Carthedic Writer's BD Rant

Songwriting, when done correctly, should conjure some sort of emotional reaction. It's the reason people listen in the first place. The fancy of the listener is subjective to the sort of reaction desired.

 

Case in point, I have a friend who works out to classical symphonic music. Personally, I prefer light NYC Hardcore (Propain), but that's what gets my "Ra, Ra, Fight, Fight," juices flowing. I don't work out as hard or as often as my friend, so maybe she knows something I don't.

 

When songwriting, the intention of the writer is less subjective. We typically know exactly what we are burying in metaphor. However, even though a writer can choose topic, when in full writing swing, the control of the process can get meditative pretty easily. I am a big supporter of letting it, for the sake of the song, the integrity of the process, and the honesty of the moment. Anyone who has written numerous works knows exactly what I am speaking of. I hear writers say it all the dayum time: the universe gifts them the song, they are only channeling it.

 

That is exactly how I feel when writing. It is an experience in creativity I would not trade for anything.

 

The issue, after the fact, is perception of the listener. I want to always remain fearless in creativity. Nay, I will always remain fearless and unapologetic. I'd rather be accused of being an honest asshole than a vanilla fluff artist. It's the reason I name drop. It's the reason I anything drop. It's the reason why my guts are left wide open for everyone to see. Let's be honest about it, anything I write might as well be about my life experiences, as I have no illusions or delusions about millions of fans or listeners. It's my story told the way I see fit. If one person gets it, that's good enough.

 

Understanding that we are not as important as maybe our fragile egos believe us to be is a hard lesson in humility, and one I find myself having to take forced refresher courses on frequently. I smh at others that don't. Arrogance can lead to greatness, but also isolation from reality. Humility may be a more enlightened path, but definitely less traveled. Hopefully there is a balance.

 

My karma seems to be a bit more instant lately. If I wrong someone, I am wronged in return 10 fold. If I force myself onto others with no regard to their piece of mind, someone is always in line to return the favor with passion.  Mostly: every time I find myself tearing others down to build myself up, I can't hide from the barrage of ignorant judgments flung back at me.

 

As I round the corner into my 42nd year on this planet, I hope to maybe rise above bad karma. Maybe judge a bit less? In the end, everything is happening exactly the way it should. Why shouldn't my impact be positive? On the same line, why shouldn't I expect positive impact from others?

 

In the middle of a bad night, I received a message on Words With Friends (a minor addiction lately) saying: "Thankful for you, my friend." Exactly what the doctor ordered and a perfect example of the little things in life that can lift someone up with no solicitation. Muy Bueno, AshAnne7. Selfless and beautiful.

 

One thing is definitely for sure, I will continue to write, that much is not up to me at all. What is up to me is what I write about, and the honesty of the process. By demons be driven on both fronts. I know no other way. Word.

 

Happy Thanksgiving. If you see me today, buy me a coffee.

 

Nago

Uber to see Iggy.

Last night I went to see the movie "Gimme Danger" at the small indie Harris Theater in downtown Pittsburgh. For a few blessed hours, shit didn't matter. That's how I know I liked the flick. The small screen and low sound volume was a plus, as all 20 people in the seats (capacity of 200) shared intimate moments of laughter together. Kinda rad.

I went alone, and in my life, that's not unusual. Not too many "vanillas" are in the know on things I may find mint. I got the feeling that the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust struggles to keep places like this alive. With 20 people at $8.00 a clip on a Friday night, how does one afford prime real-estate in Downtown Pittsburgh?

The movie itself was basically an extended "Behind the Music" chronicling Iggy and the Stooges from its 1967 conception to the Coachella reunion of '03 (and beyond). The art house treatment of the story sets it apart from the flare of an overproduced, hour long TV bit, which speaks perfectly for the band that influenced all that followed.

Iggy Pop has a flare for summoning great stories. His ability to recreate moments with words are equal parts funny and graceful. He is a true individual spirit on this planet of sheep. 10 minutes into the Stooges story, Iggy throws out a reference to the songwriting process that hit me hard. He says his lyrical approach was meant to be the opposite of Bob Dylan's "blah, blah, blah." His approach was 25 words or less for each Stooges song. The "Keep It Simple, Stupid" rule in its purest form.

As a songwriter, I never paid attention to word count. I know me, and now and forever, I will. That doesn't mean I will adjust the count, but I'll always count.

Ok, the fun takeaway.  You know the pic of Iggy standing on the crowd from the late '60's (see above pic)? As I watched the footage, iconic rock images popped into my head. I've decided to hunt them down and make a Rock wall in my game room. A few early contenders for the Nago Icon wall:

I'm sure there's more... I'm open to suggestions. The Joan Jett pic is an old favorite I'm putting back into rotation, stat.

Support underground stuff, please. True art is not some manufactured Idol rubbish mass produced and fed to the population at large. If you are reading this, you already know that.

May all your favorite bands stay together. - Dawes

Nago

Grace is gone...

A week ago, I was sent a link to a Dave Mathews song that I was unaware of. The song is beautiful, and I was moved by the emotion in the vocal. It's a song about dying I think, but metaphorically I find a complete other meaning in it's lyric. In my mind, it’s a place I have been, and it’s definitely relatable, even more recently than I care to admit to the world. It’s funny how impactful brief moments can be, and how much regret can be stirred up in short amounts of time. Dave captured the sadness in a very eloquent way, even though I don’t necessarily subscribe to drinking away a problem (in my experience, I’ve never solved a single issue drinking, only created more… I digress), it's the romanticism of the theme that makes the message powerful.

Interestingly enough, had it not been recommended to me, I never would have heard it. I basically don’t follow Dave Mathews at all for the most part. It’s nothing personal, and I know he is great, it’s just never been my cup of tea. However, I do have a Dave Mathews story:

On June 2^rd of 2015. I was sitting at an Outback with a (former) co-worker just south of Montgomery, Alabama. It was early, like 5:00 PM or so, we were bored, and still had two nights to go on the work trip.

Now, I have been known to go out on occasion, and when traveling I have my Song Kick app on standby just in case. I pop the app open, and it turns out that Dave Mathews is playing 2 hours away in Tuscaloosa the next night. We buy tickets and go… Dave Mathews just happened to be one of his favorite artists, and I figured “why not?”

So, 26 hours later I find myself at an outdoor amphitheater watching Dave Mathews play 2 sets. 1 acoustic, and one electric. Right away I was stoked because Emma Lou Harris was there that night, and came out with Dave during both sets, beyond that, I knew basically nothing they played.

It was a “deep cut” tour for the hardcore fans (I’m paraphrasing here), but definitely not designed for the fair weather. Keep in mind I was at this show with a huge fanboy. He wanted to be in the mix on the floor as close as possible. I didn’t last down there long.

So I wandered. I met a few people, had some interesting conversations and just generally enjoyed the Alabama late spring night with Dave Mathews blaring in the background. I may have actually blogged about the Misfits while in attendance at the show (ok, I absolutely blogged about the Misfits while attending the show – here is the link: http://nerdyrocksnob.blogspot.com/2015/06/island-of-misfit-toys.html )

From there the story gets dumb. I dropped my wallet in the parking lot. I have been using a front pocket wallet for a few years now, and this one had a broken clip. I realized that I dropped it when we got back to Montgomery, and made my co-worker drive back to the venue (over 2 hours away) to fetch it. He reluctantly did so, and I found it. By the time we got back to Montgomery, it was well after 4AM.

Getting back to the song. It’s moving and lyrically perfect. On first listen I felt my chest sink. That’s a good sign (being a big damn softie most of the time and all). The third time I heard it, the song was played for me solo by a new (and already dear) friend, and her delivery broke my heart. The intimacy of the song cut right through me. Again, the theme of the song is a familiar place better left behind when interpreted a certain way.

There is a grace in life. Sometimes people have an impact beyond their intention, even if the impact is taking away grace for a moment. I've regrettably done it to others as well. Life isn't perfect, I hope to give more than I take daily. That's the target condition. 

Nago

80's is Crazies

Allow me to explain and indulge my crazy for a minute.

I struggle with 80's music, not because I don't love it, because there's too much to love.

Growing up, Heavy Metal was my muse. First show was Bon Jovi in 1986. I was 11. It all went down hill from there. Hair led to Thrash and eventually to a 41 year old man heavily spinning Allegaeon like he discovered something all his own. It's the curse of growing up Metal, its not too far away at any given time, and deservingly so.

BUT, as an child of the 80's, and a argumentatively intelligent adult, I appreciate much more of the decade than just the \,,/ obsession of my youth. From early Rap, Brit Pop, Alternative, Hardcore, Top 40, Dance Music, etc... The decade was pretty badass.

Now, as a guy who plays and sings, something I've always struggled with is finding a perfect cover song from the 80's. I would have loved to have found some magic bullet song for my band, Domicile, to cover, even though we definitely did "Ace of Spades" justice, I wanted to find that diamond in the rough song to blow people away. Case in point, years before Disturbed covered "Land of Confusion," a local Cleveland band did it during a sound check at a Domicile show they were booked to open, and we stood in awe. We also stood in fear of having to follow a band that good. I don't remember their name... Sorry (not sorry), I'm sure Louie has their name locked into his head. I digress.

Recently, I've been playing some acoustic stuff with very talented people here in Pittsburgh, and my mind is headed back to that same old "gotta find something special from the 80's" way of thinking. I have a few I'm messing with, but they are relative cheese meant to only entertain. "Stray Cat Strut," "8675309 Jenny" and possibly a few others are easy enough and probably crowd pleasers, but wouldn't it be cool to play something like "Mad World" to a group of people that never heard it before? Maybe get one of those percussion boxes, a looper pedal and figure out a rudimentary version of a New Order tune?

That's indulging my inner nerd. Let's get back to my crazy 80's:

First #1 song of the decade: KC and the Sunshine Band / Please Don't Go (Jan 5th 1980)

Last #1 song of the decade: Phil Collins / Another Day in Paradise (Dec 30th 1989)

Wow, that's pathetic. What a shite way to begin and end the decade. Let me pic another song from each year that better reps the street, yo:

#1 Song on my Birthday, 1980: Lady / Kenny Rogers

#1 Song on my Birthday, 1989: Blame it on the Rain / Milli Vanilli 

WORD UP!!! Much better. That is a good representation of a crazy time on this planet. 

A Jazz Singer, turned country, singing a song about being a "knight in shining armor" (cliche) to the object of his obsession. This song (penned by Lionel Richie) was so good and destined for greatness, Kenny released it off his "Greatest Hits" LP as a single that never did appear on any actual LP before it. 

AND

A fake band, stripped of Grammy's, ridiculed, tarred and feathered by the masses.

Yup, that's my '80's, and the end of this nonsensical blog. I'm going to nuke a Micro Magic Milkshake and cry over Heart's "Alone."

Forgive those who trespass against you, especially if its me.

Nago