Wow... what a week... what a month. Here is the fourth song of this adventure, once again it is absolutely different than any other song I have created... every week I seem to surprise myself with what comes out and I am always left with the feeling of "What was that?! And where did it come from?". Needless to say I love this song- I could pick it to pieces AND I love it. This has been one of the craziest and most rewarding months I have had in ages, I look forward to summarizing this first month's experience in a blog post that I will put together in the next few days.
Thanks again to you, the comments and love you’ve been sending my way are so welcomed and appreciated- Derek Rust, Syd, the Westres, the Monks, Matty Brown, Decline, Stewart, damn... you guys are gold. My fellow musicians and foragers of BOOM Egus, Nicole, and my beautiful constantly supportive wife Michelle... I love you all. Kind of overwhelmed with gratitude right now. LOVE. LOVE. LOVE.
Here is... THE JAR.
Title: The Jar
Length: 3:32
Lyrics:
It was morning, It was sunlight, It was ancient, It was godless,
It was holy, In the morning. In the morning.
In the morning, it was hopeless, It was perfect. In the morning,
It was coatless, It was worthless, It was blooming, It was boring.
In the morning, It was virgin, On the verge of, something certain,
It was morning. It was pregnant, It was pavement, In the morning,
In the morning, It was ocean, It was open, It was old friend,
It was oh hell lets overlook the pretence and dive head first...
I try to keep all my friends in a pub down the road,
Just beneath a light blub that needs changing.
The shadows afford me the space that I need just in case they find out that I’m crazy.
A pause in the song, a moments that’s gone,
The shadows escort me out quickly.
And take me to my prison cell...
I try to keep this old world in a jar at the back of the shed,
Where the children are ageing.
With the door on the shed pulled tightly and locked,
It can feel like that jar doesn’t change me.
I hear it at night, that chorus of trains, Charging in every direction.
to Take me to my prison cell...
So I can feel at home, this fire's alive,
it swallows the night and leaves me with nothing but comfort,
Try to cut through the flames and find that its pain
Is nothing much more than a sunburn,
I try to keep my own mind from itself
Cause a sheet and light can be so damn convincing,
There's no looking behind but the voice starts to shake anytime
that I turn and stop listening.
It screams and pushes the nails through the mirage
And I watch as the jaded emerges,
And takes me back to my Prison cell.
I try to keep all I love in a room with a view and a door that’s been broken for ages,
I check in when I can- face pressed on the glass that I built for its general safeness.
Smile and blow them a kiss
And try to pretend that there's something about this that is sacred,
And turn to walk back to my prison cell...
So I can feel at home, this fire's alive,
It swallows the night and leaves me with nothing but comfort,
Try to cut through the flames and find that its pain is nothing much more than a sunburn,
So burn me now, burn me now.
I tried to keep whole self in a jar.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Song #3: Eyes on the Ground
Title: Eyes on the Ground
Length: 3:58
Contributions: Jordan Dack on Vocals. Evan Westre on Guitar, Bass, and Piano. Michelle Dack and Nicole Monk on back-up vocals. Jordan Dack and Evan Westre on Suitcase Slapping, Door Knocking, Dryer Pounding, Nail Dropping, and Fireplace Hitting.
Lyrics:
Scrape off the tenderness and call it a sin,
Boy you better stay broken or you wont fit in.
Keep your eyes on the ground and your mind on God.
Squeeze in the back but ya better be heard,
And respect any voice that is louder than yours.
Keep your eyes on the ground and your mind on God.
One day soon you'll understand.
Hold still son while we make you a man,
Gonna press ya into product and present it to Sam.
Keep your eyes on the ground and your mind on god.
Find a female who can fill in your holes,
A good lover to support all the lies you’ve been told.
Keep your eyes on the ground and your mind on god.
We hold tight, we hold on,
We hold life, till the blood is gone.
I feel safe when the rope is strong,
The sweetest knots are better left undone.
Force out a child son give him your sight.
Make him hateful, make him fearful, make him right.
Keep your eyes on the ground and your mind on God.
Now work and keep working till its all that you know,
Till you cant help but push with your family at home.
Keep your eyes on the ground and your mind on God.
We hold tight, we hold on,
We hold life, till the blood is gone.
I feel safe when the rope is strong,
The sweetest knots are better left undone.
Clock out forever crawl away from the gears,
And thank god that you made it after all these years.
Keep your eyes on the ground and your mind on God
Now its time keep quite till the moment of death,
Close the curtains round the bed and savour the breath.
Keep your eyes on the ground and your mind on God.
We hold tight, we hold on,
We hold life, till the blood is gone.
I feel safe when the rope is strong,
The sweetest knots are better left undone.
Always on the run,
missing it some how,
The smudge of life...
Yesterday's upon me now.
Should I have said more,
Should I have chased less,
Should I have pulled the wings out from underneath the bed.
I did the best I could. I did what I was told.
They were just as scared as me, how was I to know?
I just held on for dear life and my dear life went cold-
With my eyes on the ground, and my mind on god
Oh god, oh god!
I held tight, I held on,
I held life, till the blood was gone.
But I felt so safe when the rope was strong,
I guess the sweetest knots are better left undone.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Song #2: Tattered Shoes
Here it is! I have so much to write about in terms of the creative adventure that I have been on this week, but for now... here is Tattered Shoes...
Title: Tattered Shoes
Length: 7:33
Contributions: Glorious Guitar, Out-of-the-ordinary Organ: Evan Westre. Back-up Angelic Vocals: Michelle Dack, Nicole Monk, and the Bohemian Behemeth Baritone: Evan Westre.
Lyrics:
This will be fine,
And holy and holy.
These tree's aren’t mine,
But they know me, they know me.
...Over the stones that are polished by feet,
Beyond the barracks where man and god meet.
Just past the pubs where they're lecturing peace like
"where did you go? Where did you go?"
streetlights are shattered and shrapnel's in bloom,
The stench of the madness. One boy. One room,
One. Window. One smile Cause Joy is something you choose.
(hands outstretched hold them there)
Catching the moment when moments are gone,
Bottled within these empty bottle songs,
Drink and dissolve cause "self" is something to lose.
Joy takes shape in many shadows,
While we point past and pray for joy.
Lay down slow on that bed of arrows,
And let they're passion be my choice.
Who said the raindrops weren’t supposed to make me smile,
And who said I may not want to get soaked for awhile.
I choose, I choose, the joy within these tattered shoes.
To laugh when all is lost and lost is all that’s left to lose.
I knew i knew i knew that face,
It was waiting for me outside of my hiding place.
Oh oh oh I knew that face.
Waiting for me.
Where have you been...
Last time I saw you walked through the room like a dream,
Through the front door and then out the back door seamlessly.
So I ran after you found myself in empty streets. I suppose...
you cant chase after something that never truly leaves.
I’m not interested, in the strand that makes up the seams,
Show me the space between that which we take and that which we...
Leave
I need to know how not to need anymore.
I need some paint, a canvas that’s blank, and ten thousand things more.
When this canvas is crowded with colors,
There's no space for a see d.
Let our hands paint holes with pink rubber,
And plant all that we need.
Someone once told me, try to be wise.
Keep your eyes open, there's no such thing as surprise.
Oh that blank moment's got me again,
Again I’ve got myself loaded.
What to believe when we see the back-door never opened.
So I'll leave your scent at the side of the road,
And I'll walk myself, all the way home.
No need for streetlights,
I’m walking with my eyes closed anyways.
Title: Tattered Shoes
Length: 7:33
Contributions: Glorious Guitar, Out-of-the-ordinary Organ: Evan Westre. Back-up Angelic Vocals: Michelle Dack, Nicole Monk, and the Bohemian Behemeth Baritone: Evan Westre.
Lyrics:
This will be fine,
And holy and holy.
These tree's aren’t mine,
But they know me, they know me.
...Over the stones that are polished by feet,
Beyond the barracks where man and god meet.
Just past the pubs where they're lecturing peace like
"where did you go? Where did you go?"
streetlights are shattered and shrapnel's in bloom,
The stench of the madness. One boy. One room,
One. Window. One smile Cause Joy is something you choose.
(hands outstretched hold them there)
Catching the moment when moments are gone,
Bottled within these empty bottle songs,
Drink and dissolve cause "self" is something to lose.
Joy takes shape in many shadows,
While we point past and pray for joy.
Lay down slow on that bed of arrows,
And let they're passion be my choice.
Who said the raindrops weren’t supposed to make me smile,
And who said I may not want to get soaked for awhile.
I choose, I choose, the joy within these tattered shoes.
To laugh when all is lost and lost is all that’s left to lose.
I knew i knew i knew that face,
It was waiting for me outside of my hiding place.
Oh oh oh I knew that face.
Waiting for me.
Where have you been...
Last time I saw you walked through the room like a dream,
Through the front door and then out the back door seamlessly.
So I ran after you found myself in empty streets. I suppose...
you cant chase after something that never truly leaves.
I’m not interested, in the strand that makes up the seams,
Show me the space between that which we take and that which we...
Leave
I need to know how not to need anymore.
I need some paint, a canvas that’s blank, and ten thousand things more.
When this canvas is crowded with colors,
There's no space for a see d.
Let our hands paint holes with pink rubber,
And plant all that we need.
Someone once told me, try to be wise.
Keep your eyes open, there's no such thing as surprise.
Oh that blank moment's got me again,
Again I’ve got myself loaded.
What to believe when we see the back-door never opened.
So I'll leave your scent at the side of the road,
And I'll walk myself, all the way home.
No need for streetlights,
I’m walking with my eyes closed anyways.
a few minutes too late...
Well... the song is uploading. I apologize for not being my committment, the song will be up and shared within the next few minutes. This is not to assume that anyone is huddled around their computer awaiting the next track (that would be great if you were!) but I said it would be posted by midnight and it will not be. Michelle, Nicole, Evan, and myself have been huddled around candle light, red wine, and condensor microphones for the last 2 hours laying the final back-up vocals on this EPIC track... we hope you love it. C'est bon!!!!
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Track 1: The Strange Ones
The first step on this 52 step journey has been completed and although I have definitely had some reservations about this first song I am so happy to have completed it! In fact I think it is safe to say that I actually like this song... not that like or dislike matters within this creative exercise!
It has already been such an educational experience- I got to watch myself as I bounced from one mind space to the next depending on what the voices within my head, and outside my head, had to say about the song. There was a time when Michelle, my wife, came in to my studio space to hear how it was coming along and I got the opportunity to watch as my own opinion of the song swung like a deranged pendulum in direct response to the look on her face as she listened. Then, when I shared it with my good friend Evan, I got to watch as my opinion changed yet again... he loved the song and ever since he told me this I haven’t been able to hear it as anything other than a great song! It really is amazing to watch this process and although it can seem petty and self conscious to be so attached to another’s opinion I believe that this is simply a human’s normal way of operating and to deny this is to place one mask upon another... I also realize that these chains and gags that hold me back are generally unconscious and exist within my blind spots... but sometimes, even if you are unable to see a boat that is in your blind spot, you may be able to catch a glimmer of sun reflecting off a ripple in the water, and observing and questioning that ripple will inevitably lead you to that boat and to a widening of your perspective. I guess that’s what this is about. I noticed something holding me back within the realm of music creation but I know that this is likely just the sun reflecting off a ripple in the water and if I pursue this microcosmic manifestation it will inevitably lead me to whatever holds me back in all areas of my life. Neat.
Well here its... The first song of many. I have never made a song that sounds anything like this... this is a good sign, I am already showing my inner critic who's boss! It probably goes without saying but please feel free to download the track, share it, etc.
Title: The Strange Ones
Length: 3:03
Lyrics:
Perfection you’ve bitch slapped my children,
The one with the limp is off crying in the kitchen.
And although I like the red rose on their cheeks,
I shudder to think how that rose came to be...
Perfection you’ve made just one shade of a human,
This beige looked so bold through your stardust illusion.
I glimpsed at the blueprints and saw the debris,
Forced in to acceptable homes by the sea.
And now I just shuffle along calling you helpful,
While prayers perish nightly at the point of your scalpel.
But he said there’s a crack,
Yes he said there’s a crack...
In everything, well here it is,
I’ve found a small weakness between the bricks.
So go head and let the light in,
And make sure to tell the strange ones where it is.
Back in the post war dream,
Covered in the cold from the ice upstream.
Got to be fast or they’ll notice the edge of the mask,
And they’ll see that the mask aint me.
Give me something genius baby,
Give me something real but crazy,
Give me Dylan in a pink Mercedes.
Now give me the opposite,
Fire all the architects,
Send that last prayer back down the oesophagus.
Try and live for the word,
Give to the poor,
Try to pretend that yer sure.
But the act is absurd,
More judges in my head than the skitz on third. Word.
It has already been such an educational experience- I got to watch myself as I bounced from one mind space to the next depending on what the voices within my head, and outside my head, had to say about the song. There was a time when Michelle, my wife, came in to my studio space to hear how it was coming along and I got the opportunity to watch as my own opinion of the song swung like a deranged pendulum in direct response to the look on her face as she listened. Then, when I shared it with my good friend Evan, I got to watch as my opinion changed yet again... he loved the song and ever since he told me this I haven’t been able to hear it as anything other than a great song! It really is amazing to watch this process and although it can seem petty and self conscious to be so attached to another’s opinion I believe that this is simply a human’s normal way of operating and to deny this is to place one mask upon another... I also realize that these chains and gags that hold me back are generally unconscious and exist within my blind spots... but sometimes, even if you are unable to see a boat that is in your blind spot, you may be able to catch a glimmer of sun reflecting off a ripple in the water, and observing and questioning that ripple will inevitably lead you to that boat and to a widening of your perspective. I guess that’s what this is about. I noticed something holding me back within the realm of music creation but I know that this is likely just the sun reflecting off a ripple in the water and if I pursue this microcosmic manifestation it will inevitably lead me to whatever holds me back in all areas of my life. Neat.
Well here its... The first song of many. I have never made a song that sounds anything like this... this is a good sign, I am already showing my inner critic who's boss! It probably goes without saying but please feel free to download the track, share it, etc.
Title: The Strange Ones
Length: 3:03
Lyrics:
Perfection you’ve bitch slapped my children,
The one with the limp is off crying in the kitchen.
And although I like the red rose on their cheeks,
I shudder to think how that rose came to be...
Perfection you’ve made just one shade of a human,
This beige looked so bold through your stardust illusion.
I glimpsed at the blueprints and saw the debris,
Forced in to acceptable homes by the sea.
And now I just shuffle along calling you helpful,
While prayers perish nightly at the point of your scalpel.
But he said there’s a crack,
Yes he said there’s a crack...
In everything, well here it is,
I’ve found a small weakness between the bricks.
So go head and let the light in,
And make sure to tell the strange ones where it is.
Back in the post war dream,
Covered in the cold from the ice upstream.
Got to be fast or they’ll notice the edge of the mask,
And they’ll see that the mask aint me.
Give me something genius baby,
Give me something real but crazy,
Give me Dylan in a pink Mercedes.
Now give me the opposite,
Fire all the architects,
Send that last prayer back down the oesophagus.
Try and live for the word,
Give to the poor,
Try to pretend that yer sure.
But the act is absurd,
More judges in my head than the skitz on third. Word.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Even Tougher Than I Thought...
First of all, thank you to everyone who emailed me or posted on this site- your words of encouragement are so beautiful and appreciated. It is so much easier to honor my committment when it is not only to myself but a committment I have made to you. Hmmm... perhaps easier is not the right word... I have not had the experience of any part of this being easy so far!
The time spent on the first song has been a nausiating collage of joy, frustration, and fear. I said I wanted to look the inner critic dead in the eye and sure enough we have been locked in a staring contest since day one. The voices in my head keep saying "at least the first has to be good, the rest can be crap but the first one HAS to be GOOD!". I keep thinking of who it is I have emailed about this committment and who is listening and who will like this line or that line or this style or that chord... I have wanted to delete this song so many times... I keep saying "this song is weird Jordan- no one's going to like it" and "why write 52 songs? what the hell is the point? you arent even trying to play shows anymore, or make a career out of this, why spend hours upon hours every week writing music that isnt even that good!!" The bottom line is this: my normal way of being would be to delete this song and never show it to anyone, in fact since I only wrote 3 songs last year, the math says that I will only be happy with 6% of the music I write this year... and yet I will be sharing 100% which means that 94% of the music I post here is music I would rather not share. But this is about honesty and this is about treating this life as the real deal, not a dress rehearal.
Anyways- I am almost done the first song and will have it recorded and posted on Sunday. It was not made to please anyone... it came out and I pressed record.
Listen to me haha so scared of disappointing anyone that I will try and convince you that the songs is crap even before I am done writing just so you wont get your hopes up... us humans are strange animals.
Love. Love. Love.
J
The time spent on the first song has been a nausiating collage of joy, frustration, and fear. I said I wanted to look the inner critic dead in the eye and sure enough we have been locked in a staring contest since day one. The voices in my head keep saying "at least the first has to be good, the rest can be crap but the first one HAS to be GOOD!". I keep thinking of who it is I have emailed about this committment and who is listening and who will like this line or that line or this style or that chord... I have wanted to delete this song so many times... I keep saying "this song is weird Jordan- no one's going to like it" and "why write 52 songs? what the hell is the point? you arent even trying to play shows anymore, or make a career out of this, why spend hours upon hours every week writing music that isnt even that good!!" The bottom line is this: my normal way of being would be to delete this song and never show it to anyone, in fact since I only wrote 3 songs last year, the math says that I will only be happy with 6% of the music I write this year... and yet I will be sharing 100% which means that 94% of the music I post here is music I would rather not share. But this is about honesty and this is about treating this life as the real deal, not a dress rehearal.
Anyways- I am almost done the first song and will have it recorded and posted on Sunday. It was not made to please anyone... it came out and I pressed record.
Listen to me haha so scared of disappointing anyone that I will try and convince you that the songs is crap even before I am done writing just so you wont get your hopes up... us humans are strange animals.
Love. Love. Love.
J
Saturday, January 1, 2011
The Strange Ones
Happy New Year! "New"... not to be confused with "improved" or "changed" or "fixed" this is a NEW year! A year created upon the back of nothingness forged from the void that vibrates in the belly of BOOM! This year I will dance on that void, create from that void, and if need be go mad from that void. This year I am committed to the BOOM!
It is from this vibration that I am making my first completely crazy and entirely unreasonable commitment...
I am committed to creating, recording, and posting one full song every week for the entirety of the year 2011.
I am what one would call a "perfectionist"... my inner critic does not only sit in the audience, jeering and throwing the occasional piece of rotten fruit, but can also be found backstage and in the lighting booth and in the heads of the producer, director, and every actor involved... my inner critic runs the show while I stand, in some darkened corner, cursing it all. I find myself taking imperceptibly small steps towards the exit, fleeing the temple that was once the source and alter of all my joy, now a house of mutiny. I imagine the twisted smiles drawn on the faces of my reflections as I begin to dissolve into the coal-black smudge of surrender. This is not their temple. This is not my temple. But I sure as hell am the custodian of this sacred space! So instead of dissolving entirely into that smudge, or taking some small and steady step forward and away from it, this year I am committed to leaping, soaring, and sprinting towards the heart of the temple and forcing myself to look the critic dead in the eye, console it like the scared child it is, and then create. Create in the face of it all. When obstacles arise I will create anyways, when the critic in my head sneers and says “that’s not good enough” I will create anyways, when I sit cursing myself for ever committing to something as ridiculous as creating a song a week I will create anyways, and even when the voices in my head recruit fears and insecurities from every pocket of my mind and stage a ruthless rebellion against my creativity... I will create anyways. There have been too many 3-line songs, too many scraps of poetry written for god and torn to pieces by the snivelling voices in my head. Enough. This is the year of the BOOM.
Logistically, I need to lay out some ground rules for myself so that I don’t sniff out the loopholes in this commitment and slip through them when my higher self is not looking.
1. Each song must be completed and posted by Sunday at midnight every week without exception.
2. Each song must be “complete” and not created as a rough-draft or something to be perfected down the road.
3. Each song must be a minimum of 2 minutes in length.
4. I will allow myself to use the scraps of songs or figments of ideas that I have tossed aside in the past as seeds for some weekly creations, however I will not use any song that I have already completed creating as one of my weekly creations.
5. I will recruit the creative assistance and collaboration of my good friends and fellow artists but their role will never go beyond one of collaboration and I will never use their contribution as a way to let my own creative self of the hook.
6. I will not let any “reason” get in the way of creation.
Thankfully I will not be taking this on alone, I have been blessed with an amazing friend and talented musician, Evan Westre, and a remarkable wife, Michelle Dack, who will be essential collaborators and indispensible allies on this adventure.
And that is my first blog entry. It is great to see that my inner critic has already visited during this entry and has tried to keep me from pursing even the description of my commitment to creativity- even now it is telling me to go over this blog entry and change the whole damn thing... I will not do this. BOOM.
Love you all.
J
Oh perfection.
You have bitch slapped my children.
And though I like the color on their skin,
I shudder to think how it got there.
Your microscope,
Your scalpel,
Incisions between the breaths.
Where are the strange ones
You have sentenced to early deaths?
It is from this vibration that I am making my first completely crazy and entirely unreasonable commitment...
I am committed to creating, recording, and posting one full song every week for the entirety of the year 2011.
I am what one would call a "perfectionist"... my inner critic does not only sit in the audience, jeering and throwing the occasional piece of rotten fruit, but can also be found backstage and in the lighting booth and in the heads of the producer, director, and every actor involved... my inner critic runs the show while I stand, in some darkened corner, cursing it all. I find myself taking imperceptibly small steps towards the exit, fleeing the temple that was once the source and alter of all my joy, now a house of mutiny. I imagine the twisted smiles drawn on the faces of my reflections as I begin to dissolve into the coal-black smudge of surrender. This is not their temple. This is not my temple. But I sure as hell am the custodian of this sacred space! So instead of dissolving entirely into that smudge, or taking some small and steady step forward and away from it, this year I am committed to leaping, soaring, and sprinting towards the heart of the temple and forcing myself to look the critic dead in the eye, console it like the scared child it is, and then create. Create in the face of it all. When obstacles arise I will create anyways, when the critic in my head sneers and says “that’s not good enough” I will create anyways, when I sit cursing myself for ever committing to something as ridiculous as creating a song a week I will create anyways, and even when the voices in my head recruit fears and insecurities from every pocket of my mind and stage a ruthless rebellion against my creativity... I will create anyways. There have been too many 3-line songs, too many scraps of poetry written for god and torn to pieces by the snivelling voices in my head. Enough. This is the year of the BOOM.
Logistically, I need to lay out some ground rules for myself so that I don’t sniff out the loopholes in this commitment and slip through them when my higher self is not looking.
1. Each song must be completed and posted by Sunday at midnight every week without exception.
2. Each song must be “complete” and not created as a rough-draft or something to be perfected down the road.
3. Each song must be a minimum of 2 minutes in length.
4. I will allow myself to use the scraps of songs or figments of ideas that I have tossed aside in the past as seeds for some weekly creations, however I will not use any song that I have already completed creating as one of my weekly creations.
5. I will recruit the creative assistance and collaboration of my good friends and fellow artists but their role will never go beyond one of collaboration and I will never use their contribution as a way to let my own creative self of the hook.
6. I will not let any “reason” get in the way of creation.
Thankfully I will not be taking this on alone, I have been blessed with an amazing friend and talented musician, Evan Westre, and a remarkable wife, Michelle Dack, who will be essential collaborators and indispensible allies on this adventure.
And that is my first blog entry. It is great to see that my inner critic has already visited during this entry and has tried to keep me from pursing even the description of my commitment to creativity- even now it is telling me to go over this blog entry and change the whole damn thing... I will not do this. BOOM.
Love you all.
J
Oh perfection.
You have bitch slapped my children.
And though I like the color on their skin,
I shudder to think how it got there.
Your microscope,
Your scalpel,
Incisions between the breaths.
Where are the strange ones
You have sentenced to early deaths?
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