I'm beginning to understand why so much music is so predictable -- it's just so much easier. If you do a reasonably good job of creating something that reminds the listener of something else they already like, they'll usually like your song as well. So when you sit down to write a song, you pretty much know what to do. And when people hear it, they know what to think.
I know I'll catch a lot of grief for saying this, but it also seems pretty easy to make "avant garde" music -- because in that case NOBODY knows what to think. When you operate completely beyond the borders, your music will also be beyond criticism, understanding and, (except in the case of few pretentious fops) appreciation. Bang two pots while running the bathwater and humming something in Himalayan and you will likely win the praise of some scribe with an eye patch and a top-knot, but the rest of us will be scratching our heads and screaming for the exits.
Anyway, this week's song has been a bit of nightmare, because I'm trying to do something a bit different, but still make it accessible, even enjoyable. So I've spent 90% of my last 72 waking hours in my little studio working and re-working this song to the point of (more) personal insanity, tweaking the arrangement and the mix and trying to make it somehow work, to communicate the vague landscape I saw and heard in my head when I first cooked up the idea.
I fear it's still kind of a mess. But maybe you'll love it.
PS... The line in the second verse refers to Dave Brockie, the now deceased lead singer of the Richmond, VA band GWAR. There's a story behind it.
lyrics
The man from beyond
snickered and yawned
he said, c'mon, c'mon
I was not ready
Nothing I could do
elevator in his shoe
felt my stomach jump
as we started to move
Goin' down, goin' down, goin' down
In the thrid ring of hell
I finally found my wallet
sticking from the pocket
of the devil by my side
all very well
call it what you call it
first thing that they teach you is
forget about pride
It's not like you think
they handed me a drink
I was graded with a letter
I'd hoped for better
Led me to a room
and there in the gloom
leaning 'gainst the wall
it was Brockie after all
Goin' down, goin' down, goin' down
CHORUS
Pride -- that deadly sin
every hour they drum it in
you just can't win
Pride -- they beat you down
But they don't know
their underworld...
has an underground
(Meet behind the bust of Virgil
circle in the dark beside the black fire
whisper in the blue black
a cello with a slow attack
you heard it right jack
pitchfork sons of bitches better watch thier back
This ring has been decoded
Pluto's been demoted
Meet the new dog, Rover
This boy is takin' over!)
Ira Marlowe's songs have appeared in indy films, been featured on NPR and Dr. Demento, and received a Parent's Choice Award. He's taught songwriting at UC Berkeley and penned the tunes for four shows by a Tony-winning theatre troupe.
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