Songwriting Confidential #10

I threw it on the table, my little demitasse of defiance; empty as soap, contrite as a lamp, I was disguised as a human, a boy with no antidotes for horrible dreams and stomach pains, no protection from a father who was two Brahma bulls incarnate, and then the whisperings began, ghostly voices with anemone hands fluxing and prodding me to turn my head towards the moon and imitate the wolf who prowled copiously beneath my ridiculous window, snarling "scream at the moom you little idiot, let Luna douse you with portents and fearlessness, for if you don't I will catch you and rip you bits to of shard and gristle and curse your ill tasting bones into eternity's dump yards". I moaned and vomited and ran insanely to the pawn shop and bought a 25 dollar guitar.

Songwriting Confidential #9


I love playing the guitar; as with anything one does we strive to get to that sweet spot where everything is in perfect harmony with the moment. Many times lately when I'm playing for an appreciative audience I can actually split myself in two so that one half of me is delivering the vocal message while the other half is observing what my fingers are playing. I can be singing a poignant line and be in awe of something my fingers just did that I'd never heard them do before; it's a trippy deal. This is the underlying reality of jazz, to be so familiar with your instrument and the music that whatever is taking place is always a total surprise and never to be played the same way twice so you never truly know what you gonna get. Just like playing music, we are to be as free and spontaneous in life with whatever it is we are doing, why, ? because then it's never "WORK" to coin an old Maynard Krebs line from the old 50's sitcom Dobbie Gillis". Spontaneous with Love, friendships, love making, whatever our passion is, to do it freely and unencumbered with no residue, nothing attached that shouldn't be there, baggage-less. It wasn't always this way for me, i had no teachers and had to strugggle with the guitar; for some years it was like breaking a wild horse, the thing just wouldn't do what I wanted it to..It made me crazy for some time, but then at a certain point it changed quite dramatically. When I realized that fighting with a guitar was futile and when I began to let the guitar " PLAY ME ", my days of struggle were over; and this is the revelation, Attacking life with a strong grip to get it to do what you want it too is not a peaceful existence, on the contrary, you be the guitar and let life play you,.WOW, when I realized that, life became a jazz opera, my songs became what they were supposed to become, my guitar playing became an entity of it's own without ME in the picture; LESS of ME, MORE of LIFE.

Songwriting Confidential #7

You know the special one you picture in your mind who you know so well, so intimately on so many levels, that when they do something or say something so provocatively innocent your immediately drenched in rivers of tenderness flooding through and over you wave after wave, A gypsy will ponder those delicate pangs of viceral adorence, close his or her eyes and write those songs of love into lines and rhymes so shatteringly passionate that anytime the gypsy sings that song they are overwhelmed by joyful tears. That song, written out of deep human love is a sword that swings a mighty slice into hearts that are barren and cold; they melt and eviscerate feelings of doom, hopelessness and despair..Songwriters worth their gift don't write love songs for the "Heck of it", they write them when they can no longer contain the depth of the love they feel, when it is so overpowering that the only release from it's crush is to string together those word pearls to form the perfect necklace of melody and verse that is a sacred testament, a holy scripture, eternal and forever expanding in it's own universe of the completeness and oneness of to whomever that gypsy's love is showered on..Songwriting is not a mere exercise of a bunch of tags and catch phrases, but more like painting a three or four minute Cistine Chapel.

Songwriting Confidential #4

Whats Confidential about songwriting?, Nothing !!,. songs are open doors into the slimy caves of stuff buried under hairy lava, old Desoto's, underpants of dead Popes, cans of caked Talc from the 20's, Geritol caps, old snafu napkins with lipstick traces, primitive suppository's made from Panda hair and plastic bunny ears, grave digger shovels, spicy olives from Wentworth, Albania, photos of old men with tufts of green back and belly folicles, endless periscopes of poems of debauchery and grifting, peering down into the unseen cellars of things hibernating and reptilian. Confidentiality only exists musically speaking when I confide in you that I don't have 15 cents on a Chinese dollar that I know or could tell you one bloody thing about writing a song, and after being involved in the creation of gobs of them it becomes more apparent over time that I am am a nincompoop to even suggest to myself that I could ever really write one; and I tell you this in complete and strict confidentiality...

Songwriting Confidential #3


If I'm "thinking" about writing a song it will never get written, or if it does, it will be a piece of crap, thought up, paltry and disingenuous even on the most sub-lower level boogie level. Morons can think up songs, anything can be "thought up" by those who think things up. Songs given to the writer in mad frenzy's of inspiration are the divine subliminal dreams of God which are received by those worthy conduits who are always poised ready to receive; poets, painters, and mad dreamers alike. Thinking up something and passing it off as a revelation is like trying to convince someone that dog poop is really steak tartare garnished with succulent herbs and spices. There are deep beautiful secrets out there waiting to be revealed to passionate caring artists and writers who will never get them because they are too busy running about trying to “ think up stuff “, stuff not even worthy of the time it takes to “think” it up. Why the country music industry is in such a state of preposterous idiocy is because these writers rooms on music row are filled with sad little devils sitting in crimped airless rooms trying to “Think up stuff” to ingratiate and pull one over on the poor listeners out there who have become so accustomed to garbage that they have become completely desensitized by whats being pounded into their skulls on a daily basis by these overproduced sad ass rock renditions of the LIE that has become country music; and please, no hats off to these barbie doll females who think they have to break glass with high pitched caterwauls to get your attention, that is not art, that is squawking and clucking. The music will never ascend if writers who write these disasters keep on “Thinking up stuff “. Until it’s finally realized only when you take “You“ out of the equation, when you dismiss the idea that “You” are a songwriter or whatever, and when you wait patiently and silently for the creative spirit to finally decide that your are worthy enough to impart a secret too, only then will you pierce the unknown and deliver a message that has never been heard before; only then will you step as an artist into the hall of the King of Kings…