Love is a Four Letter Word

Had some daytime jamming today with the Guelph boys. They came down late last night and just left to make it home in time for Sunday dinner -- something that, for honest folk, isn't optional - or so they tell me.

We dug through some old songs, Magellen and the Worms, Red Flag, Safe and Warm -- listening to half done demos that showed promised but got shelved for other material. But it seems so wrong to punch into the old tapes and add new vocals or change the organ part. Music, at least for us, is such a changing thing, that it seems like doing a cover song. Now. . .

Hold on. . .

While writing this I had "Peja or Paul" -- a record I wrote for Peja (or Paul, if she, uh, you know, was someone different), on the stereo and a song called "love is a four letter word" came on, and damned if I wasn't drawn to the idea of recording it again.

See, there's the problem. Old stuff is easier. Writing new material is scary, and I don't have the time to spend with it that I've already spent with old songs.

Oh, hey, this is all part of the "post lots of crap on the blog" program leading up to the new records release.

Teachin' the Rock. . .

I teach music lessons 1 night a week out at the Dorian School of Music (www.dorianschoolofmusic.com, I think), and there's a sad reality to the job. Most of my students will give up. They will sell their instruments, or let them gather dust in their parents' basements.

But, the flip side is that they could stick to it, practice, have a great time, and live the dream.

The funny part is, I don't think I really have much say in what happens. I can show them a few techniques, and challenge them a bit with ideas, but there's not a lot of grey-area between self-motivated and slacker, between gifted and hopeless.

Where I end up, is just trying to let them have a good time. Music education can be as much about confidence building as it can about becoming a rock star. But don't tell my students -- I have high hopes.

519 Callin' . . .

I haven't talked much about this, mostly because I didn't want to jinx it. . . But things have been going well enough that I think I can share it with the 4 people who read this blog (hi sis!).

As some of you know, I started this frontman nonsense back in Guelph, with a group called (you guessed it) The Barn Flyz. I was playin' my indi-whathaveyou and they were playing their alt-rock-country-indi-whatever, and they needed a singer, and I got my first chance fronting a band.

I moved to Kingston after meeting/marrying (I think it was in the same day) my beautiful wife Sienna, and I tried to get the Barn Flyz to move down. Now, like the good farm boys that they are, they had to stay in Guelph and tend the fields. The kept sending me demos for songs, and I kept adding lyrics, and we did a few records "long distance".

My live bands came and went (mostly went), and just when I was thinking about throwing in the towel and becoming a banker or something, the phone rang.

The guys from the Barn Flyz wanted to make music again. And for the last 2 weeks, they've been driving back and forth from Guelph to write songs with me. The new record will be the first record with the LIVE Flyz on it since Free Soup for the Revolution.

Viva la Farm.

How the Go's Going. . .

Hello!

It's is damned cold in the studio today -- which is great, because you have to keep moving to stop from dying, and so shit gets done.

I think I finished recording the 3rd song today. It's called "Sucker Punch", and like the rest of the record, it's about heartache, revenge, and other stuff that sounds good accompanied by harmonicas and handclaps.

The record is tentatively called "songs for my seaweed girl".

Hey, look, a happy post! Hazahh!

Jay.

Sad Songs. . .

Quick post.

Acoustic songs going.

2 down, 8 to go.

Old songs being revisited, but likely cut, as energy always better on new stuff.

Hope you had a nice thanksgiving.