Travelin'

I wrote this on a 23 hour flight.... 'nuff said.

Music & Lyrics by J. Copyrighted.

Tired Eyes

I wrote this for my wife for Valentine's Day. She waited seven years for her first V-day present, I think I've just bought myself seven more.

Music & Lyrics by J. Copyrighted.

Tonight: My first gig.

Stagefright. I've always been a sufferer. Whether it's the boardroom presentation or the musical performance, the stagefright never gets any less. It isn't the debilitating hug-the-toilet-bowl-two-hours-before-showtime-and-wretch-till-I-taste-stomach-lining stagefright, but I FEEL those butterflies aaaall day.

You'd think I'd get over it with age. I mean, once you're in your thirties, there's very little at risk. What am I afraid of? There's no more pride, glory, 'face', reputation or street cred to cling on to. I'm a grizzled, salt-n-peppered, married, father of one. What do I care what the audience thinks?

Maybe it's the perfectionist in me. That fear of fucking up. People are sitting there expecting to listen to something good (at best) or at the very least not to be subjected to auditory torture that drowns out their conversation. I've left bars where the music was too loud and too bad, the performers too ugly. Is it payback time with me at the receiving end?

It probably looks quite easy to the clueless. Get up there, plug in my guitar, play the same 4 chords for 3 sets, 45 minutes each. Never mind if I sound as bad as Dylan, as long as people appreciate me for being as deep as Dylan. But no. I want to be Ritchie Sambora. C. C. Deville. Eric Clapton. Mark Knopffler. And my personal God, Slash. So I gotta be creative. Quick fingerwork, soulful licks, heart-thumping rhythm. Problem is, the more intricate you get, the higher the chances of bombing.

And this is realtime. No calling a halt so you can do the chorus again. No going back and finding that note you lost on the solo. Once the string vibrates, it is done. You've given life to your creation. Into the pickups, down the cable, pre-amp, power amp, speakers, boom. Out there to be appreciated or scorned. Eliciting open-mouthed 'O's of wonder or turning the corners of lips downward in disgust.

So tonight is my first gig. It seems to be a day of firsts. A long time ago someone whose opinion I value very highly asked me when am I going to write something for myself, instead of just using other people's words.

Well, here it is.

Wish me luck. And hope my fingers don't slip.

Maybe someday your name will be in lights 

Saying, "Johnny B Goode Tonight"

                                        - Chuck Berry, "Johnny B Goode"

Is there really a difference?

An oft-recurring, overdone, superficial and dull theme in the genre of "Rock Ballad". It's got Slash on guitar, so I fucking love it.

I highly recommend the Slash/Myles Kennedy version recorded live in Stoke.

Take a look what are you seeing?

Is that a noose or a wedding band?

                                         - Slash's Snakepit, "Beggars & Hangers On"

Tom Waits. Need I say more?

It is almost impossible to pick a one-liner (or two-liner, really) from a Tom Waits song. The chaos of his music only makes sense when it's all glued together, creating a sense of unraveling reality the first time you listen to a track and then - as your soul recovers from the shock of being exposed to the output of his twisted mind - the feeling morphs into a combination of intellectual appreciation and emotional pleasure.

Referring to the war (in the Middle East, I presume):

How is it that the only ones responsible for making this mess,

Got their sorry asses stapled to a god damned desk

                                        - Tom Waits, "Hell Broke Luce"

Good advice for the pessimist

And I think you need

To stop following Misery's lead

                                        - Anna Nalick, "Shine"

A more accurate description of clergy I have yet to come across

Fussing and flapping in priestly black

Like a murder of crows

                                        - Sting, "All This Time"

Of COURSE It Was Her Fault!

How could you trust your private eyes, girl?

That's why you don't believe my lies

                                        - "Shut Up", Black Eyed Peas

Angst

Defined in the dictionary as:

a feeling of dread, anxiety or anguish.

Defined in music by the following. Note the need for both an anguish-filled voice and heart-breaking, gut-wrenching lyrics in equal parts:

I can't keep holding on

To what you've got

When all you've got is hurt

                                        - U2, "One"

And I don't know why you couldn't just stay with me

You couldn't stand to be near me when my face don't seem to wanna shine

'Cause it's a little bit dirty

                                        - Matchbox 20, "Push"

Oh my God, you can't believe, it's happening again

Your baby's gone and you're all alone and it looks like the end

                                        - Eagles, "Wasted Time" 

When it's good, then it's good, it's so good 'til it goes bad
'Til you're trying to find the you that you once had
I have heard myself cry, "Never again"
Broken down in agony just trying to find a friend
                                        - P!nk, "Sober"

If she ever tries to fucking leave again
Gonna tie her to the bed and set the house on fire
                                        - Eminem, "Love the Way You Lie"

Beautiful music, soulful voice & brilliant gutter lyrics.

What kind of fuckery are we?

Nowadays you don't mean dick to me

                                          - Amy Winehouse, "Me and Mr. Jones"

A musical genius who never lived long enough - and was never sober long enough - to tap her raw talent. May her tortured soul live in peace.

Then again, if she wasn't so tortured, would her music have been so brilliant?