The Douchebag Songwriter Strikes Again!

Over the past few years, I've written songs with the intent of them being played by a band. Band songs sort of fall together organically, requiring a riff and a hook and the rest kid of takes care of itself.  But as a douchebag songwriter, I always strive for more deliberate melodies - as though I really meant it to sound like that.

About a week ago, I got a melody in my head. Often when songs come to me, I hear them played on other instruments but I ultimately translate it to guitar. This song I heard as a piano song and when I took a shot at doing it on guitar, it was both thin and difficult to play. I'm no pianist. I could pick out a tune if there was a gun to my head, but I don't spend any time practicing it. And any times I've recorded keyboards on my songs it's never been the primary instrument; more a noodly background buzz.

Anyhoo, this song simply has to be a piano song. Now I don't actually have a proper piano - just an electric wannabe. But for the purposes of this 'proof of concept' demo, it's sufficient. With a little rigging, I've put together a fairly listenable rendition of the noise I've had in my head for the past week:  



There's a few more parts I didn't have time to get together. I'll post the finished song whenever I get around to it. If you're interested, here's the lyrics. I tell the story of a hopeless lonely fella who sits in the bar night after night and, having given up any hope of finding companionship himself, has found a sense of superiority as he watches others on their desperate search for love:

Last Call

You see the weak and lonely ones

Their desperation entertains

You see them come and go and come

Just to go and come again

-

You see yourself above the fools

Far beyond the dirty ones

You keep your distance from their claws

Safe and sound alone

-

From the first round they escape the silent room

Until the last call

So they don’t leave cold back to their quiet tombs

Until the last call

They’re all so afraid

-

You hold your cards close to your chest

Trust withheld from everyone

So sure that they can’t comprehend

Not a glimpse for anyone

-

And still they circulate false smiles

Radiate their welcoming

To greet a wink with open arms

Open knees and hearts

-

From the first round they escape the silent room

Until the last call

So they don’t leave cold back to their quiet tombs

Until the last call

They’re all so afraid

-

When all is said and done you pack your things

Head back to your soft empire

Kept company by the judgments in your head

Cleanse your soul of old desires

-

Sometimes you call

She doesn’t speak

To reinforce

She’s strong/you’re weak

But not afraid…

-

I don’t need the want, I don’t need the pain

I don’t need the tears, I don’t need the shame

I don’t need disease, I don’t need the fear

I don’t need the risk, I don’t need it clear

I just need the one, the one who holds me in

The one who chains the doors, the one who won’t begin

To tell me that I’m wrong, or tell me that I’m small

Or make me insecure, when faced with the last call… 

Life In The Hive pt 2

I'm not going to post every single song on the Bees album, but there are a few standouts I'd like to share. And here's one: track 2 - This, My Cave.

Originally intended to be a mile-a-minute punk tune, This, My Cave has been reduced to its simplest form. The original riff played at quarter-speed on acoustic and lyrics written for shouting now set to something of a melody:



I think the lyrics are straight forward enough, not requiring much translation. But I will make a quick note:

After my Dad took off, he moved away to California.  I kept in fairly regular touch with Pops and even sent him a Bees tape to check out.  He called me after listening to it and was kinda bummed that there was a song where I said I hated him.  Here's the offending section:

I've got some friends
They live three thousand miles away
I don't see them until the weekend at Christmas when they stay


I'm feeling lonely
I'd rather be alone than live a day like them
I can't help but hate them
Empty circles filling up their brains
This, my cave


In fact, my intent here was actually to say "I've got nobody except some loved ones who, because of geography, I do not get to see as often as I would like to."  The rest is directed at (of course) those fucking Bees.

I explained this all to my Dad, but I don't think he believed me.