Finally recorded a demo of Millicent. Straightforward doo-wop progression, with a tiny turn-around in the bridge. Using Sony Vegas: it does a much better job with the external mics, but it doesn't seem to be able to render 720p/HD.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Monday, May 09, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
A Round Tuit
The greatest gift is time
To do with as you will
And fill it as you would
If you could be
Completely free.
And you ever
Found the time
To get
Around to it.
To do with as you will
And fill it as you would
If you could be
Completely free.
And you ever
Found the time
To get
Around to it.
Phone Voice
Don't you talk to me with your phone voice, honey
Save it for your customer calls
It makes you come off like such a phoney, honey
Like the world is hanging from your balls
And if you really want to get your hands in my pants
You'd be better off speaking Chinese
Be my Wisconsin tenor, baby
Your voice doesn't need to be that deep
I hate those deep dark English sounds
But your Chinese really speaks to me
I'm the Tiger mother to your daughters, baby
The dutiful wife who cooks you Chinese food
Just talk to me in your real voice baby
Because I fell in love with a Wisconsin tenor
And that's the voice that puts me in the mood
Save it for your customer calls
It makes you come off like such a phoney, honey
Like the world is hanging from your balls
And if you really want to get your hands in my pants
You'd be better off speaking Chinese
Be my Wisconsin tenor, baby
Your voice doesn't need to be that deep
I hate those deep dark English sounds
But your Chinese really speaks to me
I'm the Tiger mother to your daughters, baby
The dutiful wife who cooks you Chinese food
Just talk to me in your real voice baby
Because I fell in love with a Wisconsin tenor
And that's the voice that puts me in the mood
Be Prepared
Courtney was a painter
And a sometime figure model
Who liked to read Cervantes
And used a pair of chopsticks
To roll her hair into a bun
She lived out with her single mom
On the darker side of town
Her mom worked nights as a bartender
And sold a little weed on the side
Bobby was an Eagle Scout
Who liked to follow rules
His social clique were awkward boys
His mom and dad were awful proud
Courtney had decided
She was going to go to Bonnaroo
Get a week long pass
And camp out on the grass
She could have taken anyone
But she said Bobby Smith's the one
Cause he's a Boy Scout and they're always prepared
So Bobby packed his lean-to
And a pair of sleeping bags
His scout knife and some water
And a camp stove just in case
They hitchhiked down to Bonnaroo
Set up their tent and caught the shows
Danced in the mud and partied with strangers
Went back to the tent under the full moon
She climbed into his sleeping bag
Caught him by surprise
He said "I've never done this before"
She said "I'm not surprised"
She took a packet
From her pocket
And rolled it down his shaft
"If you don't come prepared, you won't come at all
And a Boy Scout should always be prepared"
They dated all through college
Got married in grad school
Bobby loosened up
Even if he never became cool
They still go out to festivals
And camp under the stars
Climb in the double sleeping bag
And do what couples do
And she says
"Back at school you were a dork
But when you put those drops of honey
On my plastic camping spork
I knew you were the one for me"
And a sometime figure model
Who liked to read Cervantes
And used a pair of chopsticks
To roll her hair into a bun
She lived out with her single mom
On the darker side of town
Her mom worked nights as a bartender
And sold a little weed on the side
Bobby was an Eagle Scout
Who liked to follow rules
His social clique were awkward boys
His mom and dad were awful proud
Courtney had decided
She was going to go to Bonnaroo
Get a week long pass
And camp out on the grass
She could have taken anyone
But she said Bobby Smith's the one
Cause he's a Boy Scout and they're always prepared
So Bobby packed his lean-to
And a pair of sleeping bags
His scout knife and some water
And a camp stove just in case
They hitchhiked down to Bonnaroo
Set up their tent and caught the shows
Danced in the mud and partied with strangers
Went back to the tent under the full moon
She climbed into his sleeping bag
Caught him by surprise
He said "I've never done this before"
She said "I'm not surprised"
She took a packet
From her pocket
And rolled it down his shaft
"If you don't come prepared, you won't come at all
And a Boy Scout should always be prepared"
They dated all through college
Got married in grad school
Bobby loosened up
Even if he never became cool
They still go out to festivals
And camp under the stars
Climb in the double sleeping bag
And do what couples do
And she says
"Back at school you were a dork
But when you put those drops of honey
On my plastic camping spork
I knew you were the one for me"
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Fragments
A song about one of my co-workers
Don't you talk to me with your phone voice, honey
Save it for your customer calls
It makes you come off like such a phoney, honey
???
And if you really want to get your hands in my pants
You'd be better off speaking Chinese
A song about marital discontent
Can I tell you
That when you
It really made me feel sad
etc.
A song about a high school girl who takes a Boy Scout to Bonnaroo because he will be better prepared to handle the requirements of camping
Back at school you're a dork
But you put those drops of honey
On my plastic camping spork
Don't you talk to me with your phone voice, honey
Save it for your customer calls
It makes you come off like such a phoney, honey
???
And if you really want to get your hands in my pants
You'd be better off speaking Chinese
A song about marital discontent
Can I tell you
That when you
It really made me feel sad
etc.
A song about a high school girl who takes a Boy Scout to Bonnaroo because he will be better prepared to handle the requirements of camping
Back at school you're a dork
But you put those drops of honey
On my plastic camping spork
Monday, April 11, 2011
Bernadette
The Holland/Dozier/Holland song. The bass part is not harmonically complex, but hitting all the grace notes and articulating the arpeggios was very challenging. The guitar part turned into a 4/4 funk groove instead of the original 2/4 backbeat groove. I couldn't decide which drum track I liked better, so I kept them both.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Midtown Manhattan on a Saturday Night
A martial snare plays rat a tat tat
On the marital rhythm of tit for tat
But now the tux and the gown are all packed in a bag
And they're off to Manhattan for a Saturday night.
An expensive dinner and a cab downtown
To a basement in Alphabet City
Jazz, funk and rhythm and blues
With a modern sensibility
The dance floor is packed with the lust and sweat
Of familiar possibility
Slinking through the darkened lobby
Empty bottles of water from the minibar
The mirror reflects on the king size bed
She stands on her head
With legs spread wide
Like an apple tree weighted with fruit
The kick drum plays thump a thump thump
On the quick deep strokes of an oft postponed fuck
In Midtown Manhattan on a Saturday night
Terry cloth robes and a room service breakfast
The sun through the curtains above Hackensack
While he reads the paper she looks in the mirror
And it seems like her wrinkles are written in black
But she turns into the room and looks hard at the roses
And says "there's time for a quick one before we have to pack
And get back
From Midtown Manhattan and our Saturday night".
On the marital rhythm of tit for tat
But now the tux and the gown are all packed in a bag
And they're off to Manhattan for a Saturday night.
An expensive dinner and a cab downtown
To a basement in Alphabet City
Jazz, funk and rhythm and blues
With a modern sensibility
The dance floor is packed with the lust and sweat
Of familiar possibility
Slinking through the darkened lobby
Empty bottles of water from the minibar
The mirror reflects on the king size bed
She stands on her head
With legs spread wide
Like an apple tree weighted with fruit
The kick drum plays thump a thump thump
On the quick deep strokes of an oft postponed fuck
In Midtown Manhattan on a Saturday night
Terry cloth robes and a room service breakfast
The sun through the curtains above Hackensack
While he reads the paper she looks in the mirror
And it seems like her wrinkles are written in black
But she turns into the room and looks hard at the roses
And says "there's time for a quick one before we have to pack
And get back
From Midtown Manhattan and our Saturday night".
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Modern Science
Late one night, a man is standing under a streetlamp, looking at the ground. Another man comes by and asks him what he is doing. The first man replies “I'm looking for my keys”. The second man starts to help with the search, and asks “where did you lose them?”. The first man replies “in the bushes, down there”. Annoyed, the second man asks “but, then why are you looking here”? To which the first man replies “well, this is where the light is”.
We started off
Trying to design a new drug
Which would treat a common illness
In a novel and exciting way.
But drug development
Is a long and expensive process.
And when we suffered a setback
In our second round of clinical trials
Our investors had grown tired of the game.
So we decided to sell a tool
(To allow researchers
To design new drugs
Which might treat common illnesses
In a novel and exciting way).
This approach
Promised reduced marketing costs
And a shorter path to profitability.
Our investors were rejuvenated
And ready to get back in the game.
I went to go visit
A lab that used our tool
To design some knockout mice.
Their hypothesis is novel and the theory exciting.
They hope to start clinical trials
By the middle of next year.
The only problem is that the mice
Refuse to breed or even coexist.
Inside the cages they attack one another
Hacking off mouthfuls of raw flesh and fur
Till they have eaten each other alive.
We started off
Trying to design a new drug
Which would treat a common illness
In a novel and exciting way.
But drug development
Is a long and expensive process.
And when we suffered a setback
In our second round of clinical trials
Our investors had grown tired of the game.
So we decided to sell a tool
(To allow researchers
To design new drugs
Which might treat common illnesses
In a novel and exciting way).
This approach
Promised reduced marketing costs
And a shorter path to profitability.
Our investors were rejuvenated
And ready to get back in the game.
I went to go visit
A lab that used our tool
To design some knockout mice.
Their hypothesis is novel and the theory exciting.
They hope to start clinical trials
By the middle of next year.
The only problem is that the mice
Refuse to breed or even coexist.
Inside the cages they attack one another
Hacking off mouthfuls of raw flesh and fur
Till they have eaten each other alive.
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Lead Sheets
I spent some time dinking around with Band-In-A-Box today, and finally got it to print out a lead sheet. Woot.
I spent some time dinking around with Band-In-A-Box today, and finally got it to print out a lead sheet. Woot.
I spent some time dinking around with Band-In-A-Box today, and finally got it to print out a lead sheet. Woot.
An Economic Melodrama
It was the 80's. I was reading a lot of Raymond Carver.
“I can't pay the rent” she said.
I'd been sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a beer, before Deb came in.
“Um” I swallowed. “When do you get paid?”
“Next Friday. Where did you get the beer?”
“Fridge”
I watched her bend in the trapezoid of light flowing out of the open refrigerator door. She looked thin. The fruit in the crisper looked pretty rotten.
“What happened to the TV?”
Deb was looking for a bottle opener. “Finally threw it away. I was going deaf from having to turn the volume so high over the static.”
“Use your teeth”
“What?”
“How I opened mine”
“No, I found it.” She came back into the kitchen, her longneck smoking just like the advertisements on Monday Night Football. She took her pocketbook off the table and lit a cigarette. Ultralights. Sounds like airplanes. I fidget with the matchbook. It was from some bar on the North Side. O'Flannery's. There was a phone number written on the inside cover. I closed the flap.
Deb went to the other side of the room, by the sink, and ashed on a pile of dirty glasses.
“Been to Jimmy's Bar lately?”
“Every Thursday night. It's work.”
The tobacco embers hissed in the dregs of a wine glass.
“You always hated doing the dishes”
“Still do”
I went to the refrigerator. I took the fourth of the six pack I had brought. Then I looked around in the crisper, searching for the least rotten apple. I found one, on the bottom, not quite so bad as the rest. I opened my beer and went back into the kitchen.
It was awkward, silent. Deb smoked.
“So Deb, how have you been?”
“Okay. Fucking job sucks. I don't know. What have you been up to?”
“The usual, I guess. Wanna go out and have a drink someplace?”
She looked at my hand. “You've already got one.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.”
Deb lit another cigarette.
“What I really came over here tonight … well … I need a place to stay for a while.”
“Can you help me with the rent?”
“Yeah, I think so. Play a few more bars.”
“Old habits die hard.”
“I can't pay the rent” she said.
I'd been sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a beer, before Deb came in.
“Um” I swallowed. “When do you get paid?”
“Next Friday. Where did you get the beer?”
“Fridge”
I watched her bend in the trapezoid of light flowing out of the open refrigerator door. She looked thin. The fruit in the crisper looked pretty rotten.
“What happened to the TV?”
Deb was looking for a bottle opener. “Finally threw it away. I was going deaf from having to turn the volume so high over the static.”
“Use your teeth”
“What?”
“How I opened mine”
“No, I found it.” She came back into the kitchen, her longneck smoking just like the advertisements on Monday Night Football. She took her pocketbook off the table and lit a cigarette. Ultralights. Sounds like airplanes. I fidget with the matchbook. It was from some bar on the North Side. O'Flannery's. There was a phone number written on the inside cover. I closed the flap.
Deb went to the other side of the room, by the sink, and ashed on a pile of dirty glasses.
“Been to Jimmy's Bar lately?”
“Every Thursday night. It's work.”
The tobacco embers hissed in the dregs of a wine glass.
“You always hated doing the dishes”
“Still do”
I went to the refrigerator. I took the fourth of the six pack I had brought. Then I looked around in the crisper, searching for the least rotten apple. I found one, on the bottom, not quite so bad as the rest. I opened my beer and went back into the kitchen.
It was awkward, silent. Deb smoked.
“So Deb, how have you been?”
“Okay. Fucking job sucks. I don't know. What have you been up to?”
“The usual, I guess. Wanna go out and have a drink someplace?”
She looked at my hand. “You've already got one.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.”
Deb lit another cigarette.
“What I really came over here tonight … well … I need a place to stay for a while.”
“Can you help me with the rent?”
“Yeah, I think so. Play a few more bars.”
“Old habits die hard.”
Friday, February 11, 2011
The Strings Of Our Genes
An original which I hadn't recorded before. Still not happy with the webcam microphone.
Chords and lyrics
Bm7 Em9
A7 Dmaj7
C#m7 F#7
Bm7 Am7 G F#
Em7 A7 D
---
Bm7 G A
I try to be calm
In the face of your rage
Your grandmother's face
Your grandfather's rage
Pulls you out of your seat
A dancing marionette
Tied to the strings of your genes.
The stone and the sod
Whiskey and God
Run from the law
Sleep in the straw
Pulls you onto your feet
A dancing marionette
Tied to the strings of your genes.
I curse you to never feel satisfaction
To see injustice in all of its forms
I bless you with strength
Quickness of mind and
A hurting desire to learn.
I curse you to be unable to follow
This curse and these gifts I give to you
Because I carry them too.
We're dancing marionettes
Tied to the strings of our genes.
Chords and lyrics
Bm7 Em9
A7 Dmaj7
C#m7 F#7
Bm7 Am7 G F#
Em7 A7 D
---
Bm7 G A
I try to be calm
In the face of your rage
Your grandmother's face
Your grandfather's rage
Pulls you out of your seat
A dancing marionette
Tied to the strings of your genes.
The stone and the sod
Whiskey and God
Run from the law
Sleep in the straw
Pulls you onto your feet
A dancing marionette
Tied to the strings of your genes.
I curse you to never feel satisfaction
To see injustice in all of its forms
I bless you with strength
Quickness of mind and
A hurting desire to learn.
I curse you to be unable to follow
This curse and these gifts I give to you
Because I carry them too.
We're dancing marionettes
Tied to the strings of our genes.
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Something Light
Give us something light, love
To lift us on our way
A melody to sing or hum
Some warmth on a winter's day
Everything is not your life or love
Or death or a family dispute
Our time is spent mostly working or sleeping
Or shuttling between the two
So give us something light, love
Because I've got my dark places too
But to make time pass more pleasantly
I don't always share them with you.
So give us something light, love
To lift us on our way
A melody to sing or hum
Some warmth on a winter's day
To lift us on our way
A melody to sing or hum
Some warmth on a winter's day
Everything is not your life or love
Or death or a family dispute
Our time is spent mostly working or sleeping
Or shuttling between the two
So give us something light, love
Because I've got my dark places too
But to make time pass more pleasantly
I don't always share them with you.
So give us something light, love
To lift us on our way
A melody to sing or hum
Some warmth on a winter's day
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