Hello, my Wednesday Sister and Brother,
I was caught in a vice
In a dream I had last night
Every answer made black and white
And I shrunk in the weight of its size
I was the antichrist
You the archetype
And where you stood was holy ground
Cause that’s how I see you now
That’s how I see you now
This is how you’ll hear me
Carefully designed for us when I won’t speak
This is how I’ll hold it
Silently until it breaks or comes again
Oh, come again
Songwriting is not an easy process for me. I am by no means prolific. Songwriting is me staring at a hundred tiny pieces that I know, somehow, might fall perfectly into place – or may not. I’m staring into an abyss of endless possible sounds and words, trialing and erroring until I feel “the pocket” – when I know things have clicked. It’s very often arduous – not every time but a lot of the time. Instrumental compositions are easier for me – they flow and boil – they are more story and fact-within-fantasy based – they are secretive and privately/publicly self-interpretive. Songs are more naked because of the power of the Word: one of my favorite tools. But through the struggle comes the finish – when I am through it and can finally see. I have not been drawn to song write the past few months for a few reasons, and I’ve made room for that, but I’ve missed singing my own material, so…here we are. My brain still does the old why can’t I just write a good [insert any other genre here than a slow, acoustic song about feelings]? But let it flow, man, let it flow.
Topically, I’ve not only been struck lately with the power of the Stories We Tell Ourselves To Believe but the power of Stories About Others We Tell Ourselves To Believe. It is a truth I’ve found that memory is an unreliable narrator – it twists and changes at will. What I say Today will most certainly change Tomorrow – humans are an emotional feed of ins and outs and lefts and rights. It is these inconsistencies that make the meaning we search for in each other feel aimless and painful at times: But, you liked avocados yesterday! How could you forget this very important thing that happened to us? What do you mean you don’t remember I love pinball? I do believe, despite the initial feeling of the terrible absence these emotional inconsistencies can have, as the stories I tell myself to believe change for the better, so do I, and I am able to heal from loss or pain. And I know only I can really know and write my own story.
I don’t like hearing about other people’s dreams – with one special exception. But I had an amazing dream the other day which is partly where the first half of this song originated. I dreamt I was in my room, which is quite small. It was the very top space of a large house, which it is in real life. As I investigated, I found I could move my existing walls and furniture to reveal an enormous and vast attic space already filled with things I love which I’ve wanted – a record player, a light up globe of the world, shelves, lamps, a huge couch…they had been here the entire time – just beyond already existing and familiar surroundings. All I had to do was move things out of the way.
The second half of the song was written last year – I just couldn’t find its click no matter how I tried to work on it: nothing. So I held it up to its new brother, and they recognized each other.
It’s just short of two minutes. It’s possible it will get added to, but if not, I’m ok with it.
Of import: there is an amazing song called I am the Antichrist to you by Kishi Bashi.
GO LISTEN TO IT.