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10 september 2000
how to write music There's nothing quite like coming home at night to an empty apartment, twenty miles from the nearest city, with naught to look forward to save for "monday morning at the office." I've been so busy lately it seems I've forgotten to acknowledge how lonely I am. Is this something I should be complaining about? And while I crave companionship, I realize that this is a case of extreme "want," as opposed to "need," for if it was indeed "need," I'd be getting laid every night and most likely be feeling ten times more unfilfilled than I am right now. ~~~ Tonight I was supposed to work on "Shake," my new tune. I was to go over to Wamba's house and get this thing out of my head and onto tape ("tape" being the hard drive of Wamba's G3) -- Instead the evening turned into a full-out social event, as IceDog and girlfriend showed up and Wamba's roommate joined in the festivities. "Shake" remained unshook, for by the time we got around to booting up the computer, the alcohol and marijuana levels were such that nothing serious was going to get done. Instead, I sat at the keyboard for fifteen minutes and tried to actually _play_ the tune for Wamba, just so he could get the general vibe, for next-time's sake. And that turned out to be enough for me. It was the first time the song had left my mind and entered the atmosphere as soundwaves. On one level, I was incredibly disappointed. I couldn't sing it. Couldn't match the notes of my mind's voice. My own vocal cords just don't stretch like that, I guess. As I was remarking that maybe the whole thing was in the wrong key, I noticed Wamba bobbing his head and singing along, less than two minutes after he heard the melody. Which brings me to the next level. The good side. The melody itself is catchy as hell. The rap section, which is lyrically uncomposed, grooves like a muthafucka. Wamba was so excited about the whole thing that he already made plans for me to come back on wednesday and sunday to get this thing ready for the band to learn right after our next gig. Driving home, I couldn't get the tune out of my head ... more worrying that the whole thing was in the wrong key, out of my range, going over the placeholder chorus lyrics in my head ... "say-o-la-la, say-o-la-lay, i want u now, can't wait another day, i'd change 4 u, but i'm afraid to move, to understand, i can't shake ..." And then there's this whole stutter part on the word "shake" which scats on and on over a pregnant 2-5 into "i can't shake your groove" and then moves into a triplets over 4-time schizophrenia before resolving back into the latin-disco-rap verse via a machine-gun rattling snaredrum fill. I realized tonight, in those final four meaures, the key of the song changes twice. Wamba _got_ it. I'm just not sure if I can personally pull it off. My voice just ain't that good. Quitting smoking will help. Wednesday will tell. Shake. I can't shake. Shake it up baby. Just won't shake. Vanilla shake. What can't I shake, and why? Her groove. Ego boost for her, a hit song for me. Ha. Gotta learn to sing this baby... I'm gonna read some Clive Cussler now. Mindless drivel from the files of NUMA, incredibly entertaining, and a wonderful way to close my eyes, escaping this existence that leaves me so confused, if not unhappy, too busy to be lonely, feeling unfulfilled nonetheless. I welcome sleep, moreso than the prospect of a new day. In three days this website will be three years old. Does anyone give a shit? 10 september 1999: : didn't write 10 september 1998: oops : Deep down inside I was asking myself why they had to cross my lines with someone named "Marisa." At least if the phone rang and a sexy voice asked for Don Juan, I could have had a bit of fun. [ swim back | email me | swim ahead ] |
