The Black Forest

Random blaghness...

Reconciled To Be Up For A While...

I love French Taoist. I mean Finch Toast. You know what I mean. I know what I mean. With Cap'n Crunch. I will have no roof of my mouth afterwords, afterwards. That is the price you pay for sicking the dogs on the Sand Man. "Stay away Sand Man with you and your sandbag full of sand stuff that sands my eye leaks!" My dog thinks it's tasty, but it can be very embarrassing going to the store with crusty eyes. The checkout counter woman looks on with empathy. "Poor crusty customer...someone or no one let you leave your house looking like that...either way that is damn shame. On with you, you poor cretin, take your bacon, water, and eggs and leave in peace..." I am sure she said something like that.

 

Sublingual La-La...

Monday was a very nice day. Matt Lynott from my old band the Truckee Brothers, his current band the White Buffalo and Sean Davenport from Hills Like Elephants came over to freak out with noise makers and noise capturers. Knowing this ahead of time, I wrote a song the day before so we would have something to play doctor with. Show me yours and I will show you mine...musically speaking that is.

No matter how many years I keep doing this, the mystery and magic of the creation of a song is still awe-inspiring. I am the creator? Or am I the antenna? Both I think. As in everything, the answer is always "both".

Working with my talented friends was so fucking fun. I can say "fucking" on my own blog can't I? Yes. Fucking fun. We all met for coffee at noon, and by 9pm, including the trip to the Irish Pub, we were finished. Matt on all things drummy, Sean on all thing keyboardy, and myself juggling the rest, we finished a good song. This is why we started doing this in the first place. Way, way before the "doing it for a living" thing shadowed its way onto us. Making something from nothing. Conjurers from the long lost sect of making for making's sake. Hmmm....rambling...stop.

I thought about sharing the song, then I thought about not. Whenever I finish my album, I want at least some songs to not have been heard before the release. A surprise. Making the album not old already for before it comes out. Am I wrong on this? If so, please leave a comment as to why you think I should let it out early. Of course, having only probably 5 people actually reading this blog, I doubt if there will much of a influx of commentary...but 5 or 5000 is no matter, it is the connection that matters.

Exhausted now. It costs to create. I feel like I swam a mile. Mind swimming. I need a towel for my Cerebellum and sunglasses for my Basal Ganglia...

Broken Key Oracle...

Today I finished up the 5th album this year that I engineered/produced in my studio CHAOS Recorders. Not a day off since February 4th. I have been kinda getting cabin fever crazy, bear cave burly and downright dilapidated. So what do I do with myself with my day off? Pick up a guitar...start strumming, move to the piano and start plunking, then finally move to my Wurlitzer electric piano 220A and start pounding a song...I flip all three junction boxes for the studio...going to track this keyboard part right now and...SILIENCE.

What? Ummm...ohhhh...I broke my #25 key (A2 note) on my keyboard.

Yes. I got it Oracle Odin of Odes. STOP! REST! RECOUPERATE! REDEEM! RECHARGE!

So I bid adeiu until next time when the Fate Sisters poke me in the eye and tell me to get back to work on my own music...sometime hopefully next week. As of now, I am on manditory leave of absence of my mind.

Lindsey Woolsey...

Being sick for the last week and being saved by antibiotics more times than I can remember, I wrote a song about the turn of the 20th Century and a man who is sick with fever. I know...kinda bleak and weird, but it just came out. You gotta let 'em come when they come.

 

Lindsey Woolsey

 

Nothing but tar and turpentine
Vanishing the grandure of the wilderness
Thitherward in the black mud and yellow dust
Twilighted with tallow candles and pigs of lead
My lindsey woolsey shirt is drenched in sweat

Breaking upon a wheel
steeped in the marrow, a foretaste of heaven
Brought to bare this petrified heart
That's like throwing stones to the bottomheads
 
Tramps and blatherskites lay down their drunken heads 
My lindsey woolsey shirt is drenched in sweat

Oh I belong to this world. I long for the day and the night,
But it won't be long until I leave it...

Only the Lord can know the answer
How can I turn cold yet burn with fever
No providence to fall upon
And no woman to call my name
Just twilighted tallow candles and pigs of lead
My lindsey woolset shirt is drenched in sweat

Oh I belong to this world. I long for the day and the night,
But it won't be long until I leave it...