A number of years ago, I wrote and recorded an original song with my friend, John Graiff, called A Gift Of Peace (for Christmas) and each year, I work on different remix versions. This year, I took the huge collection of music stem files (the individual tracks) and began tinkering with some of them, moving things around. The result is this year’s version of the original, entitled Sing A Song Of Peace (To The World).
My intention each year is to keep the song fresh for me and to challenge myself to approach the song from different angles, such as the hip hop version or the classical version. And always, I hope that it points back to the original version, which John and I are proud of (and to the video, which my eldest son produced when he was in college).
I’ve now added it into my YouTube Playlist that has the original video, plus assorted remixes.
This version of a Christmas song (Gift of Peace) that my friend and I wrote is a sort of an acoustic remix from last year, recorded on the Winter Solstice with some friends of mine. I am working on a new remix for this year, too. (Making remixes is something I do with the song each year, if I can).
I’ve been working on a new song, with hopes of introducing it to a few friends of mine who have started playing together, a little bit. This song has some abrupt music changes, so we’ll see if it even works. The image shows my madness, as visual, as I am often scribbling words and reminders, as I hold my guitar, working out chords and rhythms.
I wrote a collection of new songs since January and then recorded them, and released them as the album on Bandcamp: Living In The Static. It’s free to listen, if curious.
Here’s a new song that I’ve been working on. It started when I hit an accidental chord on my guitar and then thought, hey, wait a second, and the song unfolded pretty quickly from there.
I’ve been trying to get myself into a regular routine again of writing songs, and taking any kernel of something to the next steps, of demo recording and maybe making a video to go with it. This one — Constellations (Moments Left Behind) — might still need some work but I like the way I am trying to use constellation stories as a way to frame our own experiences. I think it sort of works.
Much of 2023, I wasn’t writing much on my guitar. I did other music projects (like my In An Otherwise Odd Worldelectronic music collection) but not much in terms of sitting down, with pen and paper, and finding chords, and writing something new. It wasn’t Writers Block, necessarily – just uninspired.
Then 2024 rolls around, and I have three new songs underway.
This one is the first — You Couldn’t Lose Me Now (If You Tried) — and I decided to go further on it than a simple demo, as I recorded many parts, and it felt pretty good (except for some vocal parts that just eluded me, and I still cringe at those moments, which I sort of covered up with some other sounds. My vocal range is small.)
I felt creative throughout the entire process — from the first sparks of the music and lyrics, to how it ended up — and I was grateful for the Muse to be sitting there with me, for a bit.
My lyric sheets were an adventure, though, and periodically, I track my writing process from initial writing to revision to final.
After the song was done, I decided to create an animated text video with the lyrics in Keynote. I was reminded of how difficult and how long it takes to sync words to sound in a project like this. But, overall, I am happy with how the video came out.
A friend of mine and I have both just finished a fantastic book about the making of the album, Nebraska, by Bruce Springsteen. Deliver Me From Nowhere by Warren Zanes is a deep dive and fascinating look into how the songs — recorded as demos and later released as they were — emerged from Springsteen’s self-imposed period of isolation after The River came out and before Born In The USA would make him a global pop star.
My friend asked about my thoughts, and this is what I wrote:
First, I have a new appreciation for Jon Landau. I’ve always considered him an extra part, someone who only wanted the hits and pushed Bruce in that direction. The book shows a more nuanced look at him, as a friend to Bruce and confidant. It’s key when Landau knows the tracks they recorded for what will become Born in USA are hits but then allows Bruce to shelve them for more than a year as he deals with what will become Nebraska. Landau seems to be the one friend that Bruce could turn to during that dark time.
Second, the response from the record company to Nebraska surprised me. I thought there would be push-back to the album, and its dark themes and raw recordings. Surprisingly, they could see the larger picture of an artist’s trajectory. I don’t think this happens anymore in the music field, where an artist is given creative space to do what they need to do.
Third, I was fascinated by the technical challenges of moving from the TEAC master cassette mix to something the record company could make and sell. They were in this moment of technology in the music studios, and the old equipment wouldn’t talk to the new. The frustrations that Bruce and his team had were interesting, and yet, Bruce kept on. He didn’t give up. He had that vision, and his people saw it through. I also kept thinking: if he loses that cassette tape he carried around in his pocket … or if the TEAC goes kaput …
Fourth, I didn’t know that Mike Batlan, his engineer, was always on the bedroom with him, a sort of corner technician, watching Bruce record. I would love to hear his story of the experience, and how he saw Nebraska unfold from inside the room but outside the creative art itself. I have had this vision of Bruce, alone, but he wasn’t alone. Mike was there.
Fifth, I know Nebraska was influential, of course, but the book really pulls back to look at how it completely reshaped the music landscape, making home recording not just a place for demos, but as a way to make albums, start to finish. It’s as much TEAC as TASCAM, too, but for musicians in the field, hearing what Bruce did and actually released, jumpstarted an entire world of music making that continues to this day (I am thinking of watching my son produce albums and release them on streaming services right from his seat at our dinner table over the years).
