I have not been writing songs much. Maybe 4 a year if I am lucky. But the way it works is pretty simple; enough time goes by to where I get to the point of bursting and that is when I know I have to write a song. So I get obsessed and within a week I have birthed a new song. Nothing spectacular but it is SOMETHING. Well, sometimes it is spectacular. So about a month ago I went through the birthing process. It started with writing. It always starts with writing. And I typically start by writing dumb, dumb stuff and it is so painful. And I keep writing dumb stuff. And then maybe a dumb song forms. And at first I think it is great because it is the first song I have written in months and I am convinced I am a genius for being able to write such an amazing song on the spot after such a long hiatus of having written nothing. Then I come to my senses and realize it is a really really dumb song. But maybe an idea arises from the exercise and that idea leads to the creation of another song idea, and that vein is mined until something comes together. Such was the case with this song. Lots of dumb stuff was written and cast off until I came up with acceptable stanzas. Then came the music. And when it was all finished I came into the studio to record a simple acoustic version of what I had written.
The song is about a girl I liked in college. She would be walking to Luso Brazilian cinema class with a cigarette in one hand and a coffee in the other. I would walk on the other side of the street and steal glances. Then we would go into the cinema to watch scratchy, insufferable Bunuel movies. I finally met her. She likes astrology. Click on the link to download:
My Subtitled Portuguese Brazilian Movie Star
I just rearranged my studio. It is cozier.
I have not posted for awhile because I have not recorded for awhile. That does not mean I have not been playing music. In fact, I have been playing a lot of music. 10 days ago, my wife and I resuscitated The Wedding Industrial Complex, our glorious, obnoxious two piece, for a one-off gig supporting our friends The Shamblers, who were also doing a one-off gig. I also played the second half of the Shamblers set, sitting in on bass to free up Mr. Mike Marotto so he could do some proper shredding on the Strat.
I spent the month leading up to the show reacquainting my fingers with the bass, which was rather humbling. During my first practice in nearly two years my fingers froze up and it reminded me of how, no matter how small the muscle, it can get out of shape. My finger muscles were the equivalent of a portly, pickled couch potato. Oh wait, all my other muscles are like that too. So I practiced and practiced and damn did I have fun. I love playing bass. Now my fingers are cut and lean with six-pack abs.
While all this bass practicing was going on, I was also practicing with my wife, honing our rusty chops since we had not played together for nearly two years. The first practice was dreadful and my knee jerk reaction was to just say “fuck it”. But the second practice was better and the third was better. The fourth totally sucked. Then we jut sort of got better and better. Granted, this must be taken with a grain of salt. We play simple, three chord rock-n-roll. But when I look back upon how much we sucked in the days of yore, I realize just how much room for improvement there is with simple, three chord rock. And we have improved!
The amazing thing is just how much blood, sweat and tears goes into getting ready for a show that no one gives a shit about. Regardless, we soldier on.
Anyways, I think the point of this post was to say that I have not been recording but rather have been preparing for a show. The show is over so now it is time to get back to recording. I’m terrified.