FAWMing over Vlad

The problem with this February Album Writing Month thing is it becomes stealthily addictive.

When I started I thought I'd just do one tune for a giggle.

Then I logged into it again the next day and found I'd received a comment.

What's the harm in doing another one I thought?

By day three I was worrying as I found myself composing a song in bed on my iPhone.

I didn't notice the little dial on the web site for a few days and then I realised it was tracking my progress towards 14 songs. And it even changed colour at the halfway point.

Now I'm at ten.

I'm slightly embarrassed about the latest one. I've left it over on the FAWM site but won't also post it here.

It's a sort of love song. But it's to someone else's love.

Vlad.

He's Debra's. And had to go away for a while.

Let's not get into gender politics here. I might have a slight variation on the name (with an 'ett', perhaps?) if I was really serious. And I know that Vlad is fully devoted to Debra in any case. In only the way that a real film camera can be.

But for those of you less versed in the seductive ways of photography, I thought I'd also reference the new work from Kim Boekbinder, who wrote 31 songs in a month last year and has just sprung a nice little live set from Zebulon.

Played on the sixth. Up as an album today.

more tales from the road

I spent several hours driving again today and whilst looking at the cars in front I couldn't help spotting some of the types that have been in the news recently.

It got me thinking about today's FAWM entry, which has a reference to the current bother being experienced by a couple of the global car firms.

My song takes a view on American cars, but of course in the UK we don't really get American cars in any quantity, the Fords and such like are made in Europe with corresponding styling.

I gather that there's routinely around 150 recall notices for cars issued in the UK every year and I must admit that I've had a few of them myself. Usually along the lines of "get the gimbal-splatchet-cogs checked at the next service".

So time for another composition.

Gotta get an american automobile
I just know how it will make me feel
those little “made in America” stickers
almost enough to wet my knickers
gotta get an American automobile

Not for me a car made in Japan
wobbly brakes and airbags bang
time to legislate to make a ban
Foreign cars should go to hang
gotta get an american automobile

gotta get an american automobile
something simple made of steel
lump of engine, no stick shift
gasoline powered, auto trunk lift
gotta get an american automobile

On second thoughts an SUV
or pickup truck with two TVs
Steel gun box and lights that flash
steel bull bars to survive a crash
gotta get an american automobile

Bring me cup holders, leatherette trim
Stark eurostyling just looks grim
gotta get an American automoblie
We need to ban those electro cars
We don’t need something made for mars
gotta get an American automobile.

dont put the cheese sandwich by the heater

Another 05:45 start as I headed out to the North East through what was supposed to be snow but turned out to be quite pleasant sunshine.

The lack of snow didn't stop a few people from skidding off the roads along the way though so the journey had its share of interruptions.

I was also caught unawares as I approached my destination and a whole extra road system seemed to have been introduced. I really need to update the DVD in my Sat-Nav.

I still made it to the meeting-place, having stopped along the way to take a conference call with Paris and on another occasion to buy a sandwich, which I later ate in the car park before heading inside for the meeting. Such a glamourous lifestyle.

Tonight I've arrived at a hotel which seems to have been built in anticipation of an emerging infrastructure. Its all shiny, but only overlooks a few tin sheds and car parks.

I decided to memorise the day in my latest FAWM (February is Album Writing Month) song.

motorway adventures in Wales

Been out on the road since dawn
m4 and m6 without a yawn
my sat-nav was working fine
'till I crossed that dividing line

as I drove into northern Wales
suddenly the big map fails
so I'm stuck by a parking lot
bad sense of direction is all I've got.

alone again in this hotel room
squish the teabag with a spoon

but I still had to go to my meet
had to find my way to the right street
even had to read a real map
thought the signposting around me was crap

I'd grabbed some food at a motorway stop
Some fuel, a sandwich and fizzy pop
I put the food in the passenger well
The heater was on so it fried to hell

Everything was plastic wrappered
I was tired, some might say knackered

alone again in this hotel room
squish the teabag with a spoon

alone again in this hotel room
squish the teabag with a spoon

(to fade)

you can be my vampire, if I can be your werewolf

Work is filling most of my available time at the moment, so the attempts to create tunes might need to take a back seat.

I'd wanted to get at least some of them with a splash of music, but events are conspiring against me, with the next two days on the road and next week already building into something with quite a lot of travel along the 'its Tuesday so it must be Brussels' kind of flavour.

So this punk tune is something of a rush job.

Y-Y-You can be my vampire
If I can be your werewolf
We can try to love each other
Till we both find out the truth.

I don’t understand the pecking order
I don’t understand your needs
Your lust for me ain’t human
Through everything it bleeds

Your otherworld attraction
is sucking at my heart

I see you in my mirror
I see your full moon stare
My instincts make me animal
Whilst for me you never care.

I can’t stake much on pleasure
My brains been locked away
You only think of punctures
Sharp teeth games you will play

My otherworld attraction
is gnawing at your heart

You got no feelings for me
Just for what will run inside
The wooden stake I’m holding
Will only make you hide

So I’ll scream and howl this evening
Its what makes me who I am
Don’t sucker me lost angel
Cos we’re both part of the damned.

elementary my dear Watson

Yesterday became a day for an extended pub lunch followed by a trip to the movies. We decided to see Sherlock Holmes, which did show some quite good scenes of 'London Town' during the time that Tower Bridge was being constructed.

The trailers were for various new monster movies with lots of CGI, but I actually thought some of the gryphons and so on looked rather wooden, despite the finest animation of 2010.

By comparison, the more understated mattes and composites in Sherlock Holmes created a rather more realistic impression of late 1800s London.

There was generally a good sense of 'place' in the movie, until near the end, when they left the Houses of Parliament and ran to the top of the Tower Bridge construction for the grand denouement. Quite a hike really, just to have the fight on the top of the box girders.

There's a similar moment in Bridget Jones, when she follows Mr Darcy through a snowstorm from the Globe in Borough Market to the place where he buys the diary., which looks like its by the Royal Exchange (maybe the Mont Blanc shop?).

I know its the movies, but these would both be Oyster card moments in today's world.

Maybe I'll write a song about it.

La dama puliendo el paso, por todo la calle real

A sort of ballad today, after being enticed by the Halfpenny Orchestra’s Mexican Loteria Challenge.

They dealt me the 3: La Dama - The lady.

So I'm finding myself in Mexico.

La dama

Sitting here in this Mexican dustbowl
Where every breath tastes of sand
A wild dog barks at nothing
Small bottle of cerveza in my hand.

She walks across the main street
Tight clothes and dark tanned skin
Small flash from her brown eyes
Feel the warm gaze reel me in.

Theres a rattle in the distance
Leather boots jump a broken wheel
I see him walking towards her
Desert cape and the click of steel

She’s walked across that main street
Puliendo el paso, por todo la calle real
She’s seen me with those brown eyes
la Dama tries to show me how she feels

He’s got a switchblade out his pocket
His eyes cut through the glare
His boot’s pace quickens
On la Dama he’s locked his stare

She’s running now on that main street
Heels crack and kick up dust
Her hair flows free behind her
As towards me her die is cast

My empty cerveza bottle
I grip tightly in my hand
No match for steely violence
No grace in this scorpion land

She’s run across behind me
Perfumed musk as her skin brushes past
A crash as he reaches the cantina
Then time slows down as he moves fast

La Dama has crossed that main street
First elegance then speed
Her lover is back in Durango
Full “Te quiero mucho” need

Sipping coffee here in this dustbowl
Where every breath tastes of sand
Another wild dog barks at nothing
Before I ride out of this desert land.

I suppose some Spanish guitar could work here.

Update : warning, I tried a mix for this one, complete with one-take faux American vocals. here. Oh dear.

Special Offer : collaborate : here's the tune and you have the lyrics - so sing the vocals - it can't be that difficult to do better than me...

fawm shop

Worryingly, I am thinking about recording some of them.

In the meantime, here's the old homage track created by the Christina Nott (bass!), Mel (keys) and rashbre (stuff) collaboration quite some time ago under the original band name of 'The Mad'.

Hmm : Fire, desire, Alright.

Asylum music with limited lyrics and overly loud guitar solos.

or click here to listen

...and I've just had another couple of titles come to me:

"Memory Effect" and

"You can be my vampire, if I can be your werewolf" which might include:

"I don't understand the pecking order
its gnawing at my heart.
A moonlit kiss is all it takes
no blood keeps us apart."

as a part of a chorus. It could be really bad. Wooo.

one card at a time

Alongside my diffident lyric writing attempts, I feel the need to praise maximum bob who is not only writing the lyrics (which are quite decent in any case) but then also getting them to the level of a published song.

Some are broadly accompanied on bass, keys and even a spot of background percussion, whilst others feature plain guitar. If you don't have time to listen through the entire set, then try songs 3 and 4 for an interesting sample.

Last year I also enjoyed Kim Boekbinder's January equivalent, which resulted in the little enjoyable album called "31" and right now Kim is raising money for a next album as theimpossiblegirl. Check her blog although the current marshmallow post is a tough one to read.

Meantime, I'm still a'scribbin'...

One card at a time

Drank champagne and tasted high life
Needed ways to be so bold
With sixteen year Jane we ran away
That rainy night, so cold.

First time in big city
Fell in with rackets, dips and screens,
Slept by bars in doorways
Cardboard home and limited means

So deal a card my brother
A royal from the pack
Flip it over gentle
Drink some bourbon from the sack

We consorted with the devil
Crooked streets you shouldn't go
Where knives and blood stripe on the cracks
Where only cheap wines flow

So deal a card my sister
A royal from the pack
Turn it over gentle
Drink some whisky from the sack

The last time it was good here
The full moon streaked the sky
We drew a line and danced alone
Said we’d make another try

So deal a card my lover
A royal from the pack
Turn me over gentle
Drink some bourbon from the sack

But you can’t step for ever on that devil’s tail
without him looking around
He’ll catch your eye ; you cannot blink
Then kiss you without a sound.

So deal a card my lover
A royal from the pack
Flip it on me gentle
Before you leave me in this sack

Nyah - and jukebox John - I'll need your help with this one for the Ribot guitar.

french kiss-off

Another evening on the tiles, finishing (oops) on Friday so I've had to back post this.

I'll tell more of that later, but my quick inspiration for tonight's dodgy song is also from the last Being Human episode that I watched, where the recently converted werewolf fled leaving a note for another.

I thought it would be better to move the action to a little town in France, and have a proper silent bust-up, where she just leaves in her little Citroen without any explanation.

Don’t expect much sense from me
My heart’s broken in two
She left without a warning
Like a swallow out she flew

No letter on the table
No lipstick mirrored cry
No bitter final argument
Couldn’t tell what made her fly

Her crazy little auto
It even had a name
No longer parked in front of here
She’s gone and it’s my shame.

No letter on the table
No lipstick mirrored why
No bitter final reasoning
Couldn’t tell what made her fly

The cobbled street we lived on
Had pretty tales to tell
But now it only reminds me
Of loneliness and hell.

Since I’m lost and brokenhearted
The world has flipped to grey
So everything tastes sour
On this broken breakup day.

The world has lost its meaning
My life is filled with pain
Can’t be sure I’ll ever trust now
My loss is all her gain

No letter on the table
No lipstick mirrored cry
No bitter final answers here
Couldn’t tell what made her fly.

So I’m lost without direction
My heart’s been torn in two
There’s a coldness creeping over me
Since the moment that she flew

No letter on the table
No lipstick mirrored cry
No bitter final answers here
Couldn’t tell what made her fly

I think this one needs a Bminor somewhere.
Elle a rompu avec lui, and maybe I need a break from this songwriting lark.

EST

I need to break this habit.

Bad songwriting.

This is day three.

I'm getting jitters. Yesterday, I wrote the song on my iPhone, whilst in bed after an oval-tabled dinner with a few colleagues.

Tonight I was supposed to be at another dinner, but it was cancelled, so I headed home and watched a couple of episodes of the excellent and twisty supernatural 'Being Human'.

I was doing fine for two episodes, but to avoid getting sucked into the next one I had to resist the brilliant trailer. The storyline had a gothic edge and plenty of hospital scenes.

Before I could stop myself, my next ten-minute cascade of ill formed words were dripping from my fingers.

You’ve always been high-voltage
You know how to rock the room
When you shimmy or eat sashimi
The boys around will swoon

We were a lot together
Your pink hair and green eyes
The clothes you wore you’d make your own
made every fashion a surprise.

Don’t turn yourself low voltage
Don’t let those bright lights dim
You’re better as conductor
Make new sparks not with him.

How he drove you to those aspirins
Doesn’t make me feel so strong
Gotta try to understand you now
What has happened, what went wrong?

So the ambulance attended
Paramedics did their thing
Could clean you but not fix you
Couldn’t fix a broken wing

So they’ve put you in this place now
With its white and wipe clean walls
They’re gonna put you thru high voltage
They say they’ll stop your anguished fall.

So you’ve always been high voltage
Know how to rock the place
I wanna see you be conductor now
Again your smiling face.

(EST = Electric Shock Therapy)
(when you shimmy or eat sashimi ...what was I thinking?)
A, D, E.

Triple A proportions

I thought I'd do another FAWM post in the form of a song, also related to some of today's news.
This one uses Em G and A and an occasional D (mainly).

Don't wanna be elected
Don't wanna be found out
The politicos just change their face
And make up rules to flout

It's disproportionate proportional
Triple A rated hot air
They all say anything they like
Self serving, they don't care

Forty-four thou-sand years
Repay a deficit reduction plan
So let's all adopt the position
Whilst we all go down the pan

It's disproportionate proportional
Triple A rated hot air
They all say anything they like
Opportunist, they don't care

So two months to election
Fill agenda up with noise
No-one's really listening now
Just more jobs for the boys

We're seeing the last embers
From a system crashed in flame
The parliament has run it's course
Looking for someone else to blame

It's disproportionate proportional
Triple A rated hot air
They all say anything they like
Forget truth they don't care

Sent from my iPhone

no more moonbase alpha

I was going to write a post about Obama cancelling investment in the Space Station on the Moon, but I wanted to have a go at that FAWM February Album Writing Month write a song a day thing as well and realised I didn't have time for both.

So I've combined them.

Useful chords for this are C, F and G.

No more moonbase alpha
No visits to the stars
No more walks on the milky way
No parking lots on Mars

I see twinkles in your eyes, babe
And the moonbeams in your hair
As you ride the sky to infinity
Make the universe so fair

But the bankers took the money
Politicians took the rope
They wrapped it up in a message
But it couldn’t give us hope

So the twinkles in your eyes, babe
And the starlight in your face
As you jet on to tomorrow
Fill the universe with grace.

Now I’m stranded here on Earthside
SInce they made that final call
No more rocket ships to outer space
Program terminated, fail.

P-P-P-P-Program
T-T-T-Terminated
Fail.

So the twinkles in your eyes, babe
You still speed across the sky
Make trails of silver star dust
Whilst I’m here unable to fly.

So the twinkles in your eyes, babe
And the moonbeams in your hair
You ride the sky to infinity
Make the heavens, oh so fair.


Perchance too much moonshine in the production of this?