This song is called “Aurora”, and it is here, and this is now. Welcome to the future, same as the old times.
I was unsure for a time what to do with this promising song sketch, until today I had the radical idea that it’s done, this is it, and no more is needed. A repetition of the first verse wouldn’t hurt, but eh, it’s not a pop song. Pop songs are uppers. This is a downer. Enjoy your feeling of superiority as you condescendingly “feel sorry” for me while listening to this.
Pic unrelated, as there is no keyboard playing or even a real melody. And that keyboard is broken. I need to throw that shit away.
don’t hesitate to tell me how you feel
i won’t remind you that it isn’t real
i used to think it could happen here too
i used to think it could happen with you
and if you want to tell me who you love
it’s no problem now as you can see
though i’ll never have the taste again, i say
go ahead, enlighten me
i still make music but the verve is gone
sapped all the energy that i ride on
it’s overwhelming what some power can get
youth and indifference make it worse yet
somebody wiser ought to clip my words
there are advantages to being unheard
‘specially when the bible that you try, to spread
makes adherents feel like they’re dead
You may have noticed a slowdown, to put it mildly, in my music posting schedule. This is perhaps to be expected from time to time. There are two major reasons for the lack of productivity evinced on this blog at current:
1) By writing songs nearly exclusively about how depressed I am, I have conditioned myself to feel bummed out whenever I try making music. A good mood vanishes within minutes; my music software has become toxic.
2) No time. Regardless of the putative primacy of creative expression, the urge to get more important stuff done instead, to be what society would call “responsible,” is one I can no longer resist.
Already I feel like this post is pretentious and I don’t like it. If any of my words confuse you - for example, if you aren’t sure what “putative” means in this context - you’re welcome to avert confusion by substituting the appropriate form of the F word, thereby translating my ejaculations (verbal, not the sex kind) into some approximation of real-people talk.
To cut this short - here’s an old song I never posted. I made it about a year ago, and re-recorded the vocals in August. It’s called Hope’s Dying.
My new theory about all these bummer songs is there is actually something defiant, and therefore empowering, within the self-hatred. I am (or was when I was making this stuff) tired of being told to project confidence, sell myself, present myself with a gloss so that I could get a job, a girlfriend, exposure for my band and so on. That idea of self-promotion has always seemed an anathema, a hollow shell. So, through music, I’m exaggerating my own flaws in order to reject that falseness as strongly as possible. It’s like saying, “You know what, motherfuckers?” (finally an Anglo-Saxon vulgarity). “I do have some insecurities, and you’ll just have to deal. This is me. Take it or leave it.”
Of course, most people were more than happy to leave it. But I do receive the occasional encouraging comment about my possibly-unique brand of bad music, and that’s why you’re getting this song, along with a half-baked contextual justification which I hasten to emphasize is only a theory. I don’t know for sure why I make these songs, any more than I can explain the size, shape and color of my turds. I just sit down and it happens.
Having employed a decidedly low-brow metaphor, which is perhaps more apt than I’d like to admit, now I really don’t like this post. And I’m questioning whether any of it was a good idea, but to be on the safe side, I’m posting it anyway.
i feel like a rat in a trap
and everytime i take a step it’s ready to snap
woke up one morning and the bait was laid
now my greed’s got me stuck in a world of pain
so many reasons not to walk around
so many reasons not to make a sound
we cast it off with so much ease
just to wrap our mouths around that lump of cheese
why try it
i could be dead and you just can’t tell
fire’s out but you just can’t tell
and i’m hoping that you still don’t know
but deep down i know there is no hope
vessel breaks down on the shore
no more crashing waves can she endure
i’ll tie my shoes and say goodbye
i’m running - only god knows why
True story: A few weeks ago, I dreamt that some people I wouldn’t normally show my music to (because they wouldn’t get it) had discovered this blog, pulled up one of the worst songs on here - a really, really bad one - and they were all laughing at it.
So I planned my revenge. “I’ll give them something to mock,” I thought to myself. “I’m going to compile a CD of all my worst songs, entitled ‘Worst’. Then I’ll give it to them, and they’ll mock that, not knowing it was intended to be mocked! That’ll show them!”
Well, let’s just say that if I made that CD, the above disaster, I Smile at a Dog, would not only be on it, it would be track one. Let the mocking begin.
This song is about the color green, or shit, I don’t know. It’s entitled Cottage Green though. At least I made a song, so shut up and listen to it, you bastard.
if i had a big ITS COOL stamp
i would slap it over the war,
the wavy lines on the map,
the horrors and threats of more.
is what everyone would see
and their eyes would flash dollar signs
thinking how they can
this new state of IT$ COOL, MAN
for their own personal gains.
then i would rip it off,
as violently as my weak thumbs
could possibly muster
tearing the sucker to crumbs
tearing clear thru the fabric
underlying this false affirmation.
ITS COOL would indeed
for a certain time be red-hot
scorching the hands of those in need
of another reason to keep coming
back to the bed of their lover.
but this is the wrong world because it’s not cool,
and becuz what everyone sees includes already
this wrongly conceived and portrayed statement
in the largest and boldest type of any.
find the ITS COOL and rip it off.
i hope it hurts.
your heart is still too soft.
scrap heap in a year an original tune may 8th, 2011 download
don’t pretend like it’s all good
living life not understood
i wonder where you’ll be in a year
countenances all around
turn down lips in a shallow frown
but they’ll never know who you were
when you aren’t here
understand where you come from
thy will prob’ly be undone
apathy could be bred anywhere
build your voice and bend their will
future shouts ring louder still
don’t show the map till it’s built
only then they care
stare in my window, i don’t mind
who sees me at the daily grind
i wonder where you’ll fly in a year
those who run don’t need a home
they can never feel alone
and they’ll forget who you are
after one more beer
SHOW ANNOUNCEMENT: For those of you in Minneapolis, I’m playing next Monday at Gleb’s, and if you don’t know where that is you should email me.
Why Bother Rioting?
This is a terrible mess, and yet possibly a very original song. I don’t understand it. Whatever supernatural force channeled its energy through me to create this must be pretty gnarly, like an old tree with roots and limbs tangled into a multifaceted tortuous knot. Your music is better than this, I admit it.
All right, no pretentious bullshit this time around. Suck on the Leaf is loud, sloppy and gets right to the point. If you don’t like it, there’s plenty of wankers who will strum you a plaintive love song on their pathetic guitars. They probably have better haircuts, too.
i bury myself in the earth and start to dig
no job is too big
doooooown to hell
my day’s goin just swell
deep in the undergrowth
i suck on the leaf that counts the most
and when it dries out i die
i hate myself for asking why