The life and times of Isaac Dust
There’s a girl who lived on my block
She wore pigtails and bright purple socks
She could sing before she could talk
She had wings but she’d rather walk
A ghost of a prayer still floats in the air
Keeping me longing from the depths of my despair
I don’t expect a kiss or that you’ll stay the night
or that you wave your hands and make everything alright
I just want you to know when you’re going out that door
I don’t regret a thing
[photo copyright: temples of grey]
This week’s studio noodling combines a section of The Who classic Naked Eye (off Odds & Sods) with some heavy riffing/experimenting with guitar effects. As always, it is what it is, which is how I like my Sunday sessions at Green Desk Studios. Enjoy:
I’ve been chipping away at digitizing my song idea tapes. A daunting task, considering I’ve got damn near a hundred of ’em. I’m enjoying it, though, as I get to relive the moments of creative epiphany (and sometimes pure insanity) I’ve captured on tape over the years. It would take at least ten years—with no day job—to go back and develop all the song ideas into full-fledged, high-quality recordings. I realize this will never happen. I’m fine with it, though, because 1) Many of the ideas suck; 2) Some of them are too precious to change at all; and 3) I’m constantly coming up with NEW ideas that demand time and attention, so I can only return to the stuff on the old tapes that I find particularly compelling.
This weekend I converted Song idea tape #63 to mp3 files. This 90 minute tape is from the summer of 2006, and documents 48 ideas, including such future classics as Cool riff, Rockin’ riff, Shower song, Legs on a snake, Old timey acoustic riff, Whistle beatbox, and High and longin’.
I also found this short and sweet cover of the Radiohead B-side, You never wash up after yourself, for your listening pleasure:
My work/play for this weekend consisted of trying to get a good live acoustic/vocals sound, so I can start recording tunes live with minimal effort and still have them sound decent. I did a version of a two-chord song called “I am alive,” which has evolved (but not beyond two chords) over several recordings over the years. I like the live acoustic/vocal sound on this one, but I’ve already forgotten how I did it. I never write down knob settings and whatnot, out of sheer laziness and stupidity. I over-dubbed a little harmony and ambient guitar, then called it a day.
I am alive.mp3
The sun drops out of sight
and I am the night
Cool air on my skin
and I am the wind
I am the wind
Nothing’s quite as it seems
and I am the dream
Floating out on the lake
and I am awake
I am awake
Holding on to the day
and I am afraid
The sun one day will die
But I am alive
I am alive
Yeah, I’ve been listening to The Black Keys a lot lately. Here’s some blues wanking that has my ears ringing:
Blood-red house.mp3
Got on my hands and knees
and I begged my disease
Said “Beg you darling, please.
I need some release.
If you let me off the hook this time,
I’ll do anything.”
She said “Take the train to Shepherd Street.
Go to 117.
Knock exactly seven times,
then wait patiently.
In that blood-red house with no windows,
that’s where you’ll find me.”
I used to do a weekly thing on my MySpace page called “Dustcast,” to motivate myself to create on a regular basis. I pumped out maybe nine or so “episodes” before it slipped my mind—for the next couple of years.
But hey, what can you do except get back on the horse. And if the horse wandered off a long time ago and starved to death, or got eaten by a bear or something, well then I guess there’s nothing to do but walk. Or you could always take the bus, but that is neither here nor there.
The point is, I want to engage in the creative process more often, at least once a week, and I’m more likely to do it in earnest (and it’s more fun) if I share the results with my fellow gong-headers.
I spent most of my studio time this weekend trying to remember how to use my equipment, and by the time I figured out how to get my microphone to stop buzzing, I only had time for a quick cover. But hey, it’s a start.
The Who was the first rock band I fell head-over-heels in love with, back in 1982 when HBO aired their first “Final Tour.” Love ain’t for keepin’ off the Who’s Next album has always been one of my favorites, and here’s my take on the tune, as it came back to me on a quiet Sunday evening:
Who knows why certain things capture our imaginations. A few weeks ago my friend Bill posted a Joan Halifax essay on his blog called “The Lucky Dark.” The phrase comes from a translation of a St. John of the Cross poem, and basically it refers to all the dark, scary shit that we hate—like suffering, death, loss, and fear—but that also can be deeply transformative when embraced. Just as the phrase “Waiting for the miracle” captured my attention and guided my creative process for years, “The Lucky Dark” seized hold of me right away, and I knew it would be the title of my next album.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what I do musically, what it means to me, and how I see the process unfolding now that I’m back in Carrboro, NC. There’s quite a music scene here, and I had a great time being a part of it a few years ago when I played bass for My Dear Ella. My buddy Eric—the heart and soul of MDE—is still playing music here, fronting a new band called Death of the Sun, and presently putting the finishing touches on a new record that is going to be absolutely fantastic.
I’m not sure how I fit in to the music scene right now, or even that I fit in at all. When I settle in to my little studio on a Saturday evening, I’m just looking to open up and see what happens. The process is so wonderful, so enlivening, that the end result is almost beside the point. I share it here on my blog for a lot of reasons. Of course, I get a thrill when a little praise is thrown my way. But really my music is part of a bigger picture I’ve been sloppily painting for years now. For lack of a better word, it’s a spiritual practice, a way to connect with others and the depths of myself.
Last night I intended to record a song I’ve been kicking around for a few years. But when I went searching for drum beats, I tickled the virtual ivories a little on the way, and got lost there for the whole evening. Here’s what happened:
Seventh time’s a charm.mp3
I will pack my things
I will hit the road
I will not look back
Then I always look back
I will wait all night
for the words to come
Set them free like tears
Let them go like tears
Take me to the edge
This time I’ll jump right in
I won’t change my mind
for the seventh time
So I woke up from a nap yesterday, shuffled into my little studio, and dazedly recorded this little song before it drifted back into the ether.
No, I don’t know anyone named Allison, and yeah, I suppose taking a picture of myself immediately after each new recording is pretty weird. Given the sad look on my face and sad tone of the song, I imagine folks might think I’m hopelessly depressed. I actually feel great at the moment, but admittedly there’s been an undercurrent of sadness this past week. My Mom has been in the hospital with heart trouble (she’s okay) and I miss my wife to an almost unbearable extent (she’s returning to the US in four weeks!). And besides, the creative process for me always seems to kick in during the dark times. When I’m happy I just enjoy the moment, and rarely feel like writing a song. Whatever — Here’s a happy photo I snapped about an hour later, after I spoke with my Mom on the phone.
When I’m alone too much I start to develop a peculiar relationship with myself, one that manifests in some peculiar ways. Taking photos of myself is just the tip of the iceberg people. The tip of the iceberg.
I felt like crap today after a late night out reacquainting myself with the Carrboro music scene. However, I promised myself I would record something this weekend, come hell or high water, so I pushed through the fog and pushed out the following piece of strangeness.
Green Desk Studios is back in business.
Godspeed.mp3
The question that eats you like cancer
I have the answer
Are you ready to hear it?
Godspeed through all your dreams
You’re such a lonely animal
So spread your seed
Godspeed through all your dreams
You’re crawling back from Mexico
On hands and knees
Godspeed through all your dreams
You’re finally on the radio
But no one’s listening
Clarity came like a storm to my brain
It blew in from the South and blew out of my mouth
in a long string of words never meant to be heard
Only seen in the sky like the Fourth of July
All the red and blue lights like the stars in the night
must all come to fade with the dawn of the day