I’ve been working dilligently in the studio but neglecting the blog for a while due to illness. When the head is stopped up with nasty stuff there isn’t much to say that’s worth typing. Things have picked up this week and there’s a lot of cool stuff going on in the studio. What’s not going on is what I had intended.
When I completed Nothing Of Consequence I assumed that I would be able to put away the electric guitar and pick up my fingerstyle acoustic tunes that I’d started before the summer. That didn’t work out. It seems that there is more to be done along the lines of what I just finished. There were more songs bubbling and in cases like that, there’s only so much fighting to be done. I pushed things for a week and at the end of it was pretty disappointed with the results. Time to follow the gut.
The track I’m working on now started as a series of wildly textured layers. I was using a technique that has served me well in getting things going. I hear a song and try to reproduce it in the studio. I never end up with what I start out to make. So I built this entire song around the idea of another one but I doubt anyone would be able to relate the two even if they were side by side. It’s been stuck in my head since and that’s a good sign. It’s also where things got weird.
When I got home last night, I had a raging headache. Pulling into the driveway I was struck with a lyric. I wrote it down when I got into the house. I should say that in high school I could churn out song lyrics like a machine. All that mattered was that the words had to rhyme and have some deeper meaning (an allusion to something from English class was always good). Big words were a bonus and if the listener (or singer) had to look them up, so much the better!
With time and experience came the realization that there is only one Neil Peart and what I was trying to do was pretty cringeworthy. I can’t help but pick through some of my older notebooks and stare in awe at my pretention. But it was pretentious with conviction! That’s the youth that is wasted on the young. That complete belief in one’s own abilities. I can’t wait to see my son get there.
What was written in the little notebook wasn’t all that bad. Very simple. No big words. Nice and declarative. A little sad maybe, but not the kind of sad where I’m writing in black ink on black paper (credit: H. Rollins). All in all, they were pretty spiffy.
Since they were now in my notebook, I decided to step up and sing them. Wow. That is one seriously unpleasant experience for me. I’m too picky to like the way I sing and lack the talent of someone who can afford not to be picky. I have nothing but respect for people who convert themselves into singers. It brings to mind cousin Dave who has done some really great singing lately with The Gary (check ’em out!) I’m not really sure did much singing before his stint with the band. Correct me if I’m wrong Dave! The point is that it wasn’t easy and anyone who is hoping for a link to last night’s efforts is going to be disappointed. Ain’t no way. It is completely experimental and highly toxic at this time. But I’m willing to put in some effort to see if I can make a go of it for a track here and there. No delusions of grandeur or assumptions that I’m good enough. The goal is to do it with conviction. If I can convince myself that the track sounds like it was sung by someone who believes in it, I will release it.
Otherwise, I’ll just put an over the top guitar solo over it and garble the voice with effects until it sounds like a malfunctioning tape deck.
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