Madonna is singing about rain while making the pouty face.

Things are rolling along, like any rock that isn’t the least bit circular will do. Maybe “rolling” isn’t the word, and neither is “mum”. The word could be “trebuchet”. That’s a good word.

I finished that song with the odd flamenco-ish rhythm and multi-tracked leg slaps, but now I don’t think it’s album material anymore. Tried adding drums and some feedback-tinged electric guitar only to ditch them in the mix. It just didn’t quite seem to work. The thing still feels like it isn’t finished, and there are too many other things that need attention, so for now it goes in the pile marked “probably not showing up on the next CD”.

A few unexpected tiny songs have toppled out and will probably make the cut, including one that began as a ukulele improvisation and led to overdubbed dementia. I ended up slamming my hands on my desk for percussion instead of using drums. My hands didn’t entirely approve, but it was fun anyway. Everything was distant mic’d with the same mic, and I compressed the shit out of it all, and yet it didn’t come out sounding half as lo-fi as I expected it would. That either means I have some good equipment, or I really do make medium-fi music for mentally unstable young lovers after all. Who knew?

I still plan on most of the songs being longer than things have been lately, but it probably won’t hurt to have the odd sixty-second track in there for good measure. The last album had no tiny songs at all, so I’d best not neglect them altogether for too long. Yesterday I also got most of the meat down for another song that decided to end up at about the eight-minute mark. It still needs piano, drums, some nasty electric guitar, and other things, but it’s getting there.

I’ve been toying with the idea of starting a sporadic series of writings here and giving them a blanket title like Tales from Less Hairy Times, shining a spotlight on certain moments from my never-to-be-properly-written musical autobiography and then shattering the spotlight with a slingshot armed with spam. It might be a fun experiment to do the occasional bit of more “serious” and longer-winded writing here. I could write a hefty tome about band-related adventures alone. I don’t know if anyone would find that sort of thing interesting, but if you find yourself confronted with mountains of text at some point, at least now you’ll know what it’s all about.

Today, however, my soul will be stolen through photographic means. More on that soon.

8 comments

  1. It was actually drawn by a dude named David Shrigley…you should do a Google images search if you want a laugh. He’s drawn some pretty amusing stuff. My drawing skills are sadly more limited than limited…but I won’t rule out the possibility of a twisted comic at some point.

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