About The Opera: I don’t have a plot, or characters; one of the folks I told about the idea said if it was a Joe Opera, it had to have dead animals, and I suppose that’s right (Reputation To Protect and all). For all I know, maybe all the characters will be animals—animals are a lot easier to deal with than people. It’s been suggested I adapt something like Bryan Jacques’ “Redfern” series—science-fiction novels whose characters are all animals—but I don’t know as I want to get that cute. Cute anthropomorphic animals have been done to death (sorry) by the Disney people.
It would be tempting—here’s that zeitgeist again—to have the opera be about the economy: the classic Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland routine, perhaps, where we’re out of money, the farm’s being foreclosed on—so “Let’s put on a show!” Twisted, of course: if I were doing it, the humans would be clueless, and the farm animals would put on the show—and somebody (a government agency?) would try to stop them. Unsuccessfully, of course. And because I’m not that into happy endings, the show would end up being a failure (perhaps because only animals come?) and the farm would still get sold and the animals sent to the slaughterhouse. Classic Greek tragedy, where at the end of the play only one actor is left alive—long enough to close the curtains and wish the theatergoers goodnight.
I believe all the dialogue in an opera is sung (unlike a “musical,” where spoken word stitches the musical pieces together), and that’s quite a lot of music to write. One thing I could do to make my job easier would be to have each character sing differently (and consistently): the tempo might change, of course, depending on their being excited, &c., but “their” stuff would always be in the same rhythm and chord progression—the operatic equivalent of having the “Darth Vader Blues” play every time Darth comes on stage (a trick I did use in the first “Pig Wars” puppet show). That would also make the characters, whoever (and whatever) they are, more identifiable to the audience. One can do that with country music. I suppose my actors don’t need to be speaking (or singing) in Italian—but that could be fun, too.
(I shouldn’t think about this so much. I already have a tag line for the “reprise,” that the animals in various groups will sing at various random points during the opera:
“We’re gonna put on a show
And raise a whole lot of dough
And make the evil bankers go away!”)
I got asked twice while I was at the speech tournament (as a judge), “When’s your next gig?” (I’ve been asked that a few more times just in the past few days.) I guess that means I should arrange one, ‘cause I don’t got one. Right now, the next gig is the Christmas benefit concert, though I don’t have a date yet. I haven’t gone around soliciting gigs for myself at the various live music venues, and I should do that, too.
A few more things to do. Time to send off the CD and lyrics for “Dead Things in the Shower” to Goodnight Kiss Music for their contest (I’ll do the DVD entry for “50 Ways to Cure the Depression” online—it’s easier). At that point, my contest-entering for the year will be done. I haven’t won any of the others I entered. A couple more job applications to send off, too. Those are like the song contests, except that I think I have less chance of winning.
Joe
Monday, October 31, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
THE ZEITGEIST IN SONGS?
Zeitgeist. The literal translation is “time spirit,” but it’s not referring to the “It’s 5:00 somewhere” of some country music singers. It’s the “spirit of the times,” the millieu in which we live and (if we’re working) work. These days, the news is full—finally, some say—of news of the “Occupy Wall Street” movement and its clones; somebody—a Marine, in fact—was critically injured in a police attack on “Occupy Oakland” in California; and except for the platitudes emanating from the highest levels in Washington, D.C., the economic news is universally bad. Two wars that have yet to stop, jobs that keep disappearing, foreclosures that keep multiplying, inflation that won’t quit... It goes on.
I was asked, “Do you make use of the zeitgeist in your musical efforts?” I wouldn’t phrase it that way. The zeitgeist affects what I write. And no, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
We are, like it or not, products of the times we live in. We are what we do (or don’t do). Being unemployed for most of three years, living in reduced (and definitely more worrisome) circumstances, hunting for work in a “we could never hire old white guys” environment, and watching consistent failure impact my self-worth—and being constantly aware that not only am I not alone, I have a lot of company—yes, it affects what I write. A lot of what I’ve penned lately has had a Failed Economy “tinge,” if not a Failed Economy focus. I don’t mind because I am writing to (or for) an audience that I know is either in the same boat I am, or worried that they will be. It’s a common frame of reference, which is important for communication.
Of course I will be different—that’s one of Wrabek’s Rules. I do not preach—I leave that to others. Preaching turns me off, and I assume it does the same to others. I will not be serious (for the most part)—people need to laugh more than they need to cry, these days. And I will be timeless. I don’t always achieve that, but some of the stuff I wrote as much as ten years ago is still relevant, and still being requested, so I sometimes make it.
Does the zeitgeist show up in the work of others? Maybe not as much, or as well done, as I’d like. “Commercial” country music, form and content dictated by Powers That Be on some distant planet, still seems fixated on drinking, and girls, and how wonderful it is to live in the country (which many of the artists may not actually do)—all remote from and divorced from the reality of most folks’ everyday lives. Maybe it’s no wonder people aren’t listening.
I do see the zeitgeist coloring some other writers’ material—Ray Stevens comes immediately to mind, but a lot of his recent material is preachy, too, and I don’t cotton well to preachy stuff. There seems to be more religious music around these days—not surprising, considering people’s search for some kind of answers and need to focus on something stable; that same search and need probably drives the “end times is a-comin’” talk I hear more of these days. A lot of that religious and “end times” stuff is preachy, too, and I shy away from preachiness myself. If anything, I’ll poke fun at ‘em—and I suppose that, too, is an instance of exercising the zeitgeist.
I heard there was a Scandinavian songwriter who’d begun writing a “song cycle.” That’s a pre-medieval format in which each song is a chapter, as it were, in the whole. Interesting idea, but I couldn’t do that without violating another of Wrabek’s Rules, the one that insists I must express a complete thought, with no loose ends, in 3-1/2 to 5 minutes. On the other hand, I keep thinking of that country music opera I’d like to write (there are no country music operas that I know of, and I like breaking new ground)—something on the order of a song cycle might work well for that. Of course, each one of my songs would have to be different—that’s another one of the Rules. And I try to play by the Rules, even if they are my Rules.
I get to help judge a high-school speech tournament Saturday—something I haven’t done in a good two years—and on Sunday, we’re having the organizing meeting for the Marimba Band. Sometimes—maybe a lot of the time—the only way you get variety in your life is to create it yourself.
Joe
I was asked, “Do you make use of the zeitgeist in your musical efforts?” I wouldn’t phrase it that way. The zeitgeist affects what I write. And no, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
We are, like it or not, products of the times we live in. We are what we do (or don’t do). Being unemployed for most of three years, living in reduced (and definitely more worrisome) circumstances, hunting for work in a “we could never hire old white guys” environment, and watching consistent failure impact my self-worth—and being constantly aware that not only am I not alone, I have a lot of company—yes, it affects what I write. A lot of what I’ve penned lately has had a Failed Economy “tinge,” if not a Failed Economy focus. I don’t mind because I am writing to (or for) an audience that I know is either in the same boat I am, or worried that they will be. It’s a common frame of reference, which is important for communication.
Of course I will be different—that’s one of Wrabek’s Rules. I do not preach—I leave that to others. Preaching turns me off, and I assume it does the same to others. I will not be serious (for the most part)—people need to laugh more than they need to cry, these days. And I will be timeless. I don’t always achieve that, but some of the stuff I wrote as much as ten years ago is still relevant, and still being requested, so I sometimes make it.
Does the zeitgeist show up in the work of others? Maybe not as much, or as well done, as I’d like. “Commercial” country music, form and content dictated by Powers That Be on some distant planet, still seems fixated on drinking, and girls, and how wonderful it is to live in the country (which many of the artists may not actually do)—all remote from and divorced from the reality of most folks’ everyday lives. Maybe it’s no wonder people aren’t listening.
I do see the zeitgeist coloring some other writers’ material—Ray Stevens comes immediately to mind, but a lot of his recent material is preachy, too, and I don’t cotton well to preachy stuff. There seems to be more religious music around these days—not surprising, considering people’s search for some kind of answers and need to focus on something stable; that same search and need probably drives the “end times is a-comin’” talk I hear more of these days. A lot of that religious and “end times” stuff is preachy, too, and I shy away from preachiness myself. If anything, I’ll poke fun at ‘em—and I suppose that, too, is an instance of exercising the zeitgeist.
I heard there was a Scandinavian songwriter who’d begun writing a “song cycle.” That’s a pre-medieval format in which each song is a chapter, as it were, in the whole. Interesting idea, but I couldn’t do that without violating another of Wrabek’s Rules, the one that insists I must express a complete thought, with no loose ends, in 3-1/2 to 5 minutes. On the other hand, I keep thinking of that country music opera I’d like to write (there are no country music operas that I know of, and I like breaking new ground)—something on the order of a song cycle might work well for that. Of course, each one of my songs would have to be different—that’s another one of the Rules. And I try to play by the Rules, even if they are my Rules.
I get to help judge a high-school speech tournament Saturday—something I haven’t done in a good two years—and on Sunday, we’re having the organizing meeting for the Marimba Band. Sometimes—maybe a lot of the time—the only way you get variety in your life is to create it yourself.
Joe
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
CHRISTMAS SHOW SETLIST THOUGHTS...
For the Christmas Show, we want about an hour and a half’s worth of songs. That’s 18. I should start a list (I like lists). With “Alice” the ‘puter dead, I don’t have past setlists to work from; they were all on her hard drive. I have to invent one from scratch. Could include—not in any kind of order yet, of course:
CHRISTMAS SONGS:
Santa’s Fallen and He Can’t Get Up—fast bluegrass
I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas—slow & sleazy
Christmas Roadkill—slow & sleazy
--and maybe:
I Want a Man for Christmas—rock & roll (though a girl should really sing this)
Another Crappy Christmas (Don Varnell)—fast quasi-pop
FAILED ECONOMY SONGS:
Things Are Getting Better Now That Things Are Getting Worse (Gene Burnett)—fast two-step
Our Own Little Stimulus Plan (Betty Holt)—Buddy Holly-style rockabilly
Free-Range Person—fast bluegrass
Ain’t Got No Home in This World Any More (Woody Guthrie)—fast two-step
Un-Easy Street (Stan Good)—deliberate two-step
--and maybe:
Final Payment (Gem Watson)—deliberate Gospel
50 Ways to Cure the Depression—folk-rock
THE DEATHGRASS “STANDARDS”:
Dead Things in the Shower—fast two-step
For Their Own Ends (Southern Pigfish)—folk-rock
Tillamook Railroad Blues—deliberate blues
She Ain’t Starvin’ Herself—fast blues
That’s 16. That’d leave room for a couple of new ones, should any happen in the next couple of weeks, or for a couple more Old Standards if they don’t. I’d like to concentrate on danceable music, just in case there are any dancers, and three danceables that aren’t on the above list are “Test Tube Baby,” Woody Guthrie’s “Dance a Little Longer,” and Diane Ewing’s “Distraction.” One rock ‘n’ roll, one country rock, and one two-step. (Or I could substitute Diane Ewing’s “Alabama Blues,” which is a heartbreaker as well as being a very danceable two-step.)
An hour and a half seems to be a good length; people get tired (the band gets tired, too) if we play two hours. It being a benefit, I’d still have a quick break in the middle for the Donation Pitch, and probably one at the beginning, too. The mid-concert pitch should not be made by us (I could do the one at the beginning if needed). We’ll need refreshments—cookies, coffee and punch—and I’d like to enlist a couple folks to man a meet-and-greet-and-accept-donations table.
Could we do more? Enlist some backup singers, perhaps? Maybe some additional instruments? (I do know some people.) Since it’s a benefit concert, I don’t have to worry about splitting revenue too many ways—there is no revenue, not for the band. I have to worry simply about putting on the best show possible, to attract the biggest possible crowd (and biggest amount of donations). It would take more practice, but maybe not a lot—most of the musicians I know are familiar with at least some of the material, and distributing setlist CDs makes getting familiar with the rest easy. Besides, as some more professional performers have pointed out, my music tends to be very predictable. It’s one of the things that makes it easy to play with me.
Joe
CHRISTMAS SONGS:
Santa’s Fallen and He Can’t Get Up—fast bluegrass
I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas—slow & sleazy
Christmas Roadkill—slow & sleazy
--and maybe:
I Want a Man for Christmas—rock & roll (though a girl should really sing this)
Another Crappy Christmas (Don Varnell)—fast quasi-pop
FAILED ECONOMY SONGS:
Things Are Getting Better Now That Things Are Getting Worse (Gene Burnett)—fast two-step
Our Own Little Stimulus Plan (Betty Holt)—Buddy Holly-style rockabilly
Free-Range Person—fast bluegrass
Ain’t Got No Home in This World Any More (Woody Guthrie)—fast two-step
Un-Easy Street (Stan Good)—deliberate two-step
--and maybe:
Final Payment (Gem Watson)—deliberate Gospel
50 Ways to Cure the Depression—folk-rock
THE DEATHGRASS “STANDARDS”:
Dead Things in the Shower—fast two-step
For Their Own Ends (Southern Pigfish)—folk-rock
Tillamook Railroad Blues—deliberate blues
She Ain’t Starvin’ Herself—fast blues
That’s 16. That’d leave room for a couple of new ones, should any happen in the next couple of weeks, or for a couple more Old Standards if they don’t. I’d like to concentrate on danceable music, just in case there are any dancers, and three danceables that aren’t on the above list are “Test Tube Baby,” Woody Guthrie’s “Dance a Little Longer,” and Diane Ewing’s “Distraction.” One rock ‘n’ roll, one country rock, and one two-step. (Or I could substitute Diane Ewing’s “Alabama Blues,” which is a heartbreaker as well as being a very danceable two-step.)
An hour and a half seems to be a good length; people get tired (the band gets tired, too) if we play two hours. It being a benefit, I’d still have a quick break in the middle for the Donation Pitch, and probably one at the beginning, too. The mid-concert pitch should not be made by us (I could do the one at the beginning if needed). We’ll need refreshments—cookies, coffee and punch—and I’d like to enlist a couple folks to man a meet-and-greet-and-accept-donations table.
Could we do more? Enlist some backup singers, perhaps? Maybe some additional instruments? (I do know some people.) Since it’s a benefit concert, I don’t have to worry about splitting revenue too many ways—there is no revenue, not for the band. I have to worry simply about putting on the best show possible, to attract the biggest possible crowd (and biggest amount of donations). It would take more practice, but maybe not a lot—most of the musicians I know are familiar with at least some of the material, and distributing setlist CDs makes getting familiar with the rest easy. Besides, as some more professional performers have pointed out, my music tends to be very predictable. It’s one of the things that makes it easy to play with me.
Joe
Friday, October 21, 2011
RECORDING DENISE'S SONG--AN IDEA...
Denise Drake has a new song: “Cheap Replacement,” I believe it’s called. We played it last night at the Tsunami, and I’ve suggested she record it—and she suggested recording it with the “jam band,” i.e., us. I think that actually might be doable. With my equipment, no less. Let’s say it would be a lot of fun to try.
How? My Tascam has four channels, but I can only record on two at a time, and what I record will appear on both the left and right channels simultaneously—I can’t put some things on the right and some on the left, for instance. To do that, I’d have to be enlisting a computer and a lot more sophisticated software than I’ve got (studios have that stuff—I don’t). That’s not necessarily a bad limitation; it’s just one I have to live with.
Rick (from the “Really Cool Stuff” store in Wheeler) has a decent 8-channel PA that the Tsunami’s been using on Thursday nights, and I believe the two mikes are his, too. I could throw my singing mike into the mix for the vocals, and we could use the other two mikes (which have a longer range) to pick up instruments like fiddle and harmonica and percussion that can’t be plugged in. Bass (we need bass—didn’t have one last night), Denise’s rhythm guitar, and lead (Aaron) would be plugged in directly. It would be essential for the PA to have a “line out” port (it’s new enough that it should) because that’s what would have to go into the Tascam’s “line in” port. (I do know a work-around if there isn’t a “line out” port but I’d rather do this normally.) Two sets of headphones (I have them—one for the Tascam, and one for the PA) with which the sound engineer (me, by default) would have to very carefully set everybody’s levels. Then push “record” and we get what we get. If everything’s set right what we get should be good.
Because there will be two tracks left on the Tascam, it is possible to record two additional things separately, with the musician listening through the one set of headphones while his/her instrument is either plugged in or miked. (And that can be done later—it doesn’t have to be done in situ.) One of those extra instruments could be me, but it doesn’t have to be; I wasn’t doing anything special on the song, just my standard approximation-of-the-melody with a few blues licks thrown in—what I usually do when I don’t know what I’m doing. We had several really good lead players there last night, and it’d be much better to use them rather than me. (I can put effects on those “extra” instruments, too.)
To minimize the impact on everybody’s time—this is a tavern situation, and it should not feel like work—I’d want to do some experimentation in advance with the Tascam and PA, to make sure I could really do what I think I can do, and I’d want the “band” to run through the song once while I set levels (that’d also give the musicians a chance to think about perfecting anything they were doing that could use improvement).
And one could video this at the same time (mostly), too. (“Video is the new audio,” remember.) Two cameras, I think (three would be nice)—one fixed-focus on a tripod, filming the “band” from one vantage point all the way through, and the other(s) zooming in on various “band” members and the tavern audience. I’d want to film Denise separately later, lip-synching along with the song, so there’d be footage of her without a mike in her face. And of course I’d want help with that; I am not a pro with this stuff.
I have heard the new fire hall in Bayside Gardens has a pole. That might make it a perfect venue for videotaping “Pole Dancing for Jesus,” and I need to talk to the fire chief. I may have a couple of folks interested in being pole dancers.
Joe
How? My Tascam has four channels, but I can only record on two at a time, and what I record will appear on both the left and right channels simultaneously—I can’t put some things on the right and some on the left, for instance. To do that, I’d have to be enlisting a computer and a lot more sophisticated software than I’ve got (studios have that stuff—I don’t). That’s not necessarily a bad limitation; it’s just one I have to live with.
Rick (from the “Really Cool Stuff” store in Wheeler) has a decent 8-channel PA that the Tsunami’s been using on Thursday nights, and I believe the two mikes are his, too. I could throw my singing mike into the mix for the vocals, and we could use the other two mikes (which have a longer range) to pick up instruments like fiddle and harmonica and percussion that can’t be plugged in. Bass (we need bass—didn’t have one last night), Denise’s rhythm guitar, and lead (Aaron) would be plugged in directly. It would be essential for the PA to have a “line out” port (it’s new enough that it should) because that’s what would have to go into the Tascam’s “line in” port. (I do know a work-around if there isn’t a “line out” port but I’d rather do this normally.) Two sets of headphones (I have them—one for the Tascam, and one for the PA) with which the sound engineer (me, by default) would have to very carefully set everybody’s levels. Then push “record” and we get what we get. If everything’s set right what we get should be good.
Because there will be two tracks left on the Tascam, it is possible to record two additional things separately, with the musician listening through the one set of headphones while his/her instrument is either plugged in or miked. (And that can be done later—it doesn’t have to be done in situ.) One of those extra instruments could be me, but it doesn’t have to be; I wasn’t doing anything special on the song, just my standard approximation-of-the-melody with a few blues licks thrown in—what I usually do when I don’t know what I’m doing. We had several really good lead players there last night, and it’d be much better to use them rather than me. (I can put effects on those “extra” instruments, too.)
To minimize the impact on everybody’s time—this is a tavern situation, and it should not feel like work—I’d want to do some experimentation in advance with the Tascam and PA, to make sure I could really do what I think I can do, and I’d want the “band” to run through the song once while I set levels (that’d also give the musicians a chance to think about perfecting anything they were doing that could use improvement).
And one could video this at the same time (mostly), too. (“Video is the new audio,” remember.) Two cameras, I think (three would be nice)—one fixed-focus on a tripod, filming the “band” from one vantage point all the way through, and the other(s) zooming in on various “band” members and the tavern audience. I’d want to film Denise separately later, lip-synching along with the song, so there’d be footage of her without a mike in her face. And of course I’d want help with that; I am not a pro with this stuff.
I have heard the new fire hall in Bayside Gardens has a pole. That might make it a perfect venue for videotaping “Pole Dancing for Jesus,” and I need to talk to the fire chief. I may have a couple of folks interested in being pole dancers.
Joe
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
"THE OCCUPATION SONG"...
I might have broken a writers’ block, finally—and I have the writers’ group to thank for that. It was Bobbi, one of our poets, who came up with the idea of a “Complaint Choir” (envision a gaggle of folks dressed as faux Victorian Christmas carolers, descending upon various places to deliver off-the-wall “carols” about current events) and suggested we all come up with “carols” to sing. (“We all” has only been three, lately. Participation has been just a bit short of abysmal.)
So I did a “complaint carol,” myself, just a couple of hours before our meeting Tuesday night. Found I could write it down from memory the next morning (that’s important—if I can’t remember it, I assume it wasn’t worth remembering), and it’s been sent off for peer review at Just Plain Folks.
“The Occupation Song” (tentative title) was triggered by a poster somebody’d sent from the Occupy Portland protests that said (roughly) “Occupy Your Library—You Might Learn Something.” The song just takes that to its logical, over-the-cliff conclusion—with caustic little side references to not having a job, or a home, or any money. Yes, it’s a political song—though it’s one the political hardliners would be unlikely to be interested in because of its tongue-in-cheekiness. They’d probably think I was making fun of them (which I might be).
It’s probably a throwaway—but I am happy that it came together fast, and structurally is okay, and I’m relatively happy with it. And the words make sense—unlike the “Samba with the Llamas” song, which still isn’t finished. The music (ragtime) pretty much parallels my own “21 Steamer Drive,” but I think I can make it sound different by switching keys and giving it more of a rock rhythm, like Deathgrass does to Coleman and Lazzerini’s “So 20th Century,” which is also ragtime. I’m ready to try it out on a live audience somewhere.
I find myself always asking “What can I do with this?” Songs rarely stand on their own; if they’re not to fade off into obscurity, one has to do something with them. Well, this is a protest song, and protest songs are supposed to be performed; I can do that, but I kinda do that a lot anyway. It would be fun to put together a real, live Complaint Choir to make the rounds in Victorian costume, caroling this and a few others (Bobbi’s carol, about Rockaway Beach, would be a great inclusion, too); I don’t know if I know that many performers who are inclined to be that outrageous. I’ll ask a few folks I know, though, and mention the idea both at the Rapture Room and at the Open Mike November 5 at the Arts Center. A Christmas show, perhaps? We’d need about an hour’s worth of these to pull that off.
Of course I’ll record the song; I always record my stuff, if for no other reason than to preserve it for posterity, so they can enjoy my posthumous fame and fortune should that ever happen. It would be fun to record professionally a whole album of this protest stuff, and have it out just in time for Christmas (no, I do not know where the money to do that would come from). Yes, I already have a design for the album cover—graphic artist, remember? And if one is going to record, one should on principle do a video too.
Slow week for music coming up: I’ll get to play at the Tsunami Grill in Wheeler Thursday night, but there’s no music Saturday (I’ll be at a square dance in Woodburn anyway) and Sunday night I may be trying out for a part in a production of Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap instead of going to the Rapture Room. (That last depends on whether I think I can deliver an acceptable British accent. Both the parts I’d want require it.) Unrelated to music, I got a questionnaire from the Republican National Committee wanting my feedback on ideas for the 2012 part platform, and I believe I will give them a piece of my mind. I can spare it, and it’s obvious they need it.
Joe
So I did a “complaint carol,” myself, just a couple of hours before our meeting Tuesday night. Found I could write it down from memory the next morning (that’s important—if I can’t remember it, I assume it wasn’t worth remembering), and it’s been sent off for peer review at Just Plain Folks.
“The Occupation Song” (tentative title) was triggered by a poster somebody’d sent from the Occupy Portland protests that said (roughly) “Occupy Your Library—You Might Learn Something.” The song just takes that to its logical, over-the-cliff conclusion—with caustic little side references to not having a job, or a home, or any money. Yes, it’s a political song—though it’s one the political hardliners would be unlikely to be interested in because of its tongue-in-cheekiness. They’d probably think I was making fun of them (which I might be).
It’s probably a throwaway—but I am happy that it came together fast, and structurally is okay, and I’m relatively happy with it. And the words make sense—unlike the “Samba with the Llamas” song, which still isn’t finished. The music (ragtime) pretty much parallels my own “21 Steamer Drive,” but I think I can make it sound different by switching keys and giving it more of a rock rhythm, like Deathgrass does to Coleman and Lazzerini’s “So 20th Century,” which is also ragtime. I’m ready to try it out on a live audience somewhere.
I find myself always asking “What can I do with this?” Songs rarely stand on their own; if they’re not to fade off into obscurity, one has to do something with them. Well, this is a protest song, and protest songs are supposed to be performed; I can do that, but I kinda do that a lot anyway. It would be fun to put together a real, live Complaint Choir to make the rounds in Victorian costume, caroling this and a few others (Bobbi’s carol, about Rockaway Beach, would be a great inclusion, too); I don’t know if I know that many performers who are inclined to be that outrageous. I’ll ask a few folks I know, though, and mention the idea both at the Rapture Room and at the Open Mike November 5 at the Arts Center. A Christmas show, perhaps? We’d need about an hour’s worth of these to pull that off.
Of course I’ll record the song; I always record my stuff, if for no other reason than to preserve it for posterity, so they can enjoy my posthumous fame and fortune should that ever happen. It would be fun to record professionally a whole album of this protest stuff, and have it out just in time for Christmas (no, I do not know where the money to do that would come from). Yes, I already have a design for the album cover—graphic artist, remember? And if one is going to record, one should on principle do a video too.
Slow week for music coming up: I’ll get to play at the Tsunami Grill in Wheeler Thursday night, but there’s no music Saturday (I’ll be at a square dance in Woodburn anyway) and Sunday night I may be trying out for a part in a production of Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap instead of going to the Rapture Room. (That last depends on whether I think I can deliver an acceptable British accent. Both the parts I’d want require it.) Unrelated to music, I got a questionnaire from the Republican National Committee wanting my feedback on ideas for the 2012 part platform, and I believe I will give them a piece of my mind. I can spare it, and it’s obvious they need it.
Joe
Monday, October 17, 2011
DISCOURAGING WORDS...
Took a survey from the Future of Music people; they wanted to know how us independent (i.e., non-record company controlled) musicians were doing in the New and Modern World. This independent musician is not doing well, thank you. How much money have I made in royalties from radio stations playing my songs? None. From movie and TV placements of my songs? None. From ringtones? None. (Nice idea though.) From record sales? From the new album, not enough—yet—to make back production costs. (That’s true of most of the Big Boys, too, but my production costs have a lot fewer digits than theirs.) From online sales? Some, but not enough for CDBaby to send me a check. From performances? Twice as much as last year, but still not enough to make even one mortgage payment. From session work? I have actually done some, but it was as a favor to friends, and no, I never got paid or asked to be. From teaching music? None. (That New and Modern World wants you to have a degree in that stuff—and one in teaching, too—before they’ll let you teach.) Blog? Yes, I have one of those—and 62 people from Latvia read it and I don’t know why. And no, I’ve never made any money off that, either.
The question is regularly asked on writers’ sites, “Would you still be writing if there was no money in it?” I can answer that question easily, because there is no money in it and I’m still doing it.
Money isn’t everything, of course. (It just helps with the food, shelter, &c.) I decided some time ago I couldn’t live without writing, and so I write; the stuff has to get exposed to people somehow, because there’s no other way to tell whether it’s good or not—and I end up performing it because no one else will. Everything else developed from there. I recorded an album to get the stuff more exposure (and now have three of them); I formed my own record company and publishing company because no one else was interested, and just might know enough now to be able to help somebody else. And the blog was just to keep track of what I was doing—and maybe to hope that someone reading it might have a shorter journey by not having to make the same mistakes I did. (It’s also great practice writing.)
So fortune eludes me, fame I may already have some of, and both are extraneous to the need to write and to get better at it. It does mean that I have to have a job doing something else to take care of the food, shelter, &c. And three years into the economic collapse, I have no idea what that is. It is apparently not what I’ve done in the past. At this point, I’ve got five city-manager applications in the pipeline, and I’m not seriously expecting to hear good things from any of them (though I’ll know for sure by the end of the month). After I’ve gotten rejection letters from all of them, I think it’ll be time to go do something else. What? No idea. I guess that’s part of the journey, too.
All the foregoing discouraging words are at least in part a reflection of the general discouragement that’s going on worldwide. And the more people get upset, and the more upset they get, the nastier they get about it, it seems; it’s a little like watching a progressive epidemic of rabies. I suppose that’s the general theme I’m ending up with in the “Samba with the Llamas” song: yup, things look bad; nope, they do not make sense (that’s why the lyrics are essentially nonsense with political overtones); all you may be able to do is stay away from it so as not to get infected. And you might as well dance. No, it’s not a solution—but as the Hindu deity Ganesha (the elephant-headed guy) maintained, if dancing doesn’t make the situation better, at least it makes you feel better. Myself, I don’t dance—but I’d be happy to write and play the dance music. And I’ll feel better.
Joe
The question is regularly asked on writers’ sites, “Would you still be writing if there was no money in it?” I can answer that question easily, because there is no money in it and I’m still doing it.
Money isn’t everything, of course. (It just helps with the food, shelter, &c.) I decided some time ago I couldn’t live without writing, and so I write; the stuff has to get exposed to people somehow, because there’s no other way to tell whether it’s good or not—and I end up performing it because no one else will. Everything else developed from there. I recorded an album to get the stuff more exposure (and now have three of them); I formed my own record company and publishing company because no one else was interested, and just might know enough now to be able to help somebody else. And the blog was just to keep track of what I was doing—and maybe to hope that someone reading it might have a shorter journey by not having to make the same mistakes I did. (It’s also great practice writing.)
So fortune eludes me, fame I may already have some of, and both are extraneous to the need to write and to get better at it. It does mean that I have to have a job doing something else to take care of the food, shelter, &c. And three years into the economic collapse, I have no idea what that is. It is apparently not what I’ve done in the past. At this point, I’ve got five city-manager applications in the pipeline, and I’m not seriously expecting to hear good things from any of them (though I’ll know for sure by the end of the month). After I’ve gotten rejection letters from all of them, I think it’ll be time to go do something else. What? No idea. I guess that’s part of the journey, too.
All the foregoing discouraging words are at least in part a reflection of the general discouragement that’s going on worldwide. And the more people get upset, and the more upset they get, the nastier they get about it, it seems; it’s a little like watching a progressive epidemic of rabies. I suppose that’s the general theme I’m ending up with in the “Samba with the Llamas” song: yup, things look bad; nope, they do not make sense (that’s why the lyrics are essentially nonsense with political overtones); all you may be able to do is stay away from it so as not to get infected. And you might as well dance. No, it’s not a solution—but as the Hindu deity Ganesha (the elephant-headed guy) maintained, if dancing doesn’t make the situation better, at least it makes you feel better. Myself, I don’t dance—but I’d be happy to write and play the dance music. And I’ll feel better.
Joe
Saturday, October 15, 2011
ULAN BATOR...
In Going Bovine, by Libba Bray, the protagonist, a high-school kid diagnosed with fatal Mad Cow Disease (hence the title), escapes from the hospital on a quest to find—within two weeks—the one doctor who can cure him (he has to save the world at the same time). The kid fails—turns out there is no cure and never was one—and he dies. His complaint to the angel who sent him on the quest: “But I wanted to live!” And the angel tells him, look, you traveled all over the place; you made a new best friend; you changed a bunch of people’s lives and may even have saved one; you stole from a drug dealer; you were hunted by the police; you played bass with one of the best jazz musicians on the planet; you saved the world; and you lost your virginity to the chick you had the hots for in school—haven’t you lived?
I want to go to Ulan Bator. (Not “I think I want to go”; one piece of advice I got years ago from Stan Sheldon when he was Mayor of Garibaldi and I the city administrator was, “Never say ‘I think.’ You’re the expert. You don’t ‘think.’ You know.” Why Ulan Bator? It’s remote, I’ve never been there, and it’s somewhere I have no preconceived notions about. I’ve never really been outside this country (Tijuana and the Virgin Islands don’t exactly count)—and like the video (the new one) says, if you’re going to do it, you might as well go all the way.
Thing is, I want to go there as a musician, and be playing a concert. There is some work involved in that: I know no one in Mongolia, and have no fans there that I know of. I’d have a better shot in Latvia, where according to Google there are 29 people reading the blog (though I have no idea who they are or why they’re doing it). I have a little experience breaking into new markets—all small, of course, and the people did mostly speak English—and they were markets where people didn’t previously listen to country music. I wonder if that’d be enough to start with? I’ll have to try. (And I can try to develop a fan base in Latvia while I’m at it.)
The “Twenty-Four Seven” video is done and uploaded. (I probably should say a DRAFT is done and uploaded; and it is in fact the third draft.) The new video software—something called “Prism”—has some limitations, but it works enough like Windows Movie Maker and its Macintosh equivalent so the learning curve wasn’t too bad. In the same vein, Photoshop Limited Edition does pretty much the same stuff that Photo Deluxe used to do.
Link is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBxyb7NoUW0 The photos themselves were all taken in Tillamook County, between Tillamook and Mohler (where The Cow Nobody Wanted is, in front of the Grange); the two communities are about 25 miles apart. I don’t know if I could have done better or not. The experimental part—besides using all that different software—was combining video (of the Rap) with “French style” slide show (of the song). And next? We could intersperse video with still photography. Or we could do one that was all video, but interspersed clips. (That latter might be easier—and I think it’s how the pros do it.)
The video of “Blue Krishna,” when it’s finished, will be all interspersed video clips, but it’ll be fan-generated—the result of the old digital camera being forwarded around to different people. I want to do one myself, too. I’d like to film me playing the “base” track on the guitar, then extract the audio track, add lead and maybe other instruments and film little clips of them, and put that together. I wonder which song would be good for that?
Lazarus’ new keyboard has arrived. Work to do…
Joe
I want to go to Ulan Bator. (Not “I think I want to go”; one piece of advice I got years ago from Stan Sheldon when he was Mayor of Garibaldi and I the city administrator was, “Never say ‘I think.’ You’re the expert. You don’t ‘think.’ You know.” Why Ulan Bator? It’s remote, I’ve never been there, and it’s somewhere I have no preconceived notions about. I’ve never really been outside this country (Tijuana and the Virgin Islands don’t exactly count)—and like the video (the new one) says, if you’re going to do it, you might as well go all the way.
Thing is, I want to go there as a musician, and be playing a concert. There is some work involved in that: I know no one in Mongolia, and have no fans there that I know of. I’d have a better shot in Latvia, where according to Google there are 29 people reading the blog (though I have no idea who they are or why they’re doing it). I have a little experience breaking into new markets—all small, of course, and the people did mostly speak English—and they were markets where people didn’t previously listen to country music. I wonder if that’d be enough to start with? I’ll have to try. (And I can try to develop a fan base in Latvia while I’m at it.)
The “Twenty-Four Seven” video is done and uploaded. (I probably should say a DRAFT is done and uploaded; and it is in fact the third draft.) The new video software—something called “Prism”—has some limitations, but it works enough like Windows Movie Maker and its Macintosh equivalent so the learning curve wasn’t too bad. In the same vein, Photoshop Limited Edition does pretty much the same stuff that Photo Deluxe used to do.
Link is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBxyb7NoUW0 The photos themselves were all taken in Tillamook County, between Tillamook and Mohler (where The Cow Nobody Wanted is, in front of the Grange); the two communities are about 25 miles apart. I don’t know if I could have done better or not. The experimental part—besides using all that different software—was combining video (of the Rap) with “French style” slide show (of the song). And next? We could intersperse video with still photography. Or we could do one that was all video, but interspersed clips. (That latter might be easier—and I think it’s how the pros do it.)
The video of “Blue Krishna,” when it’s finished, will be all interspersed video clips, but it’ll be fan-generated—the result of the old digital camera being forwarded around to different people. I want to do one myself, too. I’d like to film me playing the “base” track on the guitar, then extract the audio track, add lead and maybe other instruments and film little clips of them, and put that together. I wonder which song would be good for that?
Lazarus’ new keyboard has arrived. Work to do…
Joe
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
THE VIDEO--AND A "COMPLAINT CHOIR"?
Working on the video… A lot of the photos I took were dark (it is dark around here a lot because of the clouds and rain) and I have been fixing that, photo by photo. I also have a habit of taking photos of a wider area than I need, planning on cropping what I need later. (I have cropping to do, too, in other words.) It’s a far cry from the days of black-and-white 35mm cameras, when you had to frame each shot very carefully because the lab in San Francisco was going to give you back—just in time for your deadline—exactly what you gave them. Technology allows you to be sloppy—not necessarily a good thing.
My old (1996) Adobe Photo Deluxe photo-manipulation software is finally dead, and I couldn’t find the Jasc software I’d acquired some years back as a replacement, but my old (1998) PageMaker program came with an early “limited edition” of Photoshop, and that’ll work for my purposes. Downloaded Windows Movie Maker, and a copy of the recording of “Twenty-Four Seven” off Soundclick. Guess I’m ready. I’ll need photos—or film—to display during the Rap, too. I’d forgotten about that. I wonder if I could use the Webcam and just film me talking? I haven’t done that yet.
Got appointed entertainment chairman for Garibaldi Days. I had told them I didn’t want to do that—I just wanted to make sure they knew the band wanted to play—and they told me the best way to ensure that was to have me in charge of entertainment. (I knew that, but I wasn’t after the obvious conflict of interest.) I think basically, they want the band to play anyway. I think we did put on a good show last July.
So I get—again—to tell all the musicians I know that I’m looking for entertainment. Just like the Relay for Life, this’ll be a freebie (though unlike the Relay for Life, I won’t be trying to find entertainers to perform in the middle of the night), and to the extent possible, I’ll be after only local (Tillamook County) acts. I have a feeling there are plenty. Is it possible to fill the entire time between the end of the parade and the time (early evening) when the paid bands start performing at the taverns? I think so.
The best everybody gets is exposure (because we can publicize the heck out of their being there), tips, and the ability to sell CDs and other “merch.” (Down the road, when the festival is a lot bigger, entertainment can get paid. That’s not now.) I think I can rig publicity so these local entertainers get a lot of bang in lieu of not getting any bucks.
Writers’ group meeting was good—not many people, but lots of ideas, and that’s what’s important. Ever hear of a “complaint choir”? Envision a gaggle of Victorian-dressed carolers descending on a public place—and singing pointed hymns about current events. First one I got was from Bobbie, one of our poets, and it’s a sweet little ode directed at Rockaway Beach, our local role model for a dysfunctional government. It needs music, and I’ll do my best to provide some. A cross between “Good King Wenceslas” and a sea chanty, I think. We’ll each bring a “complaint carol” in either musical or poetic form to next Tuesday’s meeting. If we can polish and practice them enough, we could surprise the audience at the November 5 open mike with them. The other thing I asked everyone to do is bring something of their own to the meeting that they’d want to perform at the open mike, and we’ll work on polishing those, too. We have a couple more sessions before the open mike happens.
And just a couple of odd opportunities—not income-producing ones, of course, just fun ones. It was suggested at the Writers’ Group meeting that I had a song the Occupy Portland demonstrators might well be able to use as a theme song—“Final Payment,” the late Gem Watson’s sweet-but-caustic Gospelly number that’s been a regular inclusion in Deathgrass’ Failed Economy Show concerts. No, nobody’s exactly in charge of the Occupy Portland “movement” (I noted that in an earlier blog), but I do know a couple of folks who’ve been going down there; as I’m fond of saying, “I know people.” And there’s a group in Kentucky that’s reportedly planning a big party—with live music—for the upcoming Prob’ly-Not-Going-to-Happen-This-Time-Either Rapture, and I’ve asked whether I could send them “Can I Have Your Car When the Rapture Comes?”
Joe
My old (1996) Adobe Photo Deluxe photo-manipulation software is finally dead, and I couldn’t find the Jasc software I’d acquired some years back as a replacement, but my old (1998) PageMaker program came with an early “limited edition” of Photoshop, and that’ll work for my purposes. Downloaded Windows Movie Maker, and a copy of the recording of “Twenty-Four Seven” off Soundclick. Guess I’m ready. I’ll need photos—or film—to display during the Rap, too. I’d forgotten about that. I wonder if I could use the Webcam and just film me talking? I haven’t done that yet.
Got appointed entertainment chairman for Garibaldi Days. I had told them I didn’t want to do that—I just wanted to make sure they knew the band wanted to play—and they told me the best way to ensure that was to have me in charge of entertainment. (I knew that, but I wasn’t after the obvious conflict of interest.) I think basically, they want the band to play anyway. I think we did put on a good show last July.
So I get—again—to tell all the musicians I know that I’m looking for entertainment. Just like the Relay for Life, this’ll be a freebie (though unlike the Relay for Life, I won’t be trying to find entertainers to perform in the middle of the night), and to the extent possible, I’ll be after only local (Tillamook County) acts. I have a feeling there are plenty. Is it possible to fill the entire time between the end of the parade and the time (early evening) when the paid bands start performing at the taverns? I think so.
The best everybody gets is exposure (because we can publicize the heck out of their being there), tips, and the ability to sell CDs and other “merch.” (Down the road, when the festival is a lot bigger, entertainment can get paid. That’s not now.) I think I can rig publicity so these local entertainers get a lot of bang in lieu of not getting any bucks.
Writers’ group meeting was good—not many people, but lots of ideas, and that’s what’s important. Ever hear of a “complaint choir”? Envision a gaggle of Victorian-dressed carolers descending on a public place—and singing pointed hymns about current events. First one I got was from Bobbie, one of our poets, and it’s a sweet little ode directed at Rockaway Beach, our local role model for a dysfunctional government. It needs music, and I’ll do my best to provide some. A cross between “Good King Wenceslas” and a sea chanty, I think. We’ll each bring a “complaint carol” in either musical or poetic form to next Tuesday’s meeting. If we can polish and practice them enough, we could surprise the audience at the November 5 open mike with them. The other thing I asked everyone to do is bring something of their own to the meeting that they’d want to perform at the open mike, and we’ll work on polishing those, too. We have a couple more sessions before the open mike happens.
And just a couple of odd opportunities—not income-producing ones, of course, just fun ones. It was suggested at the Writers’ Group meeting that I had a song the Occupy Portland demonstrators might well be able to use as a theme song—“Final Payment,” the late Gem Watson’s sweet-but-caustic Gospelly number that’s been a regular inclusion in Deathgrass’ Failed Economy Show concerts. No, nobody’s exactly in charge of the Occupy Portland “movement” (I noted that in an earlier blog), but I do know a couple of folks who’ve been going down there; as I’m fond of saying, “I know people.” And there’s a group in Kentucky that’s reportedly planning a big party—with live music—for the upcoming Prob’ly-Not-Going-to-Happen-This-Time-Either Rapture, and I’ve asked whether I could send them “Can I Have Your Car When the Rapture Comes?”
Joe
Sunday, October 9, 2011
RELAY FOR LIFE, COMPUTER REPAIR AND THE SAMBA...
I should turn into a computer hardware person for a while. A friend replaced the keyboard on his Dell laptop, and said it wasn’t too much of a pain; Lazarus’ keyboard is different, though (Dell was getting as bad as IBM with their “every model must be completely different” mantra)—non-standard shape, and all—but it turns out I can get a replacement keyboard online (and cheaper than going to a repair place) and according to the instructional video, it’s not hard to install. That’d be more professional-looking, too, than hooking up a standard keyboard to Lazz through the USB port.
And if that works, I should consider repairing on my own “Justin,” the big Dell desktop I bought surplus from the Farmer’s Market. I think—but have no way to test—that the reason “Justin” isn’t working is his on/off switch is broken. Solution if that’s the case is to replace the on/off switch. Justin, I was told by the expert who tore into it for me, is a custom-built “gamer’s” computer, with oodles of RAM, a big hard drive, and very high-resolution graphics—exactly what I need for my work. If replacing the on/off switch is as easy as I think replacing Lazarus’ keyboard will be, it’d be a lot cheaper to do that instead of taking a day to trek to Portland with it.
Words that rhyme with “samba”: I’ve already used “Hamas,” “drama,” “mama” and “pajamas” (yes, they all can be made to rhyme). “Okhrana” (the Russian Czar’s secret police), “Donder” (the reindeer) and “lambda” (the Greek letter) are probably too obscure, and “Osama” and “Obama” too current-events (I’d said I didn’t mind, but there are limits). “Dalai Lama” would probably be okay, though (I knew—an aside—somebody who had a llama named “Dolly”), and so would “McDonalds.” And “trauma,” “sauna,” and even “bomber” and “manana.” Yes, they will all rhyme when I’m done with ‘em. More?
I don’t have to have everything rhyme with “samba,” of course; in that first (and at this point only) verse, I’ve also got “Wall Street” and “Main Street,” and “proper” and “opera,” and in the ending tag line there’s “December” and “remember.” But the more words I have trying to rhyme with “samba,” the more sense it will appear to make. I have no hope of it really making sense; we will have to rely on appearances.
Though I refuse to force these things, I would like to be done with it before the weekend; I have a class to help teach on Friday, a funeral to attend Saturday—and maybe a writing seminar to attend, too.
A lady in the audience at the library Saturday videotaped me playing “Naked Space Hamsters in Love” with the group; she did ask if she could post it on YouTube (and the answer to that one is always “yes”), but I haven’t seen it yet. I got to hit up the musicians—the rest of them are collectively the Ocean Bottom Blues Band—about performing at the 2012 Relay for Life July 7-8, and they’re interested. I’ll hit up the folks at the Rapture Room tonight, too; there are folks from two or three bands that regularly come to that. I expect the hardest part will be finding bands willing to play in the middle of the night—but the event is a 24-hour one and somebody has to. And the Relay folks don’t want just bands, either—they’d like all sorts of acts. There are three dance schools in Tillamook, and the square dancers (if there are enough of them around during the winter)—but I know some unconventional entertainers, too. How would Relay for Life feel about standup comedy? Or a fire dancer? (That would be cool in the middle of the night.) I’ll have to ask…
Joe
And if that works, I should consider repairing on my own “Justin,” the big Dell desktop I bought surplus from the Farmer’s Market. I think—but have no way to test—that the reason “Justin” isn’t working is his on/off switch is broken. Solution if that’s the case is to replace the on/off switch. Justin, I was told by the expert who tore into it for me, is a custom-built “gamer’s” computer, with oodles of RAM, a big hard drive, and very high-resolution graphics—exactly what I need for my work. If replacing the on/off switch is as easy as I think replacing Lazarus’ keyboard will be, it’d be a lot cheaper to do that instead of taking a day to trek to Portland with it.
Words that rhyme with “samba”: I’ve already used “Hamas,” “drama,” “mama” and “pajamas” (yes, they all can be made to rhyme). “Okhrana” (the Russian Czar’s secret police), “Donder” (the reindeer) and “lambda” (the Greek letter) are probably too obscure, and “Osama” and “Obama” too current-events (I’d said I didn’t mind, but there are limits). “Dalai Lama” would probably be okay, though (I knew—an aside—somebody who had a llama named “Dolly”), and so would “McDonalds.” And “trauma,” “sauna,” and even “bomber” and “manana.” Yes, they will all rhyme when I’m done with ‘em. More?
I don’t have to have everything rhyme with “samba,” of course; in that first (and at this point only) verse, I’ve also got “Wall Street” and “Main Street,” and “proper” and “opera,” and in the ending tag line there’s “December” and “remember.” But the more words I have trying to rhyme with “samba,” the more sense it will appear to make. I have no hope of it really making sense; we will have to rely on appearances.
Though I refuse to force these things, I would like to be done with it before the weekend; I have a class to help teach on Friday, a funeral to attend Saturday—and maybe a writing seminar to attend, too.
A lady in the audience at the library Saturday videotaped me playing “Naked Space Hamsters in Love” with the group; she did ask if she could post it on YouTube (and the answer to that one is always “yes”), but I haven’t seen it yet. I got to hit up the musicians—the rest of them are collectively the Ocean Bottom Blues Band—about performing at the 2012 Relay for Life July 7-8, and they’re interested. I’ll hit up the folks at the Rapture Room tonight, too; there are folks from two or three bands that regularly come to that. I expect the hardest part will be finding bands willing to play in the middle of the night—but the event is a 24-hour one and somebody has to. And the Relay folks don’t want just bands, either—they’d like all sorts of acts. There are three dance schools in Tillamook, and the square dancers (if there are enough of them around during the winter)—but I know some unconventional entertainers, too. How would Relay for Life feel about standup comedy? Or a fire dancer? (That would be cool in the middle of the night.) I’ll have to ask…
Joe
Friday, October 7, 2011
OF TSUNAMIS AND SAMBAS...
Well, the Tsunami Grill was fun. Small turnout because of the Oregon Ducks game, and that meant I got to play more stuff, which was nice—but what I really go there for is the chance to play lead guitar to (mostly) rock ‘n’ roll music. I wouldn’t call it “practice,” because I’m trying to be perfect when I do it, and I don’t have many chances to do it. With a few exceptions, the cover songs the other musicians are playing are things I’ve never heard the originals of, so I’m not trying to recreate somebody else’s lead; I just do something that I think fits in. Hopefully, it does.
(And what I do isn’t actually lead work. It’s simply competent—and interesting—rhythm, that’s capable of standing on its own as an in-lieu-of lead if no one else is playing lead—which last night was often the case. I’m still pursuing the role that was marked out for me some years back by a rock band I played with that did a lot of Beatles covers. They wanted me to be their John Lennon, and I decided he wasn’t a bad role model: a competent rhythm guitarist who could sometimes play lead. And wrote stuff.)
I was asked at the Tsunami when my next gig was and had to admit I didn’t have any lined up. I should take care of that. (I said that before but haven’t done anything about it.) I don’t mind playing solo for free and just having the Ugly Orange Bucket out for tips and trying to sell CDs; if I’m playing with the band, though, I want the band to get paid.
Just a few more photos to take for the “Twenty-Four Seven” music video. I need to photograph copies of Great Expectations and Fear of Flying at the library, the lighthouse at God’s Lighthouse church, the billboard in Garibaldi advertising the 2-foot long jerky, the “free hearing tests” sandwich board in Tillamook, the golf course sign next to the cheese factory, the arcade and espresso stand and one of the “Thanks for Visiting!” signs in Rockaway, and The Cow Nobody Wanted up at the Mohler Grange (which ultimately decided they did want it). And then I think I’ll have everything and can begin putting the video together.
“Samba with the Llamas” started to turn political, and I decided I’d let it; it’s likely to be a throwaway anyway, since it’s got (presently) a rather nonsensical (albeit risqué-sounding) tag line. It’s okay if the song talks about current events—I’m not hitting for “timeless classic” here. And I can always safeguard my reputation as a nonpolitical writer by telling folks, “This is a Southern Pigfish song.” They do the politically-charged stuff. I don’t.
One thing I will need before I’m done is a whole lot more words that rhyme, or almost rhyme, with “samba.” Since I refuse on principle to use a rhyming dictionary, I’ll be dependent on what I come up with myself and what suggestions I get from others. (That was a hint, folks.)
I always try to figure out where melodies come from. This one’s bouncy, danceable melody, near as I can figure out, was partly robbed from Jimmy Buffett, partly from the Beach Boys, partly from Stan Good’s “Real Good Coffee and a Real Good Wife” (which I musicated) and partly from Don Varnell’s “Another Crappy Christmas” (which I also musicated). Put ‘em all together, with a few extraneous beats, and it does sound original.
I have no idea whether it’s a real samba or not. I haven’t danced the samba since I took ballroom dancing in junior high school. And if I’m attributing the song to Southern Pigfish, it doesn’t matter. What would a folk-rock band from Arkansas know about sambas?
Music Saturday at the library, and Sunday night at the Rapture Room. Opportunities to remind everyone that I’m the entertainment chairperson for the local Relay for Life campaign, and I want them to perform. July 7-8 at the county fairgrounds.
Joe
(And what I do isn’t actually lead work. It’s simply competent—and interesting—rhythm, that’s capable of standing on its own as an in-lieu-of lead if no one else is playing lead—which last night was often the case. I’m still pursuing the role that was marked out for me some years back by a rock band I played with that did a lot of Beatles covers. They wanted me to be their John Lennon, and I decided he wasn’t a bad role model: a competent rhythm guitarist who could sometimes play lead. And wrote stuff.)
I was asked at the Tsunami when my next gig was and had to admit I didn’t have any lined up. I should take care of that. (I said that before but haven’t done anything about it.) I don’t mind playing solo for free and just having the Ugly Orange Bucket out for tips and trying to sell CDs; if I’m playing with the band, though, I want the band to get paid.
Just a few more photos to take for the “Twenty-Four Seven” music video. I need to photograph copies of Great Expectations and Fear of Flying at the library, the lighthouse at God’s Lighthouse church, the billboard in Garibaldi advertising the 2-foot long jerky, the “free hearing tests” sandwich board in Tillamook, the golf course sign next to the cheese factory, the arcade and espresso stand and one of the “Thanks for Visiting!” signs in Rockaway, and The Cow Nobody Wanted up at the Mohler Grange (which ultimately decided they did want it). And then I think I’ll have everything and can begin putting the video together.
“Samba with the Llamas” started to turn political, and I decided I’d let it; it’s likely to be a throwaway anyway, since it’s got (presently) a rather nonsensical (albeit risqué-sounding) tag line. It’s okay if the song talks about current events—I’m not hitting for “timeless classic” here. And I can always safeguard my reputation as a nonpolitical writer by telling folks, “This is a Southern Pigfish song.” They do the politically-charged stuff. I don’t.
One thing I will need before I’m done is a whole lot more words that rhyme, or almost rhyme, with “samba.” Since I refuse on principle to use a rhyming dictionary, I’ll be dependent on what I come up with myself and what suggestions I get from others. (That was a hint, folks.)
I always try to figure out where melodies come from. This one’s bouncy, danceable melody, near as I can figure out, was partly robbed from Jimmy Buffett, partly from the Beach Boys, partly from Stan Good’s “Real Good Coffee and a Real Good Wife” (which I musicated) and partly from Don Varnell’s “Another Crappy Christmas” (which I also musicated). Put ‘em all together, with a few extraneous beats, and it does sound original.
I have no idea whether it’s a real samba or not. I haven’t danced the samba since I took ballroom dancing in junior high school. And if I’m attributing the song to Southern Pigfish, it doesn’t matter. What would a folk-rock band from Arkansas know about sambas?
Music Saturday at the library, and Sunday night at the Rapture Room. Opportunities to remind everyone that I’m the entertainment chairperson for the local Relay for Life campaign, and I want them to perform. July 7-8 at the county fairgrounds.
Joe
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
UPDATES...
Stuff to do… “Lazarus” the laptop needs to learn some more programs, mostly of the graphic-design variety; if he’s going to be the “basic” computer he needs to be able to do more basic stuff. Really important is going to be equipping him with a conventional keyboard (one without 3 missing keys, in other words). For the nonce, all the desktop computers—the nearly-new Dell that doesn’t work, the short-on-brains Compaq I got as a temporary replacement for “Alice,” and old “StuartLittle” the semi-portable, can go out to the garage studio. Once I clean the studio, of course.
I am slowly compiling a list of things that need to be done on a trip to Portland, and I’ll endeavor to do them all on the same day; if I’m going to invest $40 in gas, I’m determined to be efficient about it. There’s an employment consultant who’s asked me to come see her, an interim city manager I want to visit with about becoming his permanent replacement, and some computer parts to score—and I’d take the Dell to a professional computer geek if I could find one there. If I could arrange to do a performance while I was in Portland, either at Eric John Kaiser’s Songwriter Showcase (which is on Tuesday nights) or Whitney Streed’s Tonic Lounge comedy night (Wednesday nights), that’d be perfect.
What to perform? I haven’t written anything new lately (but there are some more risqué numbers Whitney’s people have not heard yet—I could do those). And with the looming possibility I could end up with an interim city manager job in short order, I should probably schedule this trip right away. Of course, my track record at landing job interviews hasn’t been particularly stellar of late—but there’s no real excuse for delaying the trip (and the longer I wait, the worse the weather’s going to get, too).
Last two meetings of the writers’ group have had only two people. I fear we are headed for irrelevance, here. I think the assignment I’ll give everybody is to prepare for next Tuesday something to perform at the upcoming open mike at the Arts Center Saturday, Nov. 5; that’ll give us maybe two more meetings in which to polish it. After that, if we haven’t garnered more participation I’m going to have to pull the plug on it.
And that “preparing something” includes me, too. The Coventry songwriters group wanted a “dance song” this month, and I just might be able to deliver. Something happy, bouncy and thoroughly devoid of meaning (at least right now—it might acquire meaning later, as these things sometimes do). Tentative title: “Samba with the Llamas.” And in case anyone was wondering, no, it is unlikely any of the llamas will die.
And a couple of extraneous notes. I got approached by one of the fellows involved in the Food Pantry; he’s trying to put together a Christmas toy drive, and wanted to know if Deathgrass could put on a toys-instead-of-food benefit concert. I bet we could. And I’ve been tapped to round up and organize the entertainment for next year’s Relay for Life, a 24-hour anti-cancer run; I think the assumption was that I know a lot of musicians (I mentioned that to somebody, and they told me that yes, I do know a lot of musicians).
Music Thursday night at the Tsunami Grill, and Saturday afternoon at the Tillamook Library, I think. Friday? I don’t know. My time might be better used getting some recording done. And I still want to finish the “Twenty-Four Seven” video.
Joe
I am slowly compiling a list of things that need to be done on a trip to Portland, and I’ll endeavor to do them all on the same day; if I’m going to invest $40 in gas, I’m determined to be efficient about it. There’s an employment consultant who’s asked me to come see her, an interim city manager I want to visit with about becoming his permanent replacement, and some computer parts to score—and I’d take the Dell to a professional computer geek if I could find one there. If I could arrange to do a performance while I was in Portland, either at Eric John Kaiser’s Songwriter Showcase (which is on Tuesday nights) or Whitney Streed’s Tonic Lounge comedy night (Wednesday nights), that’d be perfect.
What to perform? I haven’t written anything new lately (but there are some more risqué numbers Whitney’s people have not heard yet—I could do those). And with the looming possibility I could end up with an interim city manager job in short order, I should probably schedule this trip right away. Of course, my track record at landing job interviews hasn’t been particularly stellar of late—but there’s no real excuse for delaying the trip (and the longer I wait, the worse the weather’s going to get, too).
Last two meetings of the writers’ group have had only two people. I fear we are headed for irrelevance, here. I think the assignment I’ll give everybody is to prepare for next Tuesday something to perform at the upcoming open mike at the Arts Center Saturday, Nov. 5; that’ll give us maybe two more meetings in which to polish it. After that, if we haven’t garnered more participation I’m going to have to pull the plug on it.
And that “preparing something” includes me, too. The Coventry songwriters group wanted a “dance song” this month, and I just might be able to deliver. Something happy, bouncy and thoroughly devoid of meaning (at least right now—it might acquire meaning later, as these things sometimes do). Tentative title: “Samba with the Llamas.” And in case anyone was wondering, no, it is unlikely any of the llamas will die.
And a couple of extraneous notes. I got approached by one of the fellows involved in the Food Pantry; he’s trying to put together a Christmas toy drive, and wanted to know if Deathgrass could put on a toys-instead-of-food benefit concert. I bet we could. And I’ve been tapped to round up and organize the entertainment for next year’s Relay for Life, a 24-hour anti-cancer run; I think the assumption was that I know a lot of musicians (I mentioned that to somebody, and they told me that yes, I do know a lot of musicians).
Music Thursday night at the Tsunami Grill, and Saturday afternoon at the Tillamook Library, I think. Friday? I don’t know. My time might be better used getting some recording done. And I still want to finish the “Twenty-Four Seven” video.
Joe
Sunday, October 2, 2011
A MUSIC WEEKEND...
The Hoffman Center crowd really liked “Pole Dancing for Jesus”; I think it got the best applause all evening. Don’t know how to translate that into an income, but I’m definitely getting known. Met another writer who was also performing, and encouraged him to come to the Sunday night jam at the Rapture Room.
Went to play with the Friday Night Group at City Hall but there weren’t many performers there, or much audience, either; Elsie (accordion) and I were about the only ones who could play lead. I had heard from a couple former regulars (who weren’t there, and may not be back) that they, too, had gotten frustrated by the couple of people who can’t keep time, can’t play in tune and don’t seem to be learning—but keep coming to play. I understand. I expect I have a higher frustration level than most folks, having been a city manager, but I haven’t gone much lately myself. I don’t run the show so I can’t change anything. All I can do is not be there. No offense to the non-frustrating folks there—but I want to be playing music on Friday nights and would rather be doing it somewhere more productive.
Without a high level of expertise in the group, I had to stick to the familiar, so the crowd (using the term loosely) got Leon Payne’s “Lost Highway,” “Pole Dancing for Jesus,” “Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues” (because somebody requested it) and Hank Williams’ “You Win Again” (the only Hank song I can actually sing). One out-of-town fellow in the audience asked me how long I’d been playing guitar; when I told him 30-odd years, he nodded, and said “I figured—you sound just like those old guys.” I think it was a compliment. (He was a Hank Williams fan.)
Since the Train Set gig was cancelled, I went to play music at the library (good crew of musicians there, all of whom used to play on Fridays at City Hall), and they got “One: I Love You,” “In the Shadows I’ll Be Watching You,” “Leavin’ It to Beaver” (which I almost never play because it’s so long) and “Naked Space Hamsters in Love,” along with “Pole Dancing” (I was trying to practice that one a lot). At the Arts Center’s reception for the Shoe Project, there seemed to be a bunch of people crowded around my piece, which plays Donna Devine’s “Sometimes She Could Scream.” Hopefully, they were listening—and hopefully they liked it.
What’s next? I really don’t have anything on the horizon, so I need to make something happen. There’s some stuff to finish, of course: two videos, one of which I have control over and one not, and one more song contest to enter. It would be good to schedule another Failed Economy Show benefit for the Food Pantry—maybe this one could be timed for around Thanksgiving. And I should hit up some of the venues around Manzanita, Nehalem and Wheeler that book solo-or-duo acoustic acts, and see if they’d be interested in me. Before the memory of the Hoffman Center Talent Show fades completely from folks’ consciousness.
And sad news: the Oyster Shooters, one of this area’s most famous rock bands (and arguably the best), have broken up after ten years in business. That leaves, I think, a huge void in the local music scene. Could Deathgrass fill it? Doubtful—it’s a different style of music—but there may be a few opportunities, for us and for others. There is a Depression-driven demand for local live music that seems to be getting bigger.
Joe
Went to play with the Friday Night Group at City Hall but there weren’t many performers there, or much audience, either; Elsie (accordion) and I were about the only ones who could play lead. I had heard from a couple former regulars (who weren’t there, and may not be back) that they, too, had gotten frustrated by the couple of people who can’t keep time, can’t play in tune and don’t seem to be learning—but keep coming to play. I understand. I expect I have a higher frustration level than most folks, having been a city manager, but I haven’t gone much lately myself. I don’t run the show so I can’t change anything. All I can do is not be there. No offense to the non-frustrating folks there—but I want to be playing music on Friday nights and would rather be doing it somewhere more productive.
Without a high level of expertise in the group, I had to stick to the familiar, so the crowd (using the term loosely) got Leon Payne’s “Lost Highway,” “Pole Dancing for Jesus,” “Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues” (because somebody requested it) and Hank Williams’ “You Win Again” (the only Hank song I can actually sing). One out-of-town fellow in the audience asked me how long I’d been playing guitar; when I told him 30-odd years, he nodded, and said “I figured—you sound just like those old guys.” I think it was a compliment. (He was a Hank Williams fan.)
Since the Train Set gig was cancelled, I went to play music at the library (good crew of musicians there, all of whom used to play on Fridays at City Hall), and they got “One: I Love You,” “In the Shadows I’ll Be Watching You,” “Leavin’ It to Beaver” (which I almost never play because it’s so long) and “Naked Space Hamsters in Love,” along with “Pole Dancing” (I was trying to practice that one a lot). At the Arts Center’s reception for the Shoe Project, there seemed to be a bunch of people crowded around my piece, which plays Donna Devine’s “Sometimes She Could Scream.” Hopefully, they were listening—and hopefully they liked it.
What’s next? I really don’t have anything on the horizon, so I need to make something happen. There’s some stuff to finish, of course: two videos, one of which I have control over and one not, and one more song contest to enter. It would be good to schedule another Failed Economy Show benefit for the Food Pantry—maybe this one could be timed for around Thanksgiving. And I should hit up some of the venues around Manzanita, Nehalem and Wheeler that book solo-or-duo acoustic acts, and see if they’d be interested in me. Before the memory of the Hoffman Center Talent Show fades completely from folks’ consciousness.
And sad news: the Oyster Shooters, one of this area’s most famous rock bands (and arguably the best), have broken up after ten years in business. That leaves, I think, a huge void in the local music scene. Could Deathgrass fill it? Doubtful—it’s a different style of music—but there may be a few opportunities, for us and for others. There is a Depression-driven demand for local live music that seems to be getting bigger.
Joe
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