Category: Dustbin

I miss my little bedroom studio and sharing the results of my audio experiments on this blog. As I get ready to return to Mexico (on Thursday, February 21st), I’m checking off things on my to-do list, including sending off a few copies of my last record to friends and supporters.

To date I think I’ve sold, let’s see here… zero CD’s or songs. That’s a net profit of, let me get this straight… zero dollars and zero cents, I think. Simplifies my taxes.

The copies I’m sending out today are “Deluxe Editions,” which include B-sides and bonus tracks. The two tracks posted below are new to this site and so, in keeping with tradition, I offer them up under a present-time photo:

Track notes:

Fine upstanding young man.mp3
Perhaps the only real up-beat, poppy thing I’ve ever recorded. The music and chorus are from maestro Eric W. Back in the My Dear Ella days, this was one of the first times Eric and I semi-collaborated on a song. It only went as far as me putting down some verse ideas on a four-track tape, and then it was put on the shelf along with the six billion other undeveloped song ideas in Eric’s and my respective archives. Years later I recorded this version, for the sheer fun of it. The lyrics are goofy and idiosyncratic:

I saw your sister at The Cave [a Chapel Hill rock club]
She was at the bar and had a bit too much to drink
She didn’t even know my name, but she waved
I saw her later on the roof of The 506 [another local rock club which occasionally had after-hours get-togethers on the roof]
She was looking for some kicks
And even though I wanted more,
I just took her home

He’s a fine upstanding young man…

I guess it’s time for me to get a job
I gotta play my part in the cosmic symphony
Maybe I’ll go back to grad school
Just a few more years and I’ll have my PhD.
Then I can give it up from 9 to 5 until I’m rich enough
to buy a big house in the woods
Where I can sit out on the porch with my guitar
Just like I’m doing now [We (the guys in the band) were living in a great old house together, and indeed I was sitting on our porch when I wrote this verse]

He’s a fine upstanding young man…

You are only anybody
You are only everybody

He’s a fine upstanding young man…

****

Bonus.mp3
I love splicing together bits and pieces from my audio journal. The intro is a random moment from Mexico, as I lay in bed nursing my knee injury. Then there’s a segment from an unreleased version of “Missed Connections,” a song I’ve yet to do a proper recording of. The end is a montage of special moments from days gone by.

I have one week to get my leg back in shape, which means full range of motion and significant strength increase, or else the doctor will have to delay surgery even further, which means more time away from my wife. So, I am working hard on my pre-hab, but a guy has to take a break sometime. My in-laws are putting me up in grand style, but I found myself yearning for a musical outlet. My equipment is scattered all across North America — Kentucky, North Carolina, Mexico, New York — and while I have few things with me in New Jersey, unfortunately a guitar is not one of them. Not having a guitar is almost as bad as not having a functioning leg (well, not really), as I write and play almost exclusively on the acoustic.

I was tooling around with GarageBand on my computer when it occurred to me that all I needed was a MIDI controller to have a fully functioning recording outlet at my disposal. When I discovered one “on the cheap” at the music store down the street, I couldn’t resist, even though I’m broke and unemployed for the foreseeable future. No mas dinero, Roberto… No mas. It was cheap, so I’ll let it pass this time. Anyway, I can create again, although without a decent microphone, monitor speakers for proper mixing and, of course, an instrument that I know how to play. No importa!

It’s a tradition that I immediately record whatever comes to mind when I break in a new toy. So, without further adieu, I give you what was on my mind this morning.

Breakthrough.mp3

I woke to the birds and the best of intentions.
I tried every way I knew to express them.
I get on the train and it’s taking me somewhere
Away from myself…
Away from this cell.

But I can’t get away from you.
I lock all the doors but you still break through.

Where did the time go? How did I get home?
When did I get old? Show me the slideshow.
Somebody told me: “It’s all as it should be.”
So I’ll keep on hiding, just so you can find me.

But I can’t get away from you.
I lock every door but you still break through.

This song, by Radiohead’s Thom Yorke, never fails to move me. Here’s a version I recorded a few minutes ago:

TLW.mp3
I’ll drown my beliefs
To have you be in peace
I’ll dress like your niece
and wash your swollen feet
Just don’t leave
Don’t leave

I’m not living
I’m just killing time
Your tiny hands
Your crazy kitten smile
Just don’t leave
Don’t leave

True love waits
in haunted attics
And true love keeps
on lollipops and crisps
Just don’t leave
Don’t leave

More messing around with iMovie:

You: Yellow eyes, black leather jacket, blue skin, a scar across your cheek
Me: Upside-down, inside-out and backwards, in the check-out line you smiled at me
My tongue was tied, I wanted to reach out, just for a taste
Drop me a line, if you remember, some other time, some other place

Just when I thought I found it, I guess it slippped away
The more I think about it, the more I slip away
It’s in my mind, maybe I’ve finally reached the edge
Maybe it’s time, maybe I’ve finally reached the end

I know I’m crazy for asking, but will you love me forever
And wherever you’re going, can we go there together
And whenever we get there, can we lay in the sun

There’s no turning back now, and there’s nowhere to run to
This is all that I have now, this is all it comes down to
And if it comes down to nothing, then there’s nothing to lose

It’s all in this moment, and I can hardly contain it
I cannot control it, and I just can’t explain it
But I know if I blow it, it’ll blow me away

My eyes are wide open, and my dreams are forgotten
There are no secrets unspoken, no feelings are locked in
And if the clock has stopped ticking, then it can’t be too late

Yes, my eyes are wide open, but I can’t seem to wake up
And I can’t put my faith in some shit that you made up
So I guess that leaves nothing but this… weight…

My first fiddle-about with iMovie, featuring a snippet from an old tune written during a very productive period of my life. For some reason, earlier today I felt like revisiting some journal entries from about that time (a little more than five years ago). I had been reading Wilhelm Reich’s The function of the orgasm and my mind was sparkling with insight and creativity. Two days before my 31st birthday, I wrote the following note after a long riff about Reich’s theories:

Saki Santorelli from UMASS has some mindfulness clinic at the university. He spoke on NPR today and seems to “get it.” Need to check him out.

So, I checked him out today, over five years after the fact, and I was super impressed with the Center for Mindfulness at the UMASS Medical School. My wife and I have been planning to move to Massachusetts once she finishes her PhD here at the University of Kentucky. I will be looking into the Center for Mindfulness in much more depth in the coming weeks, and I’ll report my findings as they trickle in.

There surely must be something somewhere…

Tonight’s musical meditation, dedicated to Ken Wilber. Be well, brother.

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
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
I am awake

Holding on to the day
‘Cause I am afraid
The sun one day will die
But I am alive
I am alive
I am alive

I can’t begin to describe how much I enjoy sitting down in front of my green desk. I used to keep my four-track recorder on an old wobbly blue desk I bought for five dollars at Goodwill. It was about ready to collapse when my girlfriend (now my wife) built me a new desk for my birthday. That’s how Green Desk Studios (a.k.a. my bedroom) was born. Now my bedroom is our bedroom, where I sit before that same green desk to record in my audio journal. I got this off my chest yesterday:

If you want.mp3
If you want…
Come hear me sing
If you won’t…
Don’t mean a thing
Just let me in

Turn back the clock…
If you want
I’ll be back down the block
And if you won’t…
Don’t mean a thing

Rest your head upon my chest
Remember this
Forget the rest
Just let me in

I really didn’t want to write this song. It just nagged me all week until I surrendered.

Excuse me.mp3
He stepped on the bus holding a suitcase
A look of pensiveness on his face
I moved toward the window, making a space
He sat next to me and said:
“Excuse me for bleeding all over your shoes”

He needed a bath, all dressed in tatters
Can’t put together what’s been shattered
He asked for the time, as if it mattered
He rose from his seat and said:
“Excuse me for bleeding all over your shoes”

He left his suitcase there on the seat
I knew it was wrong but I took a peek
A little dog wrapped in a bed sheet
Dead as the night is black

Okay, so I just wrote a Christian Rock song.

Of course it’s not a Christian Rock song, but the lyrics sure do read like one. I just laid down the tracks as they came to me and, as usual, I’m not quite sure what it all means. But it’s definitely not a Christian Rock song. I fucking HATE Christian Rock music. Can’t a brother sing about Jesus without fear of such slander?

New eyes.mp3
Hours of darkness
Waiting to be set free
You were waiting there for me

It’s been so long
since I’ve looked at you
with new eyes

Jesus died for our sins
so don’t pay no mind to this trouble we’re in
Jesus died on the cross
so everything gained is meant to be lost
Punch-drunk, fist of a King
A pair of black eyes, for his praises I sing
Brighter than the sun in my eyes
Together we stand in the tide