Zoinks, Indeed.
As part of my ‘Zen’ Victory Tour, I’ve made it my business to try and get this disc into the hands of those I appreciate. Some for their playing on the record and some just cause they have been longtime supporters of a prick like me.
And today, David Hogan. Guitar player. Singer and writer. WPKN programmer.. E-Bow genius. One of my oldest friends.
And within 15 minutes, were talking craft. Songwriting. Hooks and choruses and bears. Oh My. And as we got deeper into talking, scratching in the dirt of our personal peccadilloes, it dawned on me how much time has passed. Cause this is part of the ritual, the creation, the celebration of creating. Dave and I sit together and talk the business and whats next. Some discussion of old times (for those were fine times and tribute is required) and where the music business is going and where we are going with it.
For me, it’s an unburdening. It’s putting down the baggage I carried since conceiving of this record. Technological fears and real true heartbreak and will the Music Business exist in any form by the time its complete?
I respect Dave. Have you ever seen his Fun Box? It has anything you could need as a playing musician. This is a cat who pays dues daily. He’s valuable to me, because I’m not your usual musician. But the fact he admits to knowing me makes me feel closer to that mystical feeling.
And in discussing song writing, I said things that despite the fact I was unaware of them, they were true.
It has been easy for me to treat my gifts (songwriting) cheaply. It’s easy for me to write something that really moves me and then play it off like ‘what? that ole’ thing…?’. It’s easy for me to make the very Grimm statement that ‘My songs are my children’ with a wink.
I like to be funny. I like to make it look easy. Cause it’s not.
The reason I write is because I’m too cheap to seek therapy. The reason I write is to catalog real feelings in real time. So I know I am feeling them. The reason I write is alienation from just about every part of the human experience except Love and Peanut Butter cups.
I want Coke and Chicks, sure. But the real meat of the matter is I write so someone as fucked up and sad as I was can hear something that they can relate with and feel less alone. I can help…despite my best efforts.
It’s happened for me. Songs, written by someone you don’t know, maybe written years before you were born, I reach for when Im at my most alone.
It may be part of the reason I’m not into the Vinyl Fetish scene of records. Because music to me is a medical need. I can’t wait till I get home and put the record on. Stat, motherfucker.
And The Girl taught me this. She would ask if I knew I’d never make a dime, would I keep writing? And with a real bluster, I said of course not. I’d just write a book. And she looked disappointed.
That’s cause I was lying. But it took me years to recognize it. But She did.
How To Diagram A Human Heart 