I got this new song.
Titled Boredom Rock.
It's one of those songs
Where I tend to talk.
It's under 2 minutes
As in, not very long.
As in, it's a short song.
As in, I can't play it wrong.
And that's all I want to talk
About Boredom Rock.
(snaps in audience)
I altered the ending that added like another 5 minutes onto This is What We've Become so now it's back to its original 7 minutes. I terminated the last verse and coda completely which I didn't really like playing in the first place.
It creates the feeling of not getting back to where you started to and just leaving you in a completely different place from where you started. It makes you feel sorta stranded. I like it.
During the jam I created, I build up for a wicked long time from this quiet, slow section into a fast-paced section before slowing down again and delivering the extremely tacky line:
This is just an interlude
A sign that I can't get to you
A sign that I finally read
"The road ends here". (song ends abruptly)
I just made my own rendition of Float On. It's sorta weird, because it's on piano and it's just weird to do that song on a piano, but it works. The first half proceeds like the normal song, but then during the whole "Alright already..." part, I flip to swing-time and improv a little.
Sometimes you feel like writing something but then you don't know what to write. So then you start writing it, not knowing exactly what your putting on paper, but you're writing it anyways. And while you're writing it, you think that your writing has a topic when to others it has no rhyme or reason. And then when you finish writing it, you feel like keeping it, thinking that someday it might have some type of value that doesn't exist to you yet. The existence of the value of your writing is a far-off object, but its in your grasp at the same time. And when it's finally in your grasp, it falls out of your hand and you desperately try reaching for it again. And eventually you give up, possibly realizing that you can't find the point of the writing, or possibly feeling like your mind hasn't developed enough to figure out. If you feel the latter, then you try later on, reaching for that far-off in-your-grasp value, and you finally get it. And then you re-write it, with more feeling, realizing you now know what you're talking about. This can happen in a matter of seconds, or it can happen in a matter of years. You just have to find out for yourself.
...I've incorporated Stuck With Nowhere and threw in the main riff to Dramamine by Modest Mouse, all flowing smoothly.
Last time I clocked it, it was 12 minutes. It seems like whenever I finish playing it, I feel different than before I did. It makes me want to play it again, but my past experiences tell me that I shouldn't, because the more I play it the more I'll get sick of it.
12 minutes, if you put in perspective is only 5 minutes shorter than In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.
I sorta almost fall asleep playing it because I get so lost in it. Like, literally lost. As in, I have no idea where it goes next.
WE DIDN'T EVEN PLACE! It seems like all the good people that performed didn't win anything:
A couple of really good well-known rappers did this really good song that didn't win. (One of them even did a backflip, no hands). The other band that played, Human Hands, didn't win anything either and they even bribed the audience by suddenly switching from an indie song to a dark version of Candy Shop by 50 Cent, and throwing candy out in the audience. And then there were the two brothers, Kevin and Justin Goodwin, each doing their own song. While they received an immense amount of crowd support, they didn't win anything either.
The only good top 3 performance was a rap tribute to Derek Johnson. (Someone in our school who passed away last year.) It was made especially for the talent show and got a standing ovation by most people in the crowd, but it still only landed 2nd.
I didn't even think the other two in the top 3 would even place, an interpretive dancer and one of the billion singers that performed.
And now to us:
I thought we played the song perfectly. But afterwards, I realized that I messed up on one of the transitions (sweaty palms) and Ben later told me that he messed up some of the words. But nobody apparently even noticed this, so I really don't see what was wrong. I mean, people said stuff about how some instruments were way easier to hear than others from way up in the stands, but the judges were right next to us. We probably didn't place because of some stupid technicality.
Always next year...
(Hour before show)
Sorta nervous as hell. But I have a huge feeling that we're gonna do well. Maybe not first, but we're still gonna "rock the joint".
I'll say how we did either right after it or next day.
Yeah, the band's over. Well, Chris is sorta reforming them again but leaving me out of it, which I'm fine with. We're still all friends.
Anyways...
I felt like writing a poem-style type song. I heard the Black Angel's Death Song by The Velvet Underground and I wanted to do something like that. So I wrote this 7 minute epic of politics. It's definitely hands-down the most aggressive song I've ever written, with Brock-esque type yelling throughout most of it, me slamming on the piano almost nonsensically but rhythmically at the same time. And then there's this nice, calm ending.
Lyrics:
(quiet)
Well sometimes these kids need water to live
Sometimes they need a family to live
Sometimes they need friends to live
But this is all stuff that they'll never get
Got to go to work, be back at 5
Check the news to see if anyone's not alive
Eat all your food, and eat it all well
While the kids on the television live through imaginary hell.
They don't exist, existence in your mindset
You only seem to care about what you want next
A car, a TV, a million bucks,
And those kids can get run down by a school bus for all you care...
They're not there
For all you care
They're not there
Sometimes these kids need air to breathe
(LOUD!)
Temperature's rising, temperature's flaring
The media displays in red and neon grey
But you don't really care about tomorrow,
You only really care about today.
Oh and we sing...
Downwards.
Oh and I sing...
Uptown... the death machine roars, pumping out gases
While we watch the television and sit on our asses
Watch the pretty pictures, humor for the masses
While the death machine roars and pumps out its gases
For all you care
It's not there
For all you care
It's not there
Sometimes us kids need air to breathe
(Instrumental break)
War count's rising, war counts rising
And the number who want to go is slowly downsizing
President's in his lounge, slowly devising
His totalitarian plans while the war count's risin'
Those of us who care can only dream of better days!
Watch a homeless person get beat in the mall
Watch an old man get beat in the hall
Watch, watch, watch like it's nothing at all!
This is what we've become
This is what we've become
This is what we've become
(Coda)
Good god.
This is what we've become... good job.
This is what we've become... good job.
This is what we've become... good job.
Good god.
Good job.
It's a great song, but seeing as how loud and into it I can potentially get, I'll rarely be able to practice it at home. Whoo. Just re-typing that gets me pumped.
