Uppity...downitty...uppity...downitty...down...down...downitty...
Well...inbetweenst work, I write. I am compelled to. "All artwork is eventually abandoned"...so Picasso was once quoted. I feel that too. I have abandoned another song today, my possible ninth piece for my next album aptly titled "Flotsam and Jetsam".
I have no idea what songs will ultimately be used for the album, though I am not one to discard and destroy my pieces, you never know. I also know my mental state heavily influences my perception of liking or disliking a song of mine. All of them have been hated at one time or another, some have been liked. Twenty-five years of doing this I know that what I think rarely matters. It is everyone else that will breath life or castrate them, and even then change their mind later. There is a scene in the movie "Basquiat" that is like a tape loop in my head...I say tape loop because it has slowly distorted over time I think, but it goes something like this: "Once you're famous, you are gonna have to keep on making the same stuff that made you famous, or they will hate you, but then...they'll end up hating you anyway..."
Now, I am not famous. Unknown, and the idea of love and hate of art and artists is complicated. Love of songs might be love of the artist as a person/personality and not the song. Or vice versa. Hate of a song is the same. I would rather be loved or hated, because they are very similar in my mind. Indifference is the killer.
Being unknown as I am, indifference rules with an iron hand. The goal/hope for me is endurance. To stay standing in all the rounds. Win or lose, I can say..."You never got me me down Ray...you never got me down..."
Maelstrom
To know like a sinking ship
Dripping from my fingertip
The torpedoed and the damned
In line and holding hands
Oh kill me...
It's pulling me down
The Devil's in the deep blue sea
Angel's have no memory
Triangulating 'round the block
Nothing ever seems to stop
Stop me...
It's pulling me down