like Fab from the Strokes crossed with Lol from Ride. A controlled hurricane, if you will. It got me going.

But seriously, where? Oh yeah. Much to my surprise, Larry didn’t have an engagement a week from tonight, and so me and him and John are going to record again. In preparation, I recorded quick demos of the two songs we’re going to attempt…and in the process, ALMOST A WHOLE DANG OTHER SONG POPPED OUT. Which is a relief, since one of the John and Larry songs has like a million words and has taken a year to get together, just about. Some come fast, others come slow. But then in the shower some lyrics for this other sketchy thing came together..and it’s just like…I’ve been…EN FUEGO…for the last few days.

I still have to get a freaking show, though. That end of things still sags depressingly, of course. I have a strategy, for whatever that’s worth. But it requires…gulp…effort. Don’t worry, I’ll do it. My hope is that all this creative upswinging will serve to bolster me to do the gig-grubbing. You see, when I’m on fire with the songwriting and the practicing and the recording, I tend to feel more like a “real” musician…who therefore deserves real gigs. So I feel like less of a heel asking for them, and so I can actually do it without stuttering. So to speak.

Anyway, just wanted to let you know.  Burn out the days.  Burn out the nights.  And so forth.