Like Joni Mitchell once said (in a song), “All my bags are packed, and I’m ready to go.” Only item not packed and waiting by the door is the Tascam; first thing tomorrow, I pick up the CD with the Failed Economy Show songs from John, listen to them, pick one and copy it to the Tascam to take to southern Oregon. I have, I think, everything else. Cell phone’s on the charger; cookies are baked and cooling. Even the alarm clock is packed.
En route, I’ll stop by a computer repair place I’d phoned and get to pick up (I hope) a power cable for daughter Kimberly’s old laptop, which will be making the trip with me. At Myrtle Point City hall, I’ll pick up a copy of their budget, ordinance book, and comprehensive plan—light reading before bed. Saturday I get to spend the whole day in a suit, being interviewed and inspected for the city manager job. I’ll spend Friday and Saturday nights in a motel in Myrtle Point, then Sunday and Monday nights with George in Central Point, I get to play music at the Wild Goose Sunday night, practice with Darrin (harmonica) on Sunday and Dan (mandolin) on Monday, and also on Sunday, record guitar tracks for Scott Garriott’s album. It’ll be a full trip, both from the job end and the music end.
And a long trip in the car—first one in months. Is that a chance to finish a song? I do get my best writing work done on long trips.
Another gig (unpaid, of course): got called by the lady doing booking for nearby Rockaway Beach’s 100th anniversary celebration; she said she’d been told, “You have GOT to get these guys” (meaning our band), and you can’t refuse an invitation like that. Dick and I will do it; Rockaway’s new City Hall is a nice place, but small—ideal for an acoustic duo. An hour, nearly all of it my stuff:
Duct Tape (mod. fast country)
Tillamook Railroad Blues (deliberate blues, D)
Bluebird on My Windshield (fast bluegrass)
Armadillo on the Interstate (slow & sleazy)
Hey, Little Chicken (mod. fast sorta blues)
I May Write You from Jupiter (fast bluegrass)
Ain’t Got No Home (mod. slow country)
Welcome to Hebo Waltz (mod. fast waltz)
Doing Battle with the Lawn (fast bluegrass)
Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues (slow & sleazy)
Milepost 43 (mod. fast country)
I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas (mod. slow country)
11 by me, one by Woody Guthrie. (I want to be able to say “This goes out to all the homeless people out there.” Never had the chance to say that in public.) I might substitute “Leavin’ It to Beaver” (an old song, off the first album) for “Doing Battle with the Lawn.” A nostalgic song would be appropriate for a centennial celebration, and “Beaver” would work well. The song has an awful lot of words, and moves very fast—I’ll have to practice my breathing to make sure I can do it. It’s also a long song (over 6 minutes), so we could end up running a little overtime.
And then also in July, I’ve got the RVTV taping in Ashland Saturday, 18 July, and Garibaldi Days on 25 July. Auditions for the Talent Show at Garibaldi Days will be Thursday, 9 July, and I want to be in that, too.
I am glad I got so much sleep when I had the time…
Joe
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
TWO DAYS...
TWO DAYS till the trip to Myrtle Point. My bag is packed, but everything doesn’t fit; some of it’s going to have to go in another container. I’m packing for five days; I don’t know if I’ll get to stay that long.
The job front actually looks hopeful for a change (it’s probably illusory, but I’ll ride the hope as long as I can). Not only is Myrtle Point interviewing me, but I found out Gold Beach, where I’d also applied to be city manager, is checking my background—and one usually doesn’t do that unless one is seriously considering hiring the person. (And Gold Beach is also in southern Oregon.) And a little water district here on the North Coast has started looking for a new manager—not, for a change, because of financial problems, but simply because the current manager is retiring. I’ll apply. It’d be a great gig; I could commute from Garibaldi, and for a change not have the expense of keeping up two houses.
“The Taboo Song” (tentative title) is done. I managed to include 15 things you’re not supposed to write songs about: (1) dental hygeine, (2) liposuction, (3) pederasty, (4) breast reduction, (5) babies, (6) libraries, (7) deformed puppies, (8) aborton, (9) narcolepsy, (10) litter boxes, (11) Star Trek conventions, (12) football, (13) necrophilia, (14) war, and (15) imaginary women. Compressed as tight as I think I can, it still comes in at just under 2 minutes—20 seconds too long for Lorelei’s 100-second video. I may do it anyway. I did script out a commentary to run onscreen while the song is playing and the slides are “rolling,” and the commentary does talk—briefly—about my hopes for the future of the music business. I’d hate to not use it.
On the other hand, it’s a not-bad little song. I did another recording, with a Rap on the front end, and a lead break and final chorus on the rear—and slowed down just a hair, to make it more danceable—and it came in a little over 4 minutes, which is just about ideal. Not album material by any means, but they may like it at the Wild Goose. And it does feel good to have accomplished something start to finish in a short period of time. URL is http://www.soundclick.com/bands/page_songinfo.cfm/bandID=681142&songID=7750801. It’s on the “Works in Progress” page.
I figured out who I was emulating when I wrote this—it was Scott Garriott, a songwriter I know in Ashland who writes some of the most disturbing folk music I have ever laid ears on. Very traditional formats, with compelling melodies and very, very strange lyrics. I’ll be seeing Scott while I’m down south; he asked if I could record some guitar tracks for an upcoming album—and I’d like to. Scott is the second (of two) non-famous writers I’ve ended up “channeling” in a song (the other is Lou Quarmwater, who lives in Canada).
Still to do for the trip: I’ve got RVTV setlists to dump onto CD for Darrin (harmonica) and Dan (mandolin), whom I want to enlist as leads for the TV show next month. I should have Failed Economy Show songs from John Thursday morning; from that three or four, I’ll pick one to take to southern Oregon on the Tascam to get other people’s lead parts. I’ll have three tracks to play with, so I can do three different leads (more if I want to be creative).
THREE WEEKS to the Garibaldi Days gig—and I know we’re on the schedule, because I’m typesetting the schedule. We will have two hours. We HAVE to practice. That’s twice as long a time frame as we had for the aborted Museum gig, and while I can include a lot of material from the Failed Economy Show, I don’t want to use all of it. I only want to use the Other People’s Songs we did that came out good (and ideally, that had people dancing). There is a difference between playing a benefit concert for a Cause, and playing a gig for entertainment, and I want to make it clear that we understand the distinction. Fun songs, not message ones, in other words.
Joe
The job front actually looks hopeful for a change (it’s probably illusory, but I’ll ride the hope as long as I can). Not only is Myrtle Point interviewing me, but I found out Gold Beach, where I’d also applied to be city manager, is checking my background—and one usually doesn’t do that unless one is seriously considering hiring the person. (And Gold Beach is also in southern Oregon.) And a little water district here on the North Coast has started looking for a new manager—not, for a change, because of financial problems, but simply because the current manager is retiring. I’ll apply. It’d be a great gig; I could commute from Garibaldi, and for a change not have the expense of keeping up two houses.
“The Taboo Song” (tentative title) is done. I managed to include 15 things you’re not supposed to write songs about: (1) dental hygeine, (2) liposuction, (3) pederasty, (4) breast reduction, (5) babies, (6) libraries, (7) deformed puppies, (8) aborton, (9) narcolepsy, (10) litter boxes, (11) Star Trek conventions, (12) football, (13) necrophilia, (14) war, and (15) imaginary women. Compressed as tight as I think I can, it still comes in at just under 2 minutes—20 seconds too long for Lorelei’s 100-second video. I may do it anyway. I did script out a commentary to run onscreen while the song is playing and the slides are “rolling,” and the commentary does talk—briefly—about my hopes for the future of the music business. I’d hate to not use it.
On the other hand, it’s a not-bad little song. I did another recording, with a Rap on the front end, and a lead break and final chorus on the rear—and slowed down just a hair, to make it more danceable—and it came in a little over 4 minutes, which is just about ideal. Not album material by any means, but they may like it at the Wild Goose. And it does feel good to have accomplished something start to finish in a short period of time. URL is http://www.soundclick.com/bands/page_songinfo.cfm/bandID=681142&songID=7750801. It’s on the “Works in Progress” page.
I figured out who I was emulating when I wrote this—it was Scott Garriott, a songwriter I know in Ashland who writes some of the most disturbing folk music I have ever laid ears on. Very traditional formats, with compelling melodies and very, very strange lyrics. I’ll be seeing Scott while I’m down south; he asked if I could record some guitar tracks for an upcoming album—and I’d like to. Scott is the second (of two) non-famous writers I’ve ended up “channeling” in a song (the other is Lou Quarmwater, who lives in Canada).
Still to do for the trip: I’ve got RVTV setlists to dump onto CD for Darrin (harmonica) and Dan (mandolin), whom I want to enlist as leads for the TV show next month. I should have Failed Economy Show songs from John Thursday morning; from that three or four, I’ll pick one to take to southern Oregon on the Tascam to get other people’s lead parts. I’ll have three tracks to play with, so I can do three different leads (more if I want to be creative).
THREE WEEKS to the Garibaldi Days gig—and I know we’re on the schedule, because I’m typesetting the schedule. We will have two hours. We HAVE to practice. That’s twice as long a time frame as we had for the aborted Museum gig, and while I can include a lot of material from the Failed Economy Show, I don’t want to use all of it. I only want to use the Other People’s Songs we did that came out good (and ideally, that had people dancing). There is a difference between playing a benefit concert for a Cause, and playing a gig for entertainment, and I want to make it clear that we understand the distinction. Fun songs, not message ones, in other words.
Joe
Sunday, June 21, 2009
THE LIVE RECORDING (AND A NEW SONG)...
The live recording of “Me and Rufus, and Burnin’ Down the House” at the Tillamook Library didn’t come out too bad; I posted it unedited online on the “Wrabek’s Works in Progress” page (http://soundclick.com/bands/page_songinfo.cfm?bandID=681142&songID=7735760). It’ll do until I have something better (which I may never—that’s happened a lot). I had to use my singing mike for the recording (the instrument mike I’d brought had stopped working), so I had to position it pretty close to me to pick things up. Even with the volumes turned way, way up on the Tascam, my rhythm guitar tended to dominate, though the vocal was okay. Caught the bass, too, though Wayne’s lead guitar is a bit faint, and Dick’s harmonica didn’t come through at all.
Next time—I do want to do this again, with a different song—I think I’ll use the old 6-channel mixer, and three mikes, the singing mike for my voice and two instrument mikes trained on the harmonica and the amp of the lead guitar. Have to use the mixer for this because the Tascam only has one mike input (though you can dump it to two tracks). If I had someone operating the mixer (and that might be possible), they could boost the volume of the appropriate channels during the lead breaks. And we could get a pretty good product, I think. I like to involve people who have good ears in this process, because they can hear things I can’t.
Another new song—a throwaway, I think (though you never know). I got alerted to an article in a British paper that had a list of things you’re not supposed to write popular songs about: war, newborn babies, football, and the like. Some writers from Just Plain Folks added more. And the question had to be asked (by me)—why NOT write about those things? And (for good measure) could they maybe all go in the same song? After all, some of them do rhyme—“liposuction” and “breast reduction,” for instance.
The song got mostly written in the shower (and I take short showers). Just two verses, each with a chorus, then maybe a break and a final chorus. A love song, of course (yes, I really can use liposuction, dental hygeine, litter boxes, and breast reduction in a love song)—and definitely country music. Delivered in what some folks have called my “hangdog” country voice, it could actually sound sweet. The sort of thing people would be embarrassed to dance to, but would want to dance to anyway.
Though a song about the things you’re not supposed to write songs about is potentially a candidate for that 100-second Performing Songwriter video—it is, after all, a commentary on the state of the music business today—it’s probably too much of a conceptual leap. It was just fun. I do have a place where I could perform it, I think; I’m planning on playing at the Wild Goose in Ashland while I’m down in southern Oregon, and those folks have been most appreciative of my sleaziest songs. This one is probably something they’d expect of me.
I also sent off another song to the music publisher in California. She was asking the mailing list for Hallowe’en songs, and I just happen to have one—“Vampire Roumanian Babies.” It’s for a film, I think; if used, the song would be playing on a radio as background music at some point in the movie. I don’t have any illusions about it being precisely what the publisher’s looking for, but you never can tell. The lesson? Always have stuff reasonably professionally recorded you can send off at a moment’s notice. Just because opportunity doesn’t knock often doesn’t mean you shouldn’t always be prepared to answer.
I still need to collect a “base track” to take to southern Oregon on the Road Trip—the band won’t have the opportunity to record any more before I leave, because John’s too busy for a while with his new duties as the new Garibaldi city manager, but he’s got four tracks from the Failed Economy Show that he says came out decent, and I’ll pick from those.
Joe
Next time—I do want to do this again, with a different song—I think I’ll use the old 6-channel mixer, and three mikes, the singing mike for my voice and two instrument mikes trained on the harmonica and the amp of the lead guitar. Have to use the mixer for this because the Tascam only has one mike input (though you can dump it to two tracks). If I had someone operating the mixer (and that might be possible), they could boost the volume of the appropriate channels during the lead breaks. And we could get a pretty good product, I think. I like to involve people who have good ears in this process, because they can hear things I can’t.
Another new song—a throwaway, I think (though you never know). I got alerted to an article in a British paper that had a list of things you’re not supposed to write popular songs about: war, newborn babies, football, and the like. Some writers from Just Plain Folks added more. And the question had to be asked (by me)—why NOT write about those things? And (for good measure) could they maybe all go in the same song? After all, some of them do rhyme—“liposuction” and “breast reduction,” for instance.
The song got mostly written in the shower (and I take short showers). Just two verses, each with a chorus, then maybe a break and a final chorus. A love song, of course (yes, I really can use liposuction, dental hygeine, litter boxes, and breast reduction in a love song)—and definitely country music. Delivered in what some folks have called my “hangdog” country voice, it could actually sound sweet. The sort of thing people would be embarrassed to dance to, but would want to dance to anyway.
Though a song about the things you’re not supposed to write songs about is potentially a candidate for that 100-second Performing Songwriter video—it is, after all, a commentary on the state of the music business today—it’s probably too much of a conceptual leap. It was just fun. I do have a place where I could perform it, I think; I’m planning on playing at the Wild Goose in Ashland while I’m down in southern Oregon, and those folks have been most appreciative of my sleaziest songs. This one is probably something they’d expect of me.
I also sent off another song to the music publisher in California. She was asking the mailing list for Hallowe’en songs, and I just happen to have one—“Vampire Roumanian Babies.” It’s for a film, I think; if used, the song would be playing on a radio as background music at some point in the movie. I don’t have any illusions about it being precisely what the publisher’s looking for, but you never can tell. The lesson? Always have stuff reasonably professionally recorded you can send off at a moment’s notice. Just because opportunity doesn’t knock often doesn’t mean you shouldn’t always be prepared to answer.
I still need to collect a “base track” to take to southern Oregon on the Road Trip—the band won’t have the opportunity to record any more before I leave, because John’s too busy for a while with his new duties as the new Garibaldi city manager, but he’s got four tracks from the Failed Economy Show that he says came out decent, and I’ll pick from those.
Joe
Saturday, June 20, 2009
COUNTDOWN (AND VIDEO THOUGHTS)...
Is writing things down an excuse for doing them? Sometimes I think so (like now). Lots of things to do before the Road Trip: get haircut, shine shoes, assemble books (I will visit one of my favorite bookstores while in Medford), pack (I’ll do it early, so I have plenty of time to worry about what I’m forgetting), get the van tuned up, apply for more jobs.
I ran across an article about some city-manager jobs in Midwestern states going vacant for over a year, because nobody’s applying (the economy is rottener in some places than here, apparently). I found a town in northern Minnesota that looked attractive, and I’ll offer them me and see what happens. The worst they can say is no (and that’s what everyone else is saying, so it ought to be familiar by now). Might do it a few times, even—all it takes is paper, printer ink, and stamps, and I have all those.
A few projects to get done during Countdown Period, too. I have the Garibaldi Days program to design and typeset (a big job, and completely unpaid, but important for re-establishing my reputation as a graphic designer), and a video to do for Lorelei Loveridge, the Canadian-British songwriter who’s reincarnated Performing Songwriter magazine as an online (and interactive) “club” on Facebook. 100 seconds, in which I have to both tell about myself and offer some perspective on the state (and future) of the music industry.
Doable? Of course—I love new projects. I’ll do it like I did “The 30-Second Resume,” with a soundtrack, slide show, and printed comments flashing on screen as the photos go by. 100 seconds is too short to use any existing song, so I’ll have to write one to fit; it probably can’t be any more than two verses. I can play around with speed and musical padding to make it fit. Probably a two-step, since I write country music. The phrase that keeps recurring when I think about it (and which I’d like to use somehow) is:
I’ve learned to lie, and cheat, and sin,
Signed up for Hell and can’t get in—
Another lonely singer at the gates of Babylon.
I think of the slide show tactic as “French video,” since I’ve seen it used most effectively on YouTube by French kids; I don’t know if it’s because they don’t have the technology available, but that’s certainly my problem—the technology exists, but I can’t afford it. However, I have always been good at getting maximum mileage out of what I have, and I have picked up some tricks from watching those French kids’ “videos.” The ability to run printed comments at the same time the other stuff is going on—and to control the timing separately—is a Godsend for me, because I always have too much to say. I can put some of it there. If I have three things (which don’t have to be exactly related) going on at the same time, the “video” becomes not-boring.
Also on the “getting maximum mileage out of what I have” front, I’ll record the musicians at the Tillamook Library performing the latest song, the one I wrote for Sara the librarian about her house fire. Tentatively titled “Me and Rufus, and Burnin’ Down the House.” (Rufus is her English bulldog, who was with her when the fire happened—they’re inseparable.) I can do (sorta) the trick John did when he recorded the band—set one instrument mike (one is all the Tascam can handle without help) out in the audience, trained roughly on my guitar but able to pick up everything in the room that’s amplified, and dump it to 2 tracks on the Tascam.
I played the song for the Friday Night Group, with Sara there, and she (and they) liked it. (Sara probably laughed more than everyone else.) So now they’re familiar (sort of) with it, and hopefully can follow. (Rufus, for his part, didn’t hear the song. He was asleep.)
Joe
I ran across an article about some city-manager jobs in Midwestern states going vacant for over a year, because nobody’s applying (the economy is rottener in some places than here, apparently). I found a town in northern Minnesota that looked attractive, and I’ll offer them me and see what happens. The worst they can say is no (and that’s what everyone else is saying, so it ought to be familiar by now). Might do it a few times, even—all it takes is paper, printer ink, and stamps, and I have all those.
A few projects to get done during Countdown Period, too. I have the Garibaldi Days program to design and typeset (a big job, and completely unpaid, but important for re-establishing my reputation as a graphic designer), and a video to do for Lorelei Loveridge, the Canadian-British songwriter who’s reincarnated Performing Songwriter magazine as an online (and interactive) “club” on Facebook. 100 seconds, in which I have to both tell about myself and offer some perspective on the state (and future) of the music industry.
Doable? Of course—I love new projects. I’ll do it like I did “The 30-Second Resume,” with a soundtrack, slide show, and printed comments flashing on screen as the photos go by. 100 seconds is too short to use any existing song, so I’ll have to write one to fit; it probably can’t be any more than two verses. I can play around with speed and musical padding to make it fit. Probably a two-step, since I write country music. The phrase that keeps recurring when I think about it (and which I’d like to use somehow) is:
I’ve learned to lie, and cheat, and sin,
Signed up for Hell and can’t get in—
Another lonely singer at the gates of Babylon.
I think of the slide show tactic as “French video,” since I’ve seen it used most effectively on YouTube by French kids; I don’t know if it’s because they don’t have the technology available, but that’s certainly my problem—the technology exists, but I can’t afford it. However, I have always been good at getting maximum mileage out of what I have, and I have picked up some tricks from watching those French kids’ “videos.” The ability to run printed comments at the same time the other stuff is going on—and to control the timing separately—is a Godsend for me, because I always have too much to say. I can put some of it there. If I have three things (which don’t have to be exactly related) going on at the same time, the “video” becomes not-boring.
Also on the “getting maximum mileage out of what I have” front, I’ll record the musicians at the Tillamook Library performing the latest song, the one I wrote for Sara the librarian about her house fire. Tentatively titled “Me and Rufus, and Burnin’ Down the House.” (Rufus is her English bulldog, who was with her when the fire happened—they’re inseparable.) I can do (sorta) the trick John did when he recorded the band—set one instrument mike (one is all the Tascam can handle without help) out in the audience, trained roughly on my guitar but able to pick up everything in the room that’s amplified, and dump it to 2 tracks on the Tascam.
I played the song for the Friday Night Group, with Sara there, and she (and they) liked it. (Sara probably laughed more than everyone else.) So now they’re familiar (sort of) with it, and hopefully can follow. (Rufus, for his part, didn’t hear the song. He was asleep.)
Joe
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
THE RVTV SETLIST...
The Rogue Valley Television (RVTV) taping on Saturday, 18 July will be two sets, half an hour each, before a live audience. Southern Oregon Songwriters Assn. (SOSA) will be doing the taping. The shows will air separately on RVTV, the public-television station in Medford-Ashland, so each set (5 songs each) has got to hang together as a separate entity. I thought about doing one set with Darrin playing blues harp lead, and one with Dan doing mandolin, but really, everything I do sounds all right either way—and SOSA said I could have both of ‘em on stage if I wanted, so why not?
So I spec’d out the shows by subject matter instead (roughly)—one show dealing with serious social issues (not necessarily seriously, of course), and one show not:
THE SERIOUS-ISSUES SHOW:
Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues (slow & sleazy)
Dead Fishes (Elizabethan bluegrass)
No Good Songs About the War (mod. slow two-step)
Free-Range Person (fast bluegrass)
Un-Easy Street (mod. slow but bouncy two-step)
AND THE NOT-SERIOUS SHOW:
Dead Things in the Shower (mod. fast two-step)
Armadillo on the Interstate (slow & sleazy)
Doing Battle with the Lawn (fast bluegrass)
Hey, Little Chicken (mod. slow almost blues)
Santa’s Fallen and He Can’t Get Up (fast bluegrass)
I’ve avoided anything socially unacceptable—no songs about bestiality, cannibalism, anorexia, murdering one’s husband, or Internet porn. (Scary to think I actually have written songs about all those things.) No religion, either. I didn’t even include “The Termite Song” because I wasn’t sure whether you could say “fart” on the air. (It’s not one of George Carlin’s famous “Seven Words You Can’t Say on Television,” but this is Public Broadcasting—you never know.) I still have plenty to pick from—I have enough material to play a two-hour show for just about any kind of audience, I think.
It should be entertaining anyway. The “Serious Issues” setlist includes songs about pollution and the war, and three upbeat down-and-out songs, and the “Not Serious” list has three classics (one recorded in Nashville, and one that appeared on the Philippine Christmas album)—plus I get to mention Gene Burnett’s name on TV (since I wrote the chicken song for his album), and he’ll like that. Two co-writes among the ten. And all but two of the songs are ones either Darrin, or Dan, or both, have played before.
T-Poe, who has become southern Oregon’s poet laureate, I think (and is one of the best poets I know), will be emceeing the shows, and interviewing me in between songs. I need to find out not so much what his questions will consist of as how much time it will take; the shows are 28 minutes long, precisely (TV is a very unforgiving medium), and I want to have this thing scripted out right to the second if I can. I think I’ll send T-Poe a setlist (after I time the songs); he knows I like to do a Rap introducing songs, and we wouldn’t want his questions to duplicate what I’d normally say anyway. There are a couple of songs where the Rap is essential, and a couple where it could be left out entirely with no ill effects.
At the Wild Goose, I think I’ll play “50 Ways to Cure the Depression” (they ought to like the Paul Simon reference), and Stan Good’s “Un-Easy Street,” and one or two old standards, depending on what I’ve got available in the audience for co-musicians. It’d be nice to be able to stick around for the Northwest Pasta & Pizza open mike on Tuesday (hosted by Delonde Bell since Chris Parreira went off to the big time in Austin, Texas). But that Sunday I can play with Darrin, and Monday with Dan—I succeeded in reaching both of them.
Joe
So I spec’d out the shows by subject matter instead (roughly)—one show dealing with serious social issues (not necessarily seriously, of course), and one show not:
THE SERIOUS-ISSUES SHOW:
Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues (slow & sleazy)
Dead Fishes (Elizabethan bluegrass)
No Good Songs About the War (mod. slow two-step)
Free-Range Person (fast bluegrass)
Un-Easy Street (mod. slow but bouncy two-step)
AND THE NOT-SERIOUS SHOW:
Dead Things in the Shower (mod. fast two-step)
Armadillo on the Interstate (slow & sleazy)
Doing Battle with the Lawn (fast bluegrass)
Hey, Little Chicken (mod. slow almost blues)
Santa’s Fallen and He Can’t Get Up (fast bluegrass)
I’ve avoided anything socially unacceptable—no songs about bestiality, cannibalism, anorexia, murdering one’s husband, or Internet porn. (Scary to think I actually have written songs about all those things.) No religion, either. I didn’t even include “The Termite Song” because I wasn’t sure whether you could say “fart” on the air. (It’s not one of George Carlin’s famous “Seven Words You Can’t Say on Television,” but this is Public Broadcasting—you never know.) I still have plenty to pick from—I have enough material to play a two-hour show for just about any kind of audience, I think.
It should be entertaining anyway. The “Serious Issues” setlist includes songs about pollution and the war, and three upbeat down-and-out songs, and the “Not Serious” list has three classics (one recorded in Nashville, and one that appeared on the Philippine Christmas album)—plus I get to mention Gene Burnett’s name on TV (since I wrote the chicken song for his album), and he’ll like that. Two co-writes among the ten. And all but two of the songs are ones either Darrin, or Dan, or both, have played before.
T-Poe, who has become southern Oregon’s poet laureate, I think (and is one of the best poets I know), will be emceeing the shows, and interviewing me in between songs. I need to find out not so much what his questions will consist of as how much time it will take; the shows are 28 minutes long, precisely (TV is a very unforgiving medium), and I want to have this thing scripted out right to the second if I can. I think I’ll send T-Poe a setlist (after I time the songs); he knows I like to do a Rap introducing songs, and we wouldn’t want his questions to duplicate what I’d normally say anyway. There are a couple of songs where the Rap is essential, and a couple where it could be left out entirely with no ill effects.
At the Wild Goose, I think I’ll play “50 Ways to Cure the Depression” (they ought to like the Paul Simon reference), and Stan Good’s “Un-Easy Street,” and one or two old standards, depending on what I’ve got available in the audience for co-musicians. It’d be nice to be able to stick around for the Northwest Pasta & Pizza open mike on Tuesday (hosted by Delonde Bell since Chris Parreira went off to the big time in Austin, Texas). But that Sunday I can play with Darrin, and Monday with Dan—I succeeded in reaching both of them.
Joe
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
ROAD TRIP!
Haven’t done a Road Trip in a long time. It’s exciting.
I’ll be in a motel Friday and Saturday nights (June 26-27) in Myrtle Point for Interview Days. I have a place to stay down south, got a couple Alan Dean Foster books to bring George that he hasn’t read, a couple of new songs to play at the Wild Goose Sunday night (I probably ought to limit it to a couple—I expect they’ll want to hear some old standards, too). I think I can take daughter Kimberly’s old laptop with me (it needs a power cord, but I think I know where to get one); it’d be neat if I could configure the thing to recognize the Tascam, but I don’t know if that’s possible—the laptop is running (curses!) Windows Vista.
Among the to-do-before-I-leave items is to get the “base” track (rhythm guitar, bass, drums, and vocal) recorded to at least one song to take with me to get Southern Oregon leads on. The Tascam can hold three lead tracks (the “base” recording will be on one track, for reference), and we’ll see what I can round up. I want to have the musicians all primed in advance—I won’t have a lot of time to work with.
I do get to go back to Southern Oregon a second time, for taping July 18 of a TV show on the Medford-Ashland public television station. It’s something the Southern Oregon Songwriters set up a year ago, that involved getting some of the members trained in television production. I have seen some of the product, and it’s really well done. Now it’s my turn to be one of the ones on stage—and on the air. (I’d like to do that one with a band, too, if I could—I know whom I’d like to enlist). And when I go back down there July 18, it’d be nice to take another song with me and get “Southern Oregon leads” recorded to that.
I get to be Elder Statesman again (maybe it’s more like Songwriter Yoda) tomorrow; I’m meeting a younger guy who ran an ad on Craigslist saying he was a singer-songwriter. (I’d responded to his ad, and he telephoned me back right away—very odd behavior for Craigslist.) We’ll see what he’s got; if he fancies himself a writer, wherever he is on the scale, I want to encourage it. He said he was looking for a band, and I do have one of those—and we are looking for a lead guitarist, in fact. I guess it’s me that has to do the first cut, so to speak, and try to guess whether the guy would make a good fit with everybody else, based on what I know or can guess about everybody’s respective personalities.
Sara the librarian had a fire in her house a week ago (didn’t burn it down—just a lot of smoke damage)—and of course, there was a song in it. (Told her so.) She and her bulldog, Rufus, weren’t there when it happened; they were playing music with the Friday Night Group. (Actually, only she was. Rufus was just hanging out.) Sara herself gave me the trigger by telling me jokingly, “Well, Rufus wasn’t cooking.” There are in fact a number of things a bulldog would not be doing that wouldn’t cause a fire, and maybe—hopefully—it’s therapeutic to list them.
At this point, I have three verses, one of which I’m happy with (the other two still need work), and a chorus I’m real happy with. It’d be nice to have it in playable form in time for the next music session at the Tillamook Library—which might be as early as this Saturday. (The group took some time off to let Sara recover from her fire.)
Sara is working on a song herself (she’s one of the songwriters who’s finally germinated in this once-sterile soil of the North Coast)—a Gospel tune, she said, about “burning down the house for Jesus.” I do worry sometimes what kind of writers I’ve encouraged…
Joe
I’ll be in a motel Friday and Saturday nights (June 26-27) in Myrtle Point for Interview Days. I have a place to stay down south, got a couple Alan Dean Foster books to bring George that he hasn’t read, a couple of new songs to play at the Wild Goose Sunday night (I probably ought to limit it to a couple—I expect they’ll want to hear some old standards, too). I think I can take daughter Kimberly’s old laptop with me (it needs a power cord, but I think I know where to get one); it’d be neat if I could configure the thing to recognize the Tascam, but I don’t know if that’s possible—the laptop is running (curses!) Windows Vista.
Among the to-do-before-I-leave items is to get the “base” track (rhythm guitar, bass, drums, and vocal) recorded to at least one song to take with me to get Southern Oregon leads on. The Tascam can hold three lead tracks (the “base” recording will be on one track, for reference), and we’ll see what I can round up. I want to have the musicians all primed in advance—I won’t have a lot of time to work with.
I do get to go back to Southern Oregon a second time, for taping July 18 of a TV show on the Medford-Ashland public television station. It’s something the Southern Oregon Songwriters set up a year ago, that involved getting some of the members trained in television production. I have seen some of the product, and it’s really well done. Now it’s my turn to be one of the ones on stage—and on the air. (I’d like to do that one with a band, too, if I could—I know whom I’d like to enlist). And when I go back down there July 18, it’d be nice to take another song with me and get “Southern Oregon leads” recorded to that.
I get to be Elder Statesman again (maybe it’s more like Songwriter Yoda) tomorrow; I’m meeting a younger guy who ran an ad on Craigslist saying he was a singer-songwriter. (I’d responded to his ad, and he telephoned me back right away—very odd behavior for Craigslist.) We’ll see what he’s got; if he fancies himself a writer, wherever he is on the scale, I want to encourage it. He said he was looking for a band, and I do have one of those—and we are looking for a lead guitarist, in fact. I guess it’s me that has to do the first cut, so to speak, and try to guess whether the guy would make a good fit with everybody else, based on what I know or can guess about everybody’s respective personalities.
Sara the librarian had a fire in her house a week ago (didn’t burn it down—just a lot of smoke damage)—and of course, there was a song in it. (Told her so.) She and her bulldog, Rufus, weren’t there when it happened; they were playing music with the Friday Night Group. (Actually, only she was. Rufus was just hanging out.) Sara herself gave me the trigger by telling me jokingly, “Well, Rufus wasn’t cooking.” There are in fact a number of things a bulldog would not be doing that wouldn’t cause a fire, and maybe—hopefully—it’s therapeutic to list them.
At this point, I have three verses, one of which I’m happy with (the other two still need work), and a chorus I’m real happy with. It’d be nice to have it in playable form in time for the next music session at the Tillamook Library—which might be as early as this Saturday. (The group took some time off to let Sara recover from her fire.)
Sara is working on a song herself (she’s one of the songwriters who’s finally germinated in this once-sterile soil of the North Coast)—a Gospel tune, she said, about “burning down the house for Jesus.” I do worry sometimes what kind of writers I’ve encouraged…
Joe
Sunday, June 14, 2009
AND THE ALBUM...
I am really procrastinating, avoiding filling out yet another job application—this one, to go to work for the big (and financially troubled) state retirement system. I shouldn’t say that hiring me—in any position—would probably raise the general financial competence of the organization, so I won’t. I do have a job interview in two weeks, 250 miles away, and a lot of little things to do to get ready for it, but I don’t dare—and am not going to—wait to see what happens with it. I have been burned way too many times. If they hire me, great. After 14 months out of work, it’ll be a real surprise.
I have contacted a couple of folks down in southern Oregon, letting them know I’m going to be in the area, but I haven’t heard anything back. I probably need to contact more people I know—I know rather a lot of people down there. I’d like to spend a couple of days, play a lot of music, record “ancillary” lead tracks by three people to one song for the album, and maybe find out (since I’ll be down there) what, if anything, is going to happen to my application to be city planner in Phoenix, where I used to work.
Broke the bad news about the Garibaldi Museum gig to the Museum owners back East, and also to the band; I can’t do both the gig and the job interview at the same time (I have not mastered the knack of being in two places at once, though I keep trying), and the job’s got to take precedence—everybody understands that. We will re-schedule; the Museum Board meets in mid-July, and will decide when at that time. I’ve emphasized simply that it needs to be a Saturday, on the offchance I have a job out of town, and it can’t be during Garibaldi Days, because the band already has a gig.
In the meantime, there’s the album. The list of songs looks like this:
Dead Things in the Shower (mod. fast two-step)
Armadillo on the Interstate (slow & sleazy)
The Termite Song (fast bluegrass)
Tillamook Railroad Blues (slow, deliberate blues)
Free-Range Person (fast bluegrass)
No Good Songs About the War (mod. slow two-step)
Rotten Candy (fast bluegrass, with a Gospel beat)
Hey, Little Chicken (mod. slow almost blues)
Doing Battle with the Lawn (fast bluegrass)
Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues (slow & sleazy)
Un-Easy Street (mod. slow two-step)
Naked Space Hamsters in Love (fast bluegrass)
Two songs co-written with others (so Outside Services the Record Company will have to do the paying-royalties thing); two serious songs, too—twice as many as I’ve done on an album in the past. About half fast and half slow, the way I’d usually organize a concert setlist. (List above isn’t necessarily in order, though.)
The setlist is dictated at least in part by what the band know how to play; John (bass) and Dick (blues harp) have played all of them, and Chris (drummer) about half of them. John and chris come from heavy-metal backgrounds, and will inevitably put a rock ‘n’ roll spin on the bluegrass songs—and it works real well. For some of the songs, I can do an acceptable lead guitar, and we’ll overlay it; I want Wayne’s barroom-country guitar lead on some of the songs if I can get it. And one of the songs (either “Free-Range Person” or “Naked Space Hamsters in Love,” I think) I’d like to take down to southern Oregon with me, on the Tascam, and get some leads recorded by people I know there.
Plenty to do, even though there’s music only Friday night this week. Maybe we can get some recording in.
Joe
I have contacted a couple of folks down in southern Oregon, letting them know I’m going to be in the area, but I haven’t heard anything back. I probably need to contact more people I know—I know rather a lot of people down there. I’d like to spend a couple of days, play a lot of music, record “ancillary” lead tracks by three people to one song for the album, and maybe find out (since I’ll be down there) what, if anything, is going to happen to my application to be city planner in Phoenix, where I used to work.
Broke the bad news about the Garibaldi Museum gig to the Museum owners back East, and also to the band; I can’t do both the gig and the job interview at the same time (I have not mastered the knack of being in two places at once, though I keep trying), and the job’s got to take precedence—everybody understands that. We will re-schedule; the Museum Board meets in mid-July, and will decide when at that time. I’ve emphasized simply that it needs to be a Saturday, on the offchance I have a job out of town, and it can’t be during Garibaldi Days, because the band already has a gig.
In the meantime, there’s the album. The list of songs looks like this:
Dead Things in the Shower (mod. fast two-step)
Armadillo on the Interstate (slow & sleazy)
The Termite Song (fast bluegrass)
Tillamook Railroad Blues (slow, deliberate blues)
Free-Range Person (fast bluegrass)
No Good Songs About the War (mod. slow two-step)
Rotten Candy (fast bluegrass, with a Gospel beat)
Hey, Little Chicken (mod. slow almost blues)
Doing Battle with the Lawn (fast bluegrass)
Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues (slow & sleazy)
Un-Easy Street (mod. slow two-step)
Naked Space Hamsters in Love (fast bluegrass)
Two songs co-written with others (so Outside Services the Record Company will have to do the paying-royalties thing); two serious songs, too—twice as many as I’ve done on an album in the past. About half fast and half slow, the way I’d usually organize a concert setlist. (List above isn’t necessarily in order, though.)
The setlist is dictated at least in part by what the band know how to play; John (bass) and Dick (blues harp) have played all of them, and Chris (drummer) about half of them. John and chris come from heavy-metal backgrounds, and will inevitably put a rock ‘n’ roll spin on the bluegrass songs—and it works real well. For some of the songs, I can do an acceptable lead guitar, and we’ll overlay it; I want Wayne’s barroom-country guitar lead on some of the songs if I can get it. And one of the songs (either “Free-Range Person” or “Naked Space Hamsters in Love,” I think) I’d like to take down to southern Oregon with me, on the Tascam, and get some leads recorded by people I know there.
Plenty to do, even though there’s music only Friday night this week. Maybe we can get some recording in.
Joe
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