MORE THOUGHTS ON THE SOUTHERN PIGFISH ALBUM...

A couple ideas, before I forget them… I know, I think, how to record the Southern Pigfish album. I can do it at Jim’s shop! What I need for recording The Band That Doesn’t Exist is a band that doesn’t exist. He’s got one—or at least the musicians that could pretend to be one. And I’ve heard them all—even heard them playing together—and they’re pretty good. Since they’re not a band (most of the time), they can record their tracks separately—which is how Jim does it anyway. What’s necessary for each of those songs is for me to record “base” tracks—rhythm guitar and lead vocal—for each song, and then let Jim add at his leisure “layer” other things as he sees fit. I’d want to make sure each song has bass and drums, because Southern Pigfish is supposed to be a rock ‘n’ roll band; no need to be specific about the lead instrument(s), but it’d be good to have both a “whiny” lead (fiddle, harmonica, flute, &c.) and a “non-whiny” lead (guitar, keyboard, &c.) because I like arranging things that way. It’s okay if the playing isn’t top-notch professional (though most of the musicians Jim knows are quite good—I know most of them, too)—Southern Pigfish are supposed to be a bunch of amateurs. And the songs? The political songs, of course: For Their Own Ends (the “title cut”) Love Trails of the Zombie Snails Vampire Roumanian Babies The Strange Saga of Quoth, the Parrot 50 Ways to Cure the Depression All those are folk-rock. I could add a few others: Test Tube Baby—rock ‘n’ roll Born Again Barbie—rockabilly Gospel The Resurrection Blues—fast blues Angel In Chains—country death metal The Dead Sweethearts Polka—deliberate polka (or fast bluegrass) Last four of those were intended to be on the 13 Reasons Why Joe Is Going to Hell album. They still can (though they should be re-recorded with different musicians). Everything on the list is very non-country—as befitting a rock band. Could use a couple more to fill it out—emphasizing the original mantra, from Southern Pigfish’s famous first “live” recording (done by me, with me playing all the parts): “politically charged Arkansas bluegrass hip-hop sea chanties.” And the videos? All the Southern Pigfish songs were supposed to be videos. Unless the musicians (or most of them) are going to be playing somewhere together, I can’t film them as a group. However I could get footage of each of them recording in the shop, and mix clips together. I have seen videos done like that. My vocals, of course—but I don’t want me on screen. I did say in that original “live” recording that Southern Pigfish had a girl singer, who sounded “like Bob Dylan after the operation.” I’d like to find a female person—one who isn’t regularly performing, and isn’t trying to make a name for herself as a singer—to lip-synch the songs while I film her. I do know a couple of people who might be interested and I’ll have to ask them. A couple of the Southern Pigfish songs require “location” shots. I decided “The Dead Sweethearts Polka” can be mostly shot on the banks of the Nehalem River; “Quoth,” mostly on the beach at Twin Rocks, with a little bit in front of the Ghost Hole Tavern or Garibaldi Pub; and the “Zombie Snails” song really should have snow (and that means driving somewhere ‘cause we don’t get snow here to speak of—and certainly not in Antarctic proportions). “Born Again Barbie,” of course, I had already scripted out as a variety of stop-motion animation (and I have the Barbies for “cast” out in the garage), and “50 Ways” actually already has an excellent “French style” video—I just need to substitute the new soundtrack, if that’s possible. Don’t need live actors for either of those. Y’know, this could be a lot of fun… Joe

UPDATES...

Well, I knew it was going to happen—like Murphy’s Third Law says, “Peanut butter sandwiches always land peanut butter side down.” Four people can run the front desk at the hotel so long as nobody gets sick. So somebody got sick, right? And I got to work 12 hours straight after my traditional Day-of-No- Sleep-and-I-Got-Up-Early-Because-I-Had-Things-to-Do. Thought I’d have to do it again (she’s still sick) but I actually got to go to work two hours late the next night because I’d stayed an extra two hours the morning before, and I actually felt energetic after only five hours’ sleep. I have mastered, I believe, another singing call—this one an old Merle Haggard tune. Choreography for the intro, outro, and middle that I got along with the old 45-rpm record was okay, but the “figure” where you’re moving the dancers around and making them shift places didn’t seem to have enough movement in it. (You never want your dancers to be standing around with nothing to do. You don’t want them to have to hurry—but you want them constantly moving.) So I substituted some choreography from instructor Daryl’s “Safe Singing Calls” list, and it works. I can mostly remember it and I think square dancers will be able to handle it just fine. (Me, too.) I’ll probably be trying it out on a live audience for the first time at Saturday night’s square dance—no chance to practice with my guinea pigs before then. Posters are done for two Dylan “reprise” shows at the North County Recreation District auditorium, June 30 and July 7. Latter date is a problem—it’s the weekend of the Relay for Life, which is supposed to last 24 hours, and I’m the Entertainment Guy. So not only I (with Coaster) but a mess of the performers I’d enlisted for the Relay can’t play Saturday evening ‘cause they now have a gig. The posters came out nice, though; I used a Dylanesque photo of Jim (from the posters for his Dylan show at The Mercantile) which looks almost like a Bob Dylan album cover, plus one I took of “Dylan” performing with His Big Band (bass, drums, keyboard, lead guitar, blues harp, tambourine and kazoo). Coaster has practiced, too, of course—and I think the band is going to sound good. Having Clint on the big bass adds a lot. We have to practice for our June 29 show at the 2nd Street Market, too, and it’d be tempting to add our best Dylan covers to the Market setlist, since we alread know how to play them: “Absolutely Sweet Marie” and “When the Ship Comes In” (sung by me) and “Don’t Think Twice It’s All Right (sung by Ken). And in the course of poster production, my old Lexmark printer finally gave up the ghost. (It is something like 8 or 9 years old. That’s really old in printer years.) On the one hand, I appreciate the printer waiting to die until I had an income, small though it be (my truck has a habit of doing that, too)—but on the other hand, it could have waited longer. I’ve asked Jane (who owns an office-supply store as well as playing a mean fiddle) to find me a replacement. I almost forgot! There’s a puppet show to produce, too—contract has been sent off to the county library to pay the Arts Center for putting on Jedi Pigs of Oz. I need to finish the poster (I’ve found some “movie credits” fonts for adding the actors’ names, so it’ll really look like a 1930s Wizard of Oz movie poster), enlist teenager Croix to be the voice of Luke, Chewy and Glyn-the-Good-Witch-Trapped-in-a-Balloon (he was a hit as Chewy last time) and practice. This one will take a bit more practice because the script is probably half an hour long. Oh, and record the closing-credits song, too. Yup, no shortage of things to do. Joe

CHORUS DIFFERENT FROM VERSES?

More songwriting tips, this time from the folks who run SongU. They emphasize the importance of contrast—in their case between verse and chorus, but really it’s possible to take it a lot further. Yes, you can have a different number of beats, and/or a different chord progression in your chorus; there are a couple of John Prine songs where he even made the verses a waltz and the chorus a two-step (and one where he reversed it, and made the verses a two-step and the chorus a waltz). You can play with the lyrics, too. I’ve got a few songs where the chorus talks about something different than the verses, and then ties it together in the last line—“I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas” is the classic, but “Duct Tape” and “Always Pet the Dogs” do it, too. “Bungee Jumpin’ Jesus” does the contrast thing with the music, while still keeping it classic Gospel (I used to think it was pretty subtle, but I’m no longer sure—everybody seems to recognize that “signature” riff at the beginning of the chorus that’s from the “What a Friend…” song). But do you have to do this all the time? Heck, no! The rule I’ve tried to follow (using the term “rule” loosely, of course) I ran across in some “Rules for Writing Congregational Music,” on the Muse’s Muse Website. (A lot of overtly religious writers hang out there.) Their point was you want the chorus to sing differently if you want the congregation to sing along; the slightly different music signals the congregation that the chorus is about to start. They also argue that the chorus music shouldn’t be a lot different from that of the verses, because you want the congregation to be familiar enough with the music so they can sing along. And if you don’t—if you’re expecting your congregation to just listen—you don’t need to worry about it. That advice works with any audience, not just a church congregation. And I do apply that rule—religiously, y’might say. If I think people are going to want to sing along with the chorus, I’ll make the chorus start differently, to signal them. Otherwise, I don’t bother. I have a number of songs where the verses and chorus have the same chord progression and same number of beats (and a lot of writers way more famous than I am do exactly the same). Sometimes I guess wrong: “Hank’s Song” inevitably gets an audience singing, and so does “Can I Have Your Car When the Rapture Comes?” In both cases, the chorus and verse music is identical. Does it matter? Maybe not so much. I try to incorporate two other “rules,” too. (1) I want to be predictable, because I want other people to be able to play along when they’re hearing the song for the first time. I used to “do” a lot of jam sessions before I was employed, and still hope to do so again. So I try to have chord (&c.) changes be logical, and happen at logical places, and like a good rhythm guitarist (following my role model John Lennon) I try to signal when changes are coming so people can follow them easier. And simultaneously, (2) I want every song to sound different—not only from other songs I’ve written but from songs other people have written. That’s difficult in country music—but challenges are good, right? And of 80 or so songs, I have only a few that I can’t play next to each other because they sound the same. Music at the Tillamook Library may not start up again until September, I was told today. This week, I may not get to play music at all unless I get to record songs at Jim’s shop--Friday night we’re going to a play, and Saturday night is the square dance, and I am working every other night this week. Gack. Joe

REINVENTION IN PROGRESS (MAYBE)...

Got my rejection e-mail from the City of Damascus, that revenue-strapped, conflict-ridden new city on the outskirts of Portland—and it didn’t bother me. I know I’m the best person for the job—nobody else has quite as thick a skin—but I’ll happily send them the requisite “best of luck on the path you have chosen” thank-you letter. Waiting on two more, that I’m almost certain will be rejections, too; it’s been way too long since applications closed. And again, it’s okay. I think I have finally succeeded in reinventing myself. I have a job—not being a city manager—and derive tremendous satisfaction from knowing somebody thinks it’s worth paying me money to do something. (Healthiest job I’ve had in over 40 years, too. I really like that.) I’m kind of a fixture in the community, in a little bit of demand as a musician, can spit out contracts, posters and the like on short demand, know enough financial and planning stuff to be sought out occasionally for advice, and I’m going to be a square dance caller. And the house in Cascade Locks will hopefully get a new (and profitable) life as a vacation rental. I’m comfortable with all of it. I got to try out both of my singing calls and some “patter” on a group of experienced dancers for a change Wednesday night; instead of the newbies, we had an extra couple who were visitng from Arizona. I could tell they were enjoying themselves (and everything I did worked just about perfect). So I’m expanding my repertoire. I got from another caller in Daryl’s class six hoedowns (that’s what they call the instrumentals callers do “patter” to) and three singing calls. (They were on old 45-rpm records: the newest dates from the 1970s, some are from the ‘50s, and one’s a lot older than that.) The music is all on “Lazarus” the laptop now, and I’ve been practicing. I have one of the singing calls—a Waylon Jennings song—pretty much down already. It’s probably going to be the most conventional song I do. If I have a style at this calling stuff, it probably leans to off-the-wall traditional-sounding country—my other two singing calls are the Hee-Haw theme “Gloom, Despair and Agony on Me” and one of mine, “Valvoline.” And for a hoedown, I’ve been using the music from “Rubber Dolly,” one of the songs Woody Guthrie wrote for his daughter when she was little. . Need to get the repertoire expanded and practiced because I’ve been told I’ll be doing relief breaks for Harvey Hunsucker when he calls the square dance June 9, and for caller/cuer George Clark when he does a dance here August 11. I probably need eight numbers (square dance callers traditionally do two at a time) in order to give Harvey and George a decent set of breaks in their 2-1/2 hour shows. Did our first read-through of the puppet show drama Jedi Pigs of Oz with Karen; some minor adjustments necessary to the script—we have three puppeteers doing seven voices and it’s important to not have the same puppeteer’s voices having a conversation with each other. It is, I think, the best puppet show yet (it’s also the longest—about half an hour, including the song at the end). Figured out how to do a professional sound, too. I have the closing-credits song for the play still to record—this one’s a ragtimey over-the-top commercial for Hansolo’s wizard services “on Laneda Avenue”—and I’d like to do that at Jim’s shop if he’s willing, rather than on the Tascam. (That way, I can have real musicians playing lead, bass, drums and blues harp.) I’ve got a couple more songs I’d like to record there, too, as soon as he has time: “In the Shadows, I’ll Be Watching You” and “Song for Charity (and Faith, and Hope).” 2nd Street Market wants Coaster back June 29, and there’s going to be a reprise of the Dylan Night show at NCRD in Nehalem on June 22 and June 30. Yes, it’s getting busy. Joe

SAYONARA, THIRSTY LION (&C.)...

Yes, “Syonara at the Thirsty Lion” went well—all the performances have been going well lately. Audience liked all the songs—I enjoy keeping people in stitches—even though most of them were there as fans of other performers (and of course voted for them—doesn’t matter). I got to do two encores, too (a good reason to be last on the agenda)—“I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas” (because both Eric and my daughter requested it) and “Pole Dancing for Jesus.” Didn’t sell any CDs, but did trade one with another performer. Daughter and her friend Kristine were only going to stay for one song, but ended up staying for the entire performance, which was nice. Best song? “I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas” is an instant and consistent crowd-pleaser, of course, but the other one people remarked on was “The Resurrection Blues.” I was asked if I have songs on iTunes. I don’t. Maybe I should. Met a lady there who wants to collaborate. We’ll see. We talked for quite a while after the performance, and I have a fair idea of her musical tastes (a lot like mine, minus the country music), but I still havent heard stuff that she’s done. (Gave her a business card—always have business cards—so she can contact me.) She says she has a good singing voice, with about a 3-octave range, and is interested in doing harmonies on some of my songs. That’s definitely doable. In fact, I could think of half a dozen songs where I’d rather have her singing than me. “Rotten Candy” was meant to be sung by a girl; so was “Dead Things in the Shower” and “When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You” (though that latter is deliberately androgynous and can really be sung by either a guy or a girl). “I Want a Man for Christmas,” too, is a girl’s song, and so is “Invitation to St. Patrick.” Of the musications, April Mattson Johns’ “Family Portrait” needs a girl singer, too. So there’s some stuff to do that might be a good test. Last four of those need to be re-recorded anyway—the recordings I have were done on the Tascam with me singing and playing rhythm, lead and bass, and one might say I got what I paid for. I’ll use Jim Loughrie’s shop studio if I can; he’s gotten rather good. His latest recording, of one of his songs sung by Sedona Marie (with Sedona playing flute, Jane fiddle, Ken lead guitar, Jim himself on drums, and Michael Dinan doing harmony, is (as Craig Imm, the Dodson Drifters’ sound engineer, used to put it) “tasty.” Recorded base tracks (rhythm guitar and vocal) today at Jim’s shop for “Sleepover at My House.” I still don’t know if it’s a good song—it hasn’t been tried out yet on a live audience—but I had to get it out of my head so I could work on something else. Like I told Jim, it was either his place or mine—and if it was recorded at his place, he could maybe do things with it. (He thinks it needs a kazoo lead. He thinks a lot of my songs need a kazoo lead.) Thoughts on collaboration: Full-blown collaboration (as opposed to the “one-night stand” variety where I’m just musicating someone else’s lyrics) is a daunting prospect, because you’re rummaging around inside each other’s heads. I have done it four times and two of those resulted in a (my opinion) decent product—“Dead Things in the Shower” (co-wrote with Bobbie Gallup) and “Born Again Barbie” (with Scott Rose). Those two plus “Drag Them Suckers In” were done long-distance, by e-mail, and I think I’d really rather do it that way—gives me more time to think (in case I need it—I may not). Doing it in person (which is how the abovementioned lady would like to do it) feels a little too immediate and rushed. I realize that’s how the professionals in Nashville do it, but I’m not them (and I’m also not very impressed with most of their product). And of course, history may enter into the reluctance, too. The only collaboration I’ve ever done in person was with the late Jeff Tanzer, who was lead guitarist for the Dodson Drifters; we wrote “Ballad of Mount St. Helens” together, after the mountain erupted in 1980 (it was for a contest), and the band recorded it and we sent off a tape (that’s how it was done back then). We didn’t win. Jeff and I usually wrote in competition with each other, like Lennon and McCartney, and the products were uniformly better done that way. (Also like Lennon and McCartney, we didn’t say who wrote what. And we had a habit of performing each other’s songs.) Joe

SOMEBODY'S RULES FOR LYRIC WRITING...

I ran across another “rules for writing” article. I’m always interested in those: I want to know if I’m “doing it right”—but I also tend to critique what they’re saying. So many of the rule-propounders claim, “Do what I do, and you’ll be a success” and this one was no exception. The rules in this case were for writing LYRICS, which is of particular interest to me since words is what I do. Because I have a limited voice range, am not particularly good on the guitar and am still mostly tone-deaf, I consider the music simply a delivery mechanism for the words. Here’s the rules: 1. Come up with a great title. People often say my titles are good. I think that’s an argument for letting the audience tell you what the title is. I rarely identify a song by title—I want to see what other people call it when they request it. And they’ve come up with some good titles. 2. Be specific. Particularly applicable to country music, which is what I write. No matter how high-falutin’ the message, it’s got to be expressed in terms of real (though not necessarily believable) things happening to real people. 3. It’s the music, stupid. Good melodies, in other words. I think I end up being distinctive because I insist every song sound different. 4. Writing is re-writing. Yes, but I’ll do most of my re-writing before I ever write anything down. I also insist on outside input—one shouldn’t write in a vacuum. (Poor lighting in a vacuum.) 5. What you say counts. They’re saying “be different” and I agree. Be saying either something new or something old in a new way. That’s where the dead animals come in. If you’re expressing it in terms of roadkill you are probably saying something different. 6. Step away from your piano or guitar. I never pick up the guitar until after I have the lyrics and melody all worked out. Most of my writing takes place in situations where I not only can’t use a guitar, I can’t even use a pen—so I have to memorize everything. 7. A song is not a poem. Sometimes it is. I’ve set Edgar Allen Poe and Dr. Seuss (and lesser-known poets, too) to music. “Oral tradition” stuff—poetry meant to be performed, not read—can be musicated easily because it has a beat, rhymes frequently, and has repeating parts. 8. Your lyrics must sing. “Poesy,” in other words. I regularly adjust lyrics so they’ll “sing good.” Doesn’t mean melodies have to be appropriate to the lyrics—sometimes dissonance is good. I like my songs about death to be upbeat and happy-sounding, for example. 9. Need I repeat—repetition works. Because modern pop music does it? Lots of repetition is not necessary to get people to remember a song. In “When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You,” the hook occurs only four times in nine chorus-less verses. It’s still memorable. 10. Know your genre. I have done that. Nashville particularly is rife with rules about how you’re supposed to write, and I mostly ignore them (just like most successful writers of country music do). I do follow a mantra I learned from a newspaper editor I worked for: “You have to know the rules before you can break them effectively.” So… I’m doing all that (mostly—with a couple exceptions those are good rules), but the music industry still has not beat a path to my door (and realistically is unlikely to). “Do this and you’ll be successful” probably isn’t true. Promotion and name familiarity enters into the picture a lot, too, I think—and I’m still far from being a household word. (“Toilet paper” is more of a household word than I am.) The above rules may make one a better writer but they do not make you a more famous one. Joe

WORKIN' MAN BLUES (OR IS THAT A TWO-STEP?)...

Just a list of things to do, while I rest. The job is tiring, and I have been sleeping a lot—which I shouldn’t: I have way too much to do, and just reduced by a third (by getting a job) the time available to do it in. (Got to start setting an alarm clock again.) On the plus side, I’ve been paid twice, and next month’s mortgage payment is covered, and I managed to afford new tires for the old truck, too. Backscratcherz has “Justin,” the giant computer I bought last summer that has a defunct processor, and with luck I’ll have him working soon (and not too expensively). “Justin” was custom built (for someone else) for online gaming, and has tons of RAM and speed, and is probably ideal for both my music and my graphic-design work. And that’ll free up “Lazarus” the laptop to mostly do just square dance calling (before I fill up his hard drive with other stuff). I am slowly working down the list of things I said I’d do once I had a job. Ran a couple of errands today before work: I needed to make sure the Arts Center is available Wednesday night for square dance caller practice before work, I needed to make sure whether a PA system Charlie set up will work for the Tillamook Estuaries Partnership’s “Bounty on the Bay” event next weekend, and I needed to go see Victor in Rockaway about a band for the Rocktoberfest. And yes, it was nice to be doing something that wasn’t work. Makes me feel I still have a life. The gig at the Thirsty Lion Tuesday night will help, too. Tuesday, I collect the information for my column, then head for Portland to my last square dance caller class, and then to the Thirsty Lion for the gig. Grocery shopping, too, and I want to see the vacation rental guy—he hasn’t answered my e-mails. Wednesday, office hours at the Arts Center, record the base tracks for “Sleepover at My House” at Jim’s shop (which I didn’t do last week), and caller practice with my guinea pigs before I go to work. Thursday before work I’d like to try a one-on-one marimba practice with Larry (he’s offered—and I haven’t been able to make the Sunday afternoon practices for almost a month, because I’ve been working). I’m assuming my schedule will default ultimately to three swing shifts and two graveyards (what the person preceded me was doing before she quit and they hired me), with just Fridays and Saturdays off. I would like the occasional Monday off, to attend Planning Commission meetings (since I’m on the P.C.) and to cover City Council meetings for the paper (extra money, there); if I had every Monday off, I’d spend the remaining ones at that new jam session at Kelley’s Place, the newest tavern in town. If the graveyard shifts start starting at 11 p.m. instead of 9 p.m., it’d make square dance caller practice on Wednesday nights easier (and on alternate Wednesdays, I could practice with the band), and on Thursday nights I’d be able to sit in for a little bit with the musicians at the Tsunami in Wheeler (once the new Tsunami opens—it’s not open yet). All that is probably in the future; things have not settled down schedule-wise yet. Biggest casualty of the Working Man Syndrome is being unable to just go play music for fun, which I used to be able to do five nights of the week if I wanted (and I usually wanted). I am now working every single one of those nights. On the plus side, I am grateful to have Saturdays off (and am glad I planned every gig this summer to be on a Saturday). It’s really not much different from two years ago, when I was working full-time out of town and only got to come home on weekends. The frustrating part is simply that I’m in town, this time, and get to see all that stuff happening around me. I expect I’ll get over it. I like the job too much. Joe