Blue Rider & The Broken Guitar

GO HERE INSTEAD

2011-10-18T18:09:00.001-07:00

http://www.psychicbodega.tumblr.com

What?

2011-08-23T13:45:00.001-07:00

Lines Written at a Kitchen Table in March

2011-08-21T10:46:00.000-07:00

We wished it was Autumn, but to no avail.
A spruce, clacking its screechy branches
on the window, the leaves had long decayed.
Matted into the ground.

I once thought you were everything -
night and day, the seed of all happiness,
and when I lost you, every action
became a vain trifle.
Like sneezing in a church.

The world is different now.
On the sidewalk, people laugh.
You are nothing more than a candy bar
wrapper. And all these pieces of broken
windshield, they glitter in the sun.

I have something else to look forward to -
a spring and another thousand seasons.
The rose on the cover of a book
I have yet to read.

Sometimes I get stuck in a rut too, it's ok girlfriiiiend

2011-08-09T18:59:00.000-07:00

Man I gotta go see this dude Friday at the waterfront. Heavy rotation. Every time I go to put on another record, I just end up putting this one on again...

My best friends long gone but I got

2011-08-02T20:19:00.000-07:00

By The Light Through Which I Saw You

2011-07-18T18:31:00.000-07:00

When I opened the doorway that sealed my fate
I could not let you enter your pearly new gates
of a life that I knew would get further away
The unknown makes us bitter
We all want things our way
But I hope that you're good, hope you're doing OK

Because these times that we temper our temples alone
May we find all the ways which our spirits have grown
to the Light of the Truth that is Beauty All One -
and I never meant to do you no harm

Only in an emergency is there an alarm
and I just couldn't let go of something I loved
while the things that I hated just rained from above
and I know that you love me and I'll always love you
in the places we stand we are somebody new
Now we're always connected like the stars and the moon
By the Light through which I saw you.

The Uncanny Mark of The Wounded Healer

2011-06-27T08:43:00.001-07:00

Version

2011-06-25T10:13:00.000-07:00

I remember being 11 years old and the video for this song was on all summer looong. With the dog and all that. I think it was underrated, potentially because of Collins' early 90's production style (15-piece band, etc) and the fact that it was on the "All Dogs Go To Heaven" Soundtrack.

2011-06-24T18:47:00.000-07:00

Covering this song and a few others. Will put them up when I get a proper internet connection. Urg.

In Training

2011-06-14T23:42:00.000-07:00

http://irazormovie.blogspot.com/

2011-05-29T11:23:00.001-07:00

some place else

2011-05-28T14:06:00.000-07:00

Do you wanna

2011-05-23T18:09:00.001-07:00

Best Dance Song. Ever. Period.

You don't need Peter Laughner

2011-05-22T19:24:00.000-07:00

Got to record on Peter Laughner's 4-track last night.

version

2011-05-22T12:16:00.000-07:00

2011-05-20T10:29:00.001-07:00

Finished another new video I can't release until our label finally releases our album. Playing the waiting game sucks. Dreams again last night out of nowhere like a brick to the head.

2011-05-17T09:43:00.001-07:00

Hypnos Waiting

2011-02-18T11:46:00.000-08:00

Watch the clock until the morning
Wait for time to run its course
Until corralled into the window of the light
and then we're safe once again

Until another night escapes us
we escape them with every way we try
watch the clock until the morning light
draws in and once again.

2011-02-09T21:40:00.000-08:00

My best friend is leaving the city and I am bummed. Of course I never know how to act in these situations. Apologies to anyone I haven't been right with as of late.

2011-02-03T18:53:00.000-08:00

"Whoever communicates to his brothers

in suffering the secret splendor

of his dreams acts upon the

surrounding society in the manner

of a solvent, and makes of all

those who understand him, often

without their realization, outlaws

and rebels."

- Pierre Quillard

Jackie ate some beans

2011-01-24T22:09:00.000-08:00

I did this last night. Ate pizza and watched Twin Peaks. I need a job again. Its so cold. So cold.

mmm

2011-01-12T19:43:00.001-08:00

doubles

America

2011-01-08T17:40:00.000-08:00

The rhetoric of violence in this country would make any sane human sick. Too bad that's not what happens with insane people. Go get em, Jesse. Eesh.

My thoughts and condolences to all hurt in the tragedy today.

Words from the Front

2010-12-30T12:14:00.000-08:00

"What is it that makes you want to write songs? In a way you want to stretch yourself into other people's hearts. You want to plant yourself there, or at least get a resonance, where other people become a bigger instrument than the one you're playing. It becomes almost an obsession to touch other people. To write a song that is remembered and taken to heart is a connection, a touching of bases. A stab to the heart. Sometimes I think songwriting is about tightening the heartstrings as much as possible without bringing on a heart attack." - Keith Richards, Life

Old Daze

2010-12-28T20:57:00.000-08:00

Enter The Mannequins

"Some sort of...nuclear sludge" - Shahin Motia

The Future

2010-12-18T12:53:00.000-08:00

Three excellent articles on the changing of the guard: The old, the current, and the new. The future looks at once optimistic and bleak.

Loft party tonight at The Library is On Fire Headquarters: Verizon Wireless, Snake Dudes, and Alien Whale. 9pm. Free. $5 for beer or bring your own. 114 Forrest 3c buzzer 13 in Bushwick.

New Paintings

2010-12-11T12:55:00.000-08:00

Art Opening last night. Ash, me, Juan Gomez, Danger Dan, Essy,

and Elizabeth R. Ferry. Fun times. Unfortunately I left my memory

card for my camera back at the loft, so I could only snap a few shots.

Wanted to capture my new work on a white wall.

These paintings were done in the last week. I found the frames

on Bedford Avenue, and the burlap from a shopping sack discarded

in my building stairwell. The paints were from an art kit I found in

the trash somewhere. Except for the black and the red, which were

real oil paints. And the white, which was just flat wall paint.

Luckily I didn't run out of staples.

TONITE

2010-12-10T11:30:00.000-08:00

new paintings

MEXICAN HAZE

2010-12-07T10:26:00.001-08:00

L.I.E. soundtrack

2010-12-01T18:47:00.000-08:00

"But as it was, I did what so many men have done throughout history...

when a woman has broken their heart...I went to war" - from Men Who Stare at Goats

Had Pierre, the Stones' guitar tech, teach me and the curator of the Rock'n'roll Hall of Fame some of Keith's guitar licks today. Rip that 6th string off, sling it low and tune that junk down!

My New Band

2010-11-28T23:52:00.000-08:00

VERIZON WIRELESS

Alison "Upgraaade" Busch: Drums

Steve "Expired Contract" Five: Guitar, Vox

Shahryar "Sextin'" Motia: Guitar, Vox

Come See VERIZON WIRELESS This Thursday at COCO 66.

Free Show w/ Help, Beacon, Imaginary Friends and DJ Cowboy Mark.

Or else we will Photoshop yr ass...badly.

2010-11-27T22:45:00.000-08:00

Killer Tone / Thanksgiving

2010-11-24T19:49:00.000-08:00

Gilmour's actual amp from 1970. One of maybe 6. Yes.

Pete tracking the Voodoo Death Bells on the 8078

Perry in full Wizard Robe.

"Come on my friends, let's make for the hills...

They say that there's gold but I'm lookin' for thrills..."

tracking

2010-11-23T23:09:00.000-08:00

In Glen Cove, Long Island all week (save for the park slope turkey day respite at erin hosier's cosby brownstone on thursday) at pie studios tracking on this. It is awesome. Pete shook the voodoo percussion and Perry dug the crotales out of Aerosmith's rehearsal studio. Tomorrow is guitar day. These days are infrequent, but always welcome. It is my responsibility to play guitar all day tomorrow. That is radical. I want the tone like Josh Homme.

e. ramirez-ferry

2010-11-22T16:11:00.000-08:00

kitchen table doco n mags fun

shtuff

2010-11-22T15:43:00.000-08:00

seventeen (an old piece from about a year ago)

in progress

cover

2010-11-22T08:24:00.000-08:00

use once and destroy

estuary won't you take me

2010-11-18T22:59:00.001-08:00

late night at kayrock

2010-11-17T01:18:00.000-08:00

just finished drawing some monsters for wolfy's prints that he's taking to miami this weekend.

i don't have any scans...but they sorta look like this:

so yeah. boy its late. shah and i are now back in bushwick. i haven't been up this late doin' what we doin' for awhile. though i never seem to be able to get up earlier, no matter how early to bed it is for me... mmph.

Rendition

2010-11-15T15:41:00.000-08:00

Performing Nick Drake's "Hazey Jane I" at Living Room, NYC. 10/18/10.

looking for a moment that will never happen

2010-11-14T09:23:00.000-08:00

bad dreams last night. scary mansion house with weird people. on the run. woke up feeling alone.

neu

2010-11-13T23:01:00.000-08:00

love = anarchy

and then also a new one

They let me outta Pontiac when I was just 17

2010-11-13T09:23:00.000-08:00

Goin' to the Whitney with Wolfy today to see the Paul Thek retrospective. Wish we woulda went on Wednesday. Then I coulda said I went with Wolfy to the Whitney on Wednesday. ANYWAY...Good to be back in the city...

So far the only person I can find who was from Pontiac was Elvin Jones. I suppose he definitely had to get it outta him. But I wonder who exactly Gabriel was talking about in that song. Pontiac reformatory? Maybe it was Mezz Mezzrowe? Maybe Gabriel was reading Really the Blues?

ice cold

2010-11-11T18:51:00.001-08:00

Producin' 'at

2010-11-08T13:05:00.000-08:00

The new USAISAMONSTER Record has been released. It is the record I recorded at the Library is On Fire Headquarters last year. It is called "R.I.P." You should listen to Jimmy Bell's Back in Town.

In other news, the first round of tracking is completed for The Library is On Fire's new album, entitled "Works On Paper". There is even a disco song (entitled "Fly Suckaz on The Score") that came to fruition after we scored a Yamaha keyboard at the Goodwill in Ravenna, Ohio. It was a Realistic Concertmate 460, however, that contributed to a few other tracks. Lots of special guests appeared on the first installment of this season's Library album, including Jamie Stillman, guitarist of Party of Helicopters and founder/builder of Earthquaker Devices. PSYCHED. The next step is to spend some time up in Glen Cove, where our newfound friend, Perry at Pie Studios, will help us mix (right now I'd like to insert here a show of gratitude and Thanks to Elias Gwinn for arranging our introduction to Pie Studios, as well as to Todd Tobias for making this last week's session an incredibly fun, experimental, and fruitful one.)

Keep your eyes peeled (that saying has always sorta freaked me out) for the new Brother Earth hip hop video, entitled "The Girl with The Crystal Tears" in the near future. Directed by Flow Masta Steve Five.

Also, I've begun using this Digital Cigarette. It seems to be working, oddly enough. All the enjoyment of a nicotine addiction without the carcinogens and tar, and NYC price tag. I think I enjoy self-betterment and being "healthy".

oof.

2010-11-03T18:00:00.000-07:00

Things Change

2010-10-20T11:36:00.000-07:00

What a bummer. The Charles Engelhard Courtyard at the Met has been renovated. I loved that spot, where you could sit at the cafe and gaze outside onto Central Park, the sky unobstructed through the glass ceiling.

Now, the sky is obstructed by two catwalks, the split level flooring has been built up to one level, and there isn't nearly the same ambiance there once was. I had some very memorable moments there.

I suppose I hadn't been there in a year or two, so it came as kind of a shock when I walked through the room. I was impatiently awaiting getting to the courtyard, so much so that I couldn't quite concentrate on the paintings and sculptures I was looking at in the rooms before arriving there.

I guess it comes down to a memory. A Mansion with Many Apartments, as Keats would say, and that is where it will have to live from now on, along with the memories contained therein.

Now We Rise

2010-10-19T13:49:00.000-07:00

and we are everywhere.

I will be performing the songs of Nick Drake tomorrow, October 18th, at the Living Room, 154 Ludlow Street, 7pm sharp. If you ever wanted to see Nick Drake's songs performed live, this would be a good chance. I'll try not to mess up.

Also, Rhys Chatham's A Crimson Grail has been released on Nonesuch Records, marking my (as well as 215 other musicians') first performance on a major label recording. The recording sounds great, but of course nothing could compare to being there. Amazing.

The Broken Guitar

2010-10-07T10:52:00.000-07:00

MASTERS FROM THEIR DAY

Your hero just went to the bathroom...

2010-10-05T10:56:00.000-07:00

Something I can't quite get over...Lou Reed played us on his radio show.

Completely unreal. I am humbled, and genuflecting, in the crumbling marble halls of the Rock Gods. Which brings me to something I've been thinking about lately. They say its never a good idea to meet your heroes (I have a few examples to attest to this...namely R. Hell...of whom I still greatly admire, but to wit a tinge of nausea is aroused when recalling our interview, my accidental misquoting, and a subsequent petulant reprimand). Never meet your heroes... Something I'm a firm believer in, with one caveat: if your hero considers you an admirable artist in your own right (one saving grace of my experience with Hell is that he said my writing had "a lot of juice"). Not that I'm saying Lou Reed considers us good artists (apparently we made the cut for his show...but...), or that I would ever feel comfortable meeting the man to whom I admire so greatly for his songwriting abilities and lyrical street renderings (I hear he can be a bit hot and cold). But in my experience, its always a much more fruitful experience to do your own work, then let it stand on its own, and have whatever admirers come to you. This happened very recently with another artist I greatly admire, and the results were wholly positive, with one other caveat: after meeting him and hanging out, I realized there was a disconnect between the person and the artist. Something like eating a delicious hamburger and later on seeing how the hamburger was made. Maybe that's not the best analogy. But you get the point.

You could look at it this way. If you're an artist of any stripe, consider your own work, and how it came to be. Think about the supernatural process in which your art was boundlessly extracted from the ether. Perhaps you're a writer. Where exactly did that best line come from? When you look back on it, is it you? Part of your being perhaps, but when you're on the toilet, or sucking down whiskey after whiskey at the bar, is that line you? In my case, I would say that the best of the best of what I've done, of my whole oeuvre, is the high watermark of my being. The thing in which I can take the utmost pride (in my case, the one piece of artwork I'm most happy with is a song called 'The Stone Statue I'). But do I achieve that level on a day-to-day basis? And especially within interpersonal relations? The answer would be a resounding 'NO'.

Sometimes I like to think of Baudelaire on the toilet. It makes me consider the consequences of holding someone who I admire in such great esteem. And I think Baudelaire would like it that way. Because when you consider such greatness in such debased terms, you can equate yourself to those terms. And therefore you can go on being great. On the toilet, or not.

2010-05-30T08:29:00.001-07:00

In memory of Dennis Hopper

King's Call

2010-05-30T07:53:00.000-07:00

hypnos waking

2010-05-28T17:56:00.001-07:00

oh good

2010-05-23T20:23:00.000-07:00

The Broken Guitar

2010-04-24T23:51:00.000-07:00

Today The Library is on Fire went up to Glen Cove to record at Pie Studios with Perry Margouleff and Elias Gwinn for Benchmark Audio's Masters from Their Day series. The series takes a band into a professional recording studio for one day, hearkening back to the days when bands had only a handful of hours to cut a single. Cory Race stepped up and flew in from Ohio as Pete had double-booked and had to play a show in Manhattan.

We'd like to thank Elias for giving us this opportunity and for being a great producer, Erica Lorentzen for introducing us to Elias, Isaac Deitz for the video, Perry Margouleff at Pie, and Jeremy Johnston for the co-engineering. The experience was one of the best of our lives. The episode should air within the next few months.

I wrote a new song for the session. Its called "The Broken Guitar". I've been thinking lately about the fallen poets of my day - Jay Reatard, Jeff Buckley, Kurt Cobain, Rachel Wetzsteon, and my friend Tyler. I've wanted to make something honoring the people I've so admired - those whose personalities, inner flames, and ways of life have lead to tragedy, and left us surviving in their wakes.

Last night Cory and I got home from practice and watched Patti Smith's "Dream of Life". The documentary put me in a languid state, and as I fell in and out of sleep in the dark of the loft, I thought of how Patti has carried on her charge of poetic lightning throughout such darkness - fearless lashing out against the Bush administration, the sadness and pain enduring the loss of her friends and loves. She is a true soldier of the artistry of freedom. A true soul. I thought of the song I wrote this week and felt content that I'd written something honoring those people - the good ones.

Today's recording session was an exultation of the spirit of rock'n'roll, the spirit of freedom. I was honored and grateful to play with Cory and Mark, our spirits aligned and created an air of wonderment. All three of us were humbled to be surrounded by the tools that legends had used to create their art. Cory played through a Ludwig that Ralph Molina (of Neil Young & Crazy Horse) had given Perry, the studio's owner. There was a Fender Tweed marked "Record Plant" that Jimi Hendrix played through.

The most humbling experience I've ever had in a recording studio was playing Keith Richards' 1950 Butterscotch Blonde Fender Esquire, replete with missing low 'E' string and open tuning (which I instantly tuned up without thinking). The guitar didn't want to leave my body.

Seriously. It was a very strange occurrence. It was like a seductive cat who won't leave you alone when you visit someone's house for the first time. The guitar sunk into me, demanding to be played. The gnawed neck edges and worn-down fretboard stared at me with thousands of silent stories, old ghosts of dark stages and echos of streams of energy that the guitar shot forth like shadows, like an undertow of a petrified current. The edges of the body were worn and smooth - this was an instrument which, through years of constant playing, had been molded by human hands into something created by a higher collective power. It felt like my hands were meant to be on it.

It gets better.

We got in there and were looking around and Mark goes, "Whoa. Look." pointing to an old maroon colored amp. "Made by Ray Butts special for Scotty Moore. He was Elvis' guitarist."

It was Scotty Moore's Echosonic Amplifier, the exact same amp that Elvis would often use as a P.A. before Presley and his band became popular, Elvis singing through it while Scotty played guitar at the same time. It was the same amp used to record "Jailhouse Rock" and pretty much every other Elvis hit thereafter. There's actually a tape echo built into the amplifier, which Perry turned on. Like crystals dropping into pristine water. But then a strange ghostly decay (Elvis?).

We used this setup to try a technique that I don't think has ever been used on a studio recording - what I, by default, call the "raindrop technique". I certainly didn't invent this technique, but learned of it while playing in Rhys Chatham's Crimson Grail for 200 guitars last summer in Lincoln Center. The idea is that a multitude of guitars simultaneously play, arbitrarily and arhythmically, single notes picked in a certain set of scales in any octave, then are allowed to decay, throughout a landscape, to give the effect of rainfall. Imagine a storm, but all the raindrops are in key.

To do this, we tracked the Fender Esquire through the Echosonic. All three of us played this setup, so Cory and Mark were able to experience the sound and feel of these instruments as well. All three of us were humbled and amazed to the point of being shocked. I wanted Cory to record guitar tracks as he had no actual knowledge of guitar-playing. Even he said the guitar wouldn't let go of him. For his parts I saved the notes with black dots on the fretboard, above the 12th fret. None of us listened to the playback of the song while recording our parts. We just got to sit in the huge silent tracking room and play this amazing guitar through this amazing amplifier by ourselves while the tape was rolling.

The Broken Guitar

Found yr broken guitar among the shoreline rocks

The violent waters once raging now stilled

among your missing hands and all is quiet now

The wood and wires tangled round

where your sunburst heart had smashed it down

down down down

Where all your noise is silenced now

The blazing watts that fizzled out out out

I wanna unleash the storms again

out from your blazing head

Burn out the wind in all its winding grace

to fall on down

To find the face in your lost sounds

I sat and watched the drywall skyline

bleary crystallized and numb

bearing down upon your memory the place

the place where you had run

Where all your noise is silenced now

The searing feedback fizzled out out out

I wanna unleash the storms again

out from my aching head

Burn out the wind in all its winding grace

to fall on down

To find the face in your lost sounds

On Songwriting and Making Art

2010-04-11T15:33:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been writing about what songwriting means to me, my process and viewpoint on a lot of aspects of the art. Some random scribbling on subways and while falling asleep at night (read: morning). This is an addition to The Library is on Fire Manifesto:

On Songwriting

The Song

Be concise. It took me a long time to figure out that the best way for a song to exist is by making it as short as it needs to be, and no longer. More often, the shorter, the better. Most of the time a song should only be about 2 minutes long. The reason I say this is because of melody. Melody follows a certain path - its a series of notes strung together in a way that is pleasing to the listener. In this way, music is a lot like poetry. The killer lines are just that - lines. In a song, the killer melodies are often brief as well. Of course some music (Classical, etc.) moves in and out of different melodies in long form. But, most of the time the memorable parts are those small pieces of melody (Think of the 1812 overture, or Beethoven's 5th. One can distill the "choruses" or main melodies of these pieces, the easily memorable ones, which are usually about 20 seconds long. These are essentially the "hooks" of these movements) repeated a few times for mnemonic effect. The best songs are usually between 1:30 and 3:00. Whoever said "Don't bore us, get to the chorus", aside from being a pretty bad poet, was pretty much correct.

This isn't a rule, but seems to be the case most of the time. Long form, and drone, can be used for similar effect to short songs (Oneida would be one such example, and a lot of Eastern music). But the melody, when distilled, usually comes down to a short series of notes. If a song requires more time, it is usually to build an effect (dynamically or otherwise).

I believe in brevity in structure. Want to repeat a chorus? Sure. But isn't it always more interesting when you hear the first chorus 1/2 then the second chorus all the way through? Its like foreplay. When I say brevity and that a song should only be one to three minutes long, look at some of the more mediocre songs out there (youtube Creed or Nickelback for great examples of this). Most songs that are 5:30 should be 3:15 or maybe even shorter.

I measure the success of a song (and therefore the band playing the song) by how memorable the song is a day later after I've initially heard it. Can I remember the melody? The hook? I've seen a lot of unsuccessful bands out there.

Don't be swayed by image or a cool "tone" of a band. Sure, the lead singer might be pretty or the sound might be in vogue, but are the songs good? As Devo said, "Artists and musicians are generally good looking guys and gals who couldn't hold a real job. Art and music is sometimes the ruse by which these people perpetuate their selfish hoax." A rock show is a social event, and as such, if you're having a good time and being entertained, then the event is doing its job. That is why it is important to separate the event from the artist. I've been to plenty of good shows where bad bands were performing.

Generally, those who accomplish more tend to be the most humble. Be weary of anyone who is boastful in more than a passing way.

As such, if you are good and you know it, have the confidence to say so - but don't dwell upon it. Walk softly, etc.

When I write, songs generally tend to come in clusters - some songs come 2 or 3 at a time, and are like siblings. They may have the same underlying idea fleshed out throughout 2 or 3 songs.

Track order on an album is like writing a poem. The really good line should come pretty close to the beginning, but the best line - the kicker - should come at the end. A killer title usually demonstrates the quality of the work overall.

Its ok to admire someone's songwriting to the point of enveloping it, making it your own. Most of the time your influences will be convoluted enough through your own particular style of playing or voice so as to make the influence only a trace (that is assuming you've found your own voice and aren't aping someone else's style wholly). But sometimes you have to remind yourself that you weren't the one who wrote that song or those songs, even if you identify with them so completely. Doing so will make you forget how much more you still have to accomplish in conveying your own point of view.

There will be periods of creative inactivity. This often follows great activity. This can often be depressing for the artist. Often times, the longer this period, the more the artist will question their ability (Have I lost it? Did I ever really have it in the first place?) This seems to be a natural occurrence, but can be damaging if the artist cannot find a way to escape this inactivity.

A good solution to this sometimes is trying your hand at a different genre or medium. Sometimes even cooking can break a period of inactivity.

Sometimes (what I feel is) my best work is written with haste. If I sit down to write, knowing that I have somewhere to be in an hour, the work takes on a sense of urgency that often produces quality work. This is a strange occurrence.

My particular way of working most of the time is to come up with music first, then vocal melody, then lyrics. I think it was Peter Gabriel or someone (I had a discussion about this with Kevin March from GBV, when talking about Pollard's way of writing) that said the lyrics to a song are more about the sound of the words as opposed to the words themselves. This is true in my case. A great songwriter can bridge the gap between the meaning of the words and the phonics, the sound of the words. An equally great songwriter knows when to place importance of the sound over the meaning of the words. A lot of times the most interesting stuff (vocal melody wise) is what happens first out of your mouth right after coming up with the music - like baby talk, the words and melody drift out of the fog in a magical way. A tape recorder is invaluable for this, because (in my case) most of the time these unintelligible swashes of wordsounds are instantly forgotten.

Sometimes the lyrical melody comes first. I get the sense that someone like Burt Bacharach often works this way. A killer line can spark a song almost wholly into its inception. This is a great way to work if you can catch it and distill the lyrics before they vanish into the ether.

Business always runs slower than creativity. Pace yourself, or you may find yourself sick of your songs before your album is even released.

At times, the songs you are least emotionally invested in ultimately become your favorite ones. Maybe that's because there are so many love songs out there. A lot of times it can feel like a played-out genre. But as long as people keep feeling, love songs will have relevance in peoples' lives.

When writing about a personal aspect of your life in songwriting, its OK to not get the facts straight. But tell the truth. Unless it doesn't rhyme.

The best way to start writing a song is to have a theme or title in mind - a place to start. Most of the time, though, the song itself starts with a riff.

Its ok to think that a certain riff or melody is a ripoff. Most of the time, by the time you execute the song in a band setting, the riff will sound different enough so people won't notice. But if every riff or melody you write feels like a ripoff, you're doing something wrong.

When writing lyrics, I like to use vibrant imagery or nouns, rather than abstract lines, to explain what I'm trying to say (if I'm trying to say something). Imagery is like an endless huge store where everything is free. When you use a word like flower, or gemstone, or lightning, it plants the image in the mind of the listener. Its like giving the listener a gift.

wrong

2010-02-08T03:26:00.000-08:00

Depeche Mode - Wrong - directed by Patrick Daughters from Bruno Dejonghe on Vimeo.

fallen soldier + punk as fuck

2010-02-04T16:22:00.000-08:00

Hung out with Wolfy and Allison last night post Red Dawn II practice. Can't go to the show tonight cuz I gotta work, but go tonight and tomorrow to Death by Audio! K-holes (I think) was practicin' n' Jack came by and we were realizin' how he's in like a ton of bands and must practice all the time and Rob from Rice was hangin' out. We listened to Kill the Hippies and Necros and Negative Approach and I felt Punk rock saving my life again. Went to the Levee (oof) after already having too much knappogue castle (courtesy of Wolfy) and courvoisier (courtesy of me), resulting in many shot+beer specials. The sequel to Red Dawn, indeed.

Yesterday Erin Hosier forwarded me this. Last night Jay Reatard was in my dream and I woke up feeling incredibly sad today. Half of it was the hangover. The other half was the feeling of having lost a brother.

I regret that I wrote him off, and I wish I could've seen his band live. But since he died all I've wanted to do was listen to punk rock and fuck everything else. Life is too short. I wanna eat pizza and rock. I wanna break out 'n' ride free, make zines. I want Matt Trahan to record our next 7" on 4 track. Punk is not dead, not as long as I'm alive, and those of us out there that feel it are with me, brothers + sisters. Jay wrote with an urgency and whatever, call it what you want, an eerie sense of prophecy or a death trip, he was the jam. He was punk rock incarnate. I know Jason Prufer said I would grow out of it (back at Spin More records in Kent in 1994 when I stole a God Save the Queen 7" after asking if they had any angry samoans and phil quipping "yeah lemme see if we got em locked up down in the basement") but I'm happy to report that you were wrong, Jason Prufer. I am still in my punk phase, and have been since then. Long live Punk Rock.

on a plane

2010-01-20T03:38:00.000-08:00

this is probably the coolest thing i've seen in like, months.

their sound is too big for the room, you can just tell.

i bet it was fucking RUMBLING in there. just vibrating. my god, sublime.

jay reatard died last night

2010-01-13T19:13:00.000-08:00

let me get something straight: i didn't know jay reatard. i only ever listened to his music in passing. i admired his ability to write melodies but wrote him off because, to be honest, i was slightly jealous of his success. i remember his stuff kind of reminded me of kent punk mothers kill the hippies. i knew he was good. and i heard he was an asshole.

but he was in a serious relationship with an old friend of mine, which is why i suppose upon hearing of his death today, i felt an emotional resonance to the news. he was 29, roughly ten months younger than me. and it seems reasonable that nobody my age should die in their sleep...at least not of natural causes.

of course, i don't know how he died. but it calls to mind more camera-eye stricken stars and celebutantes like casey johnson and brittany murphy, not that they have anything other than "died young" in common with him, and not to mention the string of young artists who have somewhat dubiously gone in the last years (dash snow, heath ledger), as well as young poets like rachel wezsteon and sarah hannah. it also calls to mind a friend of mine who died a few years ago of an oxycontin overdose. he was 30 years old.

i guess its the same as it ever was - keith moon, jimi, janis, etc. all that shit. these were all young artists (with the exception of johnson) and in each case, if it was an accident, then it was probably because of some self-destructive behavior. either habit or something in their nature.

jennifer michael hecht posted this recently on the best american poetry blog. i commend her efforts on giving the despairing few some glimmers of hope. but i couldn't help reading the entry with a devil's advocate mindset the whole time, piercing holes through the argument with what would seem an equally absurd logic. i have been one of those people. last night i re-read some of camus' myth of sisyphus. i think he is one of the few who wrote on the subject that make an airtight argument towards the validity of existence, one that doesn't patronize the person in question (no offense, jennifer).

i don't mean to imply jay's death as anything other than accidental. its just the thread of these deaths has made me think about it.

don't take too many drugs. what else can i say? be careful out there. if you find life unbearable, do what you need to survive. even if that means taking drugs when you have no way else to cope (keep in mind you'll have to cope, sober or otherwise, sooner or later). it may harm you blah blah blah, but if you have to get drunk tonight, do it. (jennifer michael hecht might suggest video games, but they always make me feel like a loser). there will be a point where you don't need to drink anymore. drugs can come and go. if you need to stay in and chill, i would advise that moreover. if you wanna die, that's something else entirely. but you don't want to accidentally kill yourself. that just sucks. just, whatever you do, don't take too many drugs.

don't mind me...

2010-01-12T14:25:00.000-08:00

there is a film crew in my apartment, a detritus of flight cases and cables, with a RED camera as a beacon stuck in the middle.

i need a countryside escape with my guitar and a recording interface. i want to learn to play piano better too.

Shut Up!

2010-01-08T01:57:00.000-08:00

Baaaaaaad Green Screen and Vegas Strip Club Sign Technology.

Even more to come after this...

The Sunny Side

2010-01-05T02:16:00.000-08:00

Good to see this completed. Had a blast doing it. Thanks to Wolfy and Adam and Darren Hanlon. And Natalie, especially. And Sunny (of course).

Love to see the caps go off with Wolfy and Adam's guns.

More to come...oh yeah.

Mama Tried

2009-12-30T19:08:00.000-08:00

Just saw Fallen Angel, about Gram Parsons. Intense.

Neon Boneyard

2009-12-20T19:15:00.000-08:00

If for any reason you find yourself in Vegas (God help you), this is the only place that might actually hold your attention and have something informative and interesting from which you can take. It is at the Reed Whipple Cultural center on LV boulevard N. It costs $15 for the guided tour and access to the boneyard. Its part of the NEON MUSEUM. (Sadly, boneyard closed after I luckily got in at the very last tour, but will reopen in a year or so.)

The boneyard houses all the old neon signs torn down from past casinos. Its pretty fucking cool. I took a ton of pictures and it was one of the many times recently when I really really wished I had a better camera and the knowledge to use one - though I think I did ok considering - (thinking of getting a cheaper Nikon D 40 and a few lenses...you know...when a bag of money falls from the sky)...

Incidentally I stumbled into an AMAZING exhibition at Reed Whipple: It was called ALTERED STATES: Artists re-imagine the book, curated by Joseph Shuldiner. There were some really amazing pieces but unfortunately I couldn't take any fucking photos in the gallery. Doug Buebe had a Joseph Cornell style with his work, Ellie Brown was awesome, Emily Sandor was cool. But who really stood out was alexander korzer robinson. Check him out. Very very rad cutout book dioramas. Wish I woulda thought of that.

money is a kind of poetry

2009-12-18T12:37:00.000-08:00

katy lederer interview by steve five on brah records

interview i did for kid's site.

this is how we roll

2009-12-17T02:14:00.000-08:00

our "track" for the opening shot of the sunny side of the street clip. skateboard with shitty 'slik' tripod, weighted down by national geographics. worked surprisingly well. nat's gonna be uploading the hi-def footage for a final edit. should premier in a few weeks. yes yes.

where the frisbees fly forever

2009-12-11T16:12:00.000-08:00

hippsville

just got a rough cut of the gilding video from alam.
our record comes out march 2, 2010.
Its all coming into place. Yes.

signal jamming

2009-12-08T13:13:00.000-08:00

what's the frequency, kenneth?

awesome. i wonder where these people are now.

suede nehru jacket

2009-12-02T00:15:00.000-08:00

awake despite an early wake-up call for our impromptu brother earth shoot. muppet shootout surprises... went to fao schwarz today with natalie to get her blue muppet she nicknamed "sunny" (in homage to the title track of the clip) at the muppet maker counter and whatnot. surprises in store... and unfortunately the hole that arthur arbit patched with red thread in my suede nehru jacket has ripped again. happy birthday, wolfy. i will be in touch tomorrow. we need actors. we will pay $20.

nat's new video

2009-11-30T17:03:00.000-08:00

she made the pitchfork top 40 of 2009 today! congrats!

you don't need peter laughner

2009-11-27T12:19:00.000-08:00

harvey

2009-11-26T12:31:00.000-08:00

Of Metropolitan and River Street in an Amber Light

2009-11-25T03:53:00.001-08:00

The tumbling black plastic deli bag,
a sad companion amid the twinkling
amber mercury lights, the cracked
pavement stones, rugged grass,
twirling barbed wire, all the signs
against me shouting silently,
“Dead End”, “End”, “Dead End”.

I take solace in the weeds,
the flora flowing, bursting from
the cracks, the ragged seams of
this concrete flower, this mute
layer of clay.

If so, the scorched earth goes,
what’s nature grows up from
asunder yet again, and quietly,
gracefully,

beyond our total ungraceful control.

2009-11-25T03:34:00.000-08:00

alone in nyc, 2004. snow falling in ridgewood, queens, in a misfit place with a misfit taken by the snow. a quiet strange street to place me in a temporary permanence. its a heart swell that brings me back to sweet bitter places, sorrel and the aftermath of samson. a sad sad aftermath place.

A Common Experience, but with Certain Particulars

2009-11-24T02:23:00.001-08:00

(for Keats)

Mists, for what they were, obscured dark blue
You were up there and saw
Somehow, the siege of death’s
Rancor, snow white noise
Crashing out of the inevitable
Body, pure spirit you
Still stranglehold sand like
An abstract thought
What you taught to the future
Means nothing to the past
It is a place
And all those things can be left
Behind a paperbound hall of visions
I sing all of them and want to
Know more, am yet nothing
But the Rosetta of that
Schoolyard girl’s bright image,
Helen in her living peak,
I am nothing, and all but
Nothing, we are brothers
And we are sisters.
It is a common experience,
But with certain particulars,
A tree by your window,
The sparrow pecking the Gravel.
We are each other
For a moment forever.

2009-11-22T03:50:00.000-08:00

THE COIN

Heads:
From a shawl of stars
They come, whistling
Sparks sifted through the black.
They are the beads of sweat
On God’s shoulders.

Tails:
No, though they are part
Of that spark, the film
That slices their time in
The dark, this ‘is’ is the
Nature where they reside.

Heads:
A constant becoming! A sprung
Clasp in the act of springing—
That is their nature! Is is
As will and also as does.

Tails:
And did. Fair enough. Though
We can agree, what value
Are we? And what of
Their ‘fate’?

Heads:
We are mute profit. Longing,
A talisman of becoming.

Tails:
And destruction. But still,
What of fate?

Heads:
We are the messenger
They will always shoot.

Tails:
Why?

Heads:
We are their power,
Though they bequeathed
It upon us. Inscribed
Their Gods and Heroes
On our faces. Chance
Controls both us and
Them, as does will.

Tails:
We are two
Things: both Gods to men
And pawns of them.

Heads:
We are pieces of earth
Hypnotized into revelry.

Tails:
Pure Grandeur. I do
Not believe we are
Subject to chance.
What is your answer?

Heads:
I disagree.

Tails:
In that case,
I win.

They're

2009-11-19T14:14:00.000-08:00

A clang upstairs, then quiet. Then
scowling muffles escalated chatter,
static shouts, knives from each other,
the couples’ black throats’ meter.
The hall’s decay.

Steps stop there;
clip back and forth
across the ceiling, austere ice
chip heels, Centaurs.

An imagined stare,
then silence, then sadness.
Denseness, the solid space of
a room.

Down here,
a cold white sun, winds of snow ice
rip the panes, the white-yellow beams
bashing like broomsticks,

And the demon in the parlor
drinks Chamomile tea.

2009-11-18T14:19:00.000-08:00

On Crossing into Manhattan

Brief sky, I am here now;
the living mouthpiece of
this toppled skyline, draped
encroaching from the shore
where retreats, pulses
the silent sights of clang,
myriad slit of lights and fog.

Bright morning! The dew and hushed
mist mix to make the silky mud.
I stand on this film of silky mud
and you are with me, I am
the beating heart, the happy
solemn contrast of being apart,
suspended, the sauntering jettison.

And from this vantage
I see that we walk on
the Earth at sort of an angle
of clamoring locations,
our unions, our silent bustle
twinkling infinite secret,
a tangle of garbled emotions
and away, the salt wind scoffs

Somewhere still, light glitters
on the cool sidewalks
between the parceled trees,

where we are your Atman all,
Walt Whitman. We are dirt and blood
walking around and talking to each other.

safari

2009-11-08T02:43:00.000-08:00

never saw this video before but damn its rad.
and what a great song.

bonus: i am now the proud owner of a macbook pro
equipped w/ CS4 and Finalcut Studio 3. Yes yes.

Maori punkin carvin party

2009-10-29T02:12:00.000-07:00

so had motocade from auckland stayin with me for cmj. amazing fellas, total mates. the whole lot of 'em, fun time all. will, eden, geordie - had a blast talkin about bein punished by the snookered geezers after shows. ok maybe i'm just makin up some new zealand lingo, but it was one hell of a time. geordie's last night we went to a random pumpkin carvin party which happened to be todd's by proxy of his Maori sistren Fiona and such....

of course the punkin party counted as a party a day party:

party a day yo

so like totally went with geordie to todd p's punkin carvin house chill party and ate some cookies and listened to some heavy sax and all that. went to eat delicious indian food at five star cafe in l.i.c. afterwards. fun times. i made a jack-0-lantern like a kitty and stuff. talked about e.l.o. and flying nun bands n shiz. kiwi luv.

things are getting interesting

2009-10-28T14:26:00.000-07:00

yes they are.

yr #37 have a look

2009-10-26T02:36:00.000-07:00

a short clip of violi...he was my thesis advisor at new school. what a guy:

and of course the idea of order at max fish 2005. actually not max fish, but the l.e.s. projects and some weird red bull party then at catherine and elizabeth's place later in greenpoint. for lisa carver's drugs are nice memoir. something i just found:

related videos. this one at royal oak. miles robinson at around 7:11:

a cloudy green tank the length of a whole childhood

2009-10-25T13:19:00.000-07:00

his name is steven too, and finally someone read my thoughts before i even had them.

always grey

2009-10-24T11:42:00.000-07:00

recently found this pic of ashley epps and i on the subway. must be winter 2005. presumably going to manhattan to party. the bad old days back when i was a shellshocked young lad. hard to believe i was 25. the first year in new york is always a bit romantic, as andrew bottomley once told me.

and how cool is this:

http://themannahattaproject.org/

also, thanks to holly for cluing me in on the best of the new modern dance. aszure barton and hoefesh schecter:

note: the gaga technique has nothing to do with the lady.

also, listen to science fiction by ornette coleman. "possibly the best music ever recorded. even if you aren't into jazz" - cory race

working a double today. i wish money was as abundant as ideas. or sadness. i'd be a trillionaire.

culture jammin'

2009-10-23T16:43:00.000-07:00

Caspar David Friedrich

2009-10-21T09:50:00.000-07:00

I think I've found a new hero in the tragedy of landscape and a renaissance man.

Poetry and Painting. Yes.

My new Macbook Pro arrives in the mail in 3 days. (((score!)))

W.

2009-10-20T12:28:00.000-07:00

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

2009-10-19T15:51:00.000-07:00

west branch

2009-10-17T08:19:00.000-07:00

halloween campout. i'm too cold.

in other news, i just bought a truck for $500.

inspiration

2009-10-15T17:47:00.000-07:00

::i want to live in this::

I have a new blog

2009-10-15T13:42:00.001-07:00

and this is it.

I don't know why I didn't start this sooner.
so...here's something from a year ago:

On Seeing You Perhaps Cross the Street Last Week

I can’t remember if it was a dream
or if it really happened, though it must
have - either way - the memory, a beam
of light in the shadowy reach of dust

like a snapshot taken, a candid spot
of time, a brash brushstroke on the canvas,
(I’ve been really busy lately), a dot
from the corner of my eye, the scene vast,

but you were there, darting across the street
before I could say hello, before chance
allowed us that small provenance to meet
in different terms, to see our world advance -

examine some small knickknacks on our shelves
and fling those few dynamics off ourselves.

and for this grey rainy day: