DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE
Emily Factoid #456: Sometimes when I do a song I like to keep the headphones on as I type so the mic can pick up the clicking of the keys. That’s what’s happening right now as I’m typing. Okay. Stopping. Now.
I had a friend once a long time ago who was very wonderfully strange. My other friends never really got to meet her because I didn’t know her for very long… a friend-summer romance… you know those? The friendships that come at you like a bowling ball and then leave you like Danica Patrick at NASCAR. In any case, it was a huge impact on me, and I still think of her from time to time, and she shows up in my songs every now and then.
This is a sketch of her that I need to make longer and revisit with a bridge. I call her Edie because, unrelated to my friend, I knew a really awesome-kinda-crazy-awesome lady named Edie once: she always wore sunglasses, even inside buildings, and fashioned every day for herself an enormous beehive hair-do. Oh, Edie…I liked Edie.
Lyrics are based on a word salad technique I got from Jocelyn: mainly improvisatory. I have been listening to war-era radio recently. I heard a song the other day that was a repetitive call and response sort of… I can’t remember the song, but the genre was heavily used in the kind of new “pop-folk” that was integrating the scene at the time.
This is first take! Why worry about it!? Bless you, my child; hope your day is fantastical!
Edie Disappearing