Fade to 2011

As every December draws to a close, I try to think of a goal for the next year. Something challenging but doable. This year I can't think of a thing. There's the usual one, where I say I'll write at least four songs, but that's it.

I didn't even come close to achieving 2010's non-songwriting goal, which was to find Cinder Bridge's audience. I barely even tried. Little day-to-day tasks overwhelmed me. I've barely had time to practice, and I pushed any activities that didn't come with a clear roadmap off to the side, where they lay forgotten.

I haven't done anything to promote us. I haven't even been blogging regularly for the last four months.

Do I have nothing at all to show for 2010?

Feeling disheartened, I opened up GarageBand around 11 p.m. and loaded a song that Ron and I recorded in his living room. I've wanted to apply a fadeout to this song for some time, but kept procrastinating because I didn't know how to use the fadeout feature and GarageBand's help documentation looks like this:

To add a manual fade-in or fade-out:

Click the disclosure triangle in the track’s header, or, for the master track, choose Track > Show Master Track.

Choose the volume curve in the menu in the track’s header.

Add control points to the beginning of the volume curve for a fade-in, or to the end of the curve for a fade-out.

Move the control points to adjust the length and intensity of the fade-in or fade-out.

It doesn't look so hard until you actually try to do it, and then you discover that nothing in the interface looks like a disclosure triangle, and in fact you do not know what a disclosure triangle is, or why anybody would call something a disclosure triangle. Also, what is a volume curve, and how do you choose it? Who writes these things?

But I pressed on, because there was less than an hour left until midnight, and by god I was going to accomplish SOMETHING before 2010 was over.

One Google search for better directions later, followed by a little experimentation, and I had my fadeout.

So there you go, 2010. Don't say I never gave you anything.

Happy new year!

Soundtrack

"Thursday" by Asobi Seksu just started playing on Last.fm. I have no idea who Asobi Seksu is; I'd never heard of this band before. But the song is making me feel like I'm in a movie. It has that soundtrack vibe.

I should be doing some emotionally relevant activity while this is on. Something to signify that things are finally turning around, or that I've taken decisive action. The montage.

As the song draws closer to its conclusion, it sounds as though my personal plot, whatever it is, has reached some kind of resolution. Now the credits are rolling.

After another song that doesn't fit my mood, Mason Jennings' "Moon Sailing on the Water" starts up. I picture myself on a dock somewhere, head tilted slightly to the side, staring ahead, contemplating whatever events have brought me to this point.

Funny how certain music can make everything seem more relevant, more significant, more imbued with drama.

What songs make you feel like your life is a story worth telling?

* * *

Update: Somebody more well versed in Japanese than I am has informed me the Asobi Seksu is a band name, not the singer's name. I have fixed.

Rain Dance: An experiment in free association

Note: This post is a bit of an experiment in itself, offering a close and rather drawn-out look at what went into the writing of one song. I'm not sure how interesting it will be to anyone besides me and the person who inspired the post. Feel free to lightly skim all the lyrical drafts. They're not so much there to be scrutinized as to show how much they changed over time.

* * *

In my last post I talked about how my creative process doesn't involve a spontaneously dashed off first draft. I write slowly, editing as I go. By the time I've muscled my way through a full set of lyrics, it's very close to the final version.

This elicited the following comment from one of Cinder Bridge's biggest fans, whom I fondly refer to as "Dad":

I wonder if you should try an experiment: force yourself to write lyrics without editing, i.e. free associate, just to see where it gets you. If it results in junk, so be it. It will probably seem like jumping out of airplane in the dark without a parachute, except that you don't get hurt when you hit ground.

Well, Dad (and everybody else who's told me the same thing), I have tried this experiment before, with mixed results.

Nine years ago, I met somebody who always free-associated his first drafts. MJ referred to it as the projectile-vomiting method of songwriting. He would feel some feeling very deeply. In an effort to express his deep feeling, words would violently propel themselves from his head onto a piece of paper. Later, he would excavate the results to find a line or two that he wanted to keep.

I envied MJ's process. It was faster than mine and considerably less tortured.

Fast-forward to 2002. MJ threw a party at his place. Around 5 or 6 in the morning, after the crowd had thinned, MJ asked me, "Do you want to learn to write like I do?"

I was game. MJ sat me down at his computer and told me to write whatever. I stared at the screen. For inspiration, he typed in a nonsense line or two for me to follow up on. I stared at the screen.

"Just let it out," said MJ, standing over my shoulder. "Let it pour out."

"Um, you saying that makes me feel more inhibited, not less."

So the experiment seemed a dismal failure. But maybe a day or two later, while riding my bike home, words crept into my head as I thought about what MJ had said and the way he had said it. I went to my computer when I got inside and started typing. It wasn't exactly the projectile-vomiting method, but I was able to jot down some lines without worrying too much about whether they were good. They went like this:

Rain Dance (v1.0)

I don't know what to say to you
I don't know what you want from me
Anymore

I do not understand why you
Feel the need to make me
Just like you

Pour it out, pour it out
You're looking for the rain to fall
Bring it out, take it down
You're looking for a storm

I don't know how long it will be
Before you thnk it's time to just
Give up

I can't decide if I should try to
Run away and hide
Before you do

Pour it out, pour it out
You're looking for the rain to fall
Primal scream, mindless dream
You're waiting for the storm

I wait for you to speak to me
Instruct me on the way I
Need to be

So sure you're right the time is right
Someday soon I'm going to
Fall in line

Pour it out, pour it out
Impatiently look at the sky
Primal scream, mindless dream
You're waiting for the storm

Do your rain dance once again
Gesture towards the sky and then
Realize it's just not coming down

This was obviously not close to a finished project, and I didn't have a vocal melody yet, but it seemed like a good start. MJ liked it. Later on, I attempted a slightly expanded second draft. I'm pretty sure I didn't spend a whole lot of time on this one either.

Rain Dance (v1.1)

I don't know what to say to you
I don't know what you want from me
Anymore

I've tried to tell you how I feel
You won't believe it's real
Unless I cry

I do not understand why you
Feel the need to make me
Just like you

You want a grander gesture
Some proof that I will never
Say goodbye

CHORUS
You tell me
Pour it out, pour it out
Let it all hang down
You want the
Primal scream, fever dream
You're waiting on a storm

The lines on my face don't reveal
Whatever it is that you're
Looking for

[My words are not enough for you]
And you don't trust that I will
Tell you truth

CHORUS
I wait for you to speak to me
Instruct me on the way I
Need to be

So sure you're right the time is right
Someday soon I'm going to
Fall in line

If you don't understand by now
Then maybe you do not
Deserve to know

CHORUS
You beg me
Pour it out, pour it out
Impatiently look at the sky
Primal scream, fever dream
Still waiting on the storm

Do your rain dance once again
Gesture toward the sky and then
Realize it's just not coming down

Fast-forward to around 2005. Lying in bed one morning, I half dreamed, half daydreamed what I would write if I were in school and some teacher tried to make me write poetry (I suck at poetry) as a means of self-expression:

You say you want a better look
But do you know
But do you know
The time it took
To show you what you see

I wrote a second stanza to go along with that when I was fully awake, then forgot about it.

Maybe a year later, Ron the Drummer and I were fooling around with a piano riff I'd improvised. I liked it quite a lot, but had no idea what lyrics could go with it. Then I recalled my forgotten two stanzas.

I think this is also when I realized I could connect those stanzas to the "Rain Dance" chorus, though I may have figured that out back when I wrote them. At any rate, I finally started working seriously to put it all together.

I did not free associate. After scavenging what I could from "Rain Dance" v1.0 and v1.1, I went about my usual way of doing things—writing a line or two at a time, punctuated by long periods of no progress, editing all the while.

Here is a scratch recording of the finished song:

Rain Dance
lyrics by Susan Wenger
music by Susan Wenger & Ron Amistadi

You say you want a better look
But do you know
But do you know
The time it took
To show you what you see

My words alone don't satisfy
You wish to find
The place behind
A hazy sky
The deeper part of me

CHORUS
And you say
Pour it out, pour it out
Let it all come down
You want the primal scream
Fever dream
You're waiting on a storm


I speak to you a gentle breeze
Provided by
A butterfly
Whose subtleties
You fail to understand

My careful lines, they leave you cold
You do not get
The pace I let
The tale unfold
Hourglass and sand

CHORUS
And you say
Pour it out, pour it out
Let it all come down
You want the primal scream
Fever dream
You're waiting on a storm


I feel your fists upon the door
Demand your take
And try to break
Me open for
The mystery I contain

I won't allow your will be done
Give up the hunt
If you don't want
My sunshine
Then you don't deserve the rain


CHORUS
And you say
Pour it out, pour it out
Let it all come down
You want the primal scream
Fever dream
You're waiting on a storm

Pour it out, pour it out
Let it all come down
You want the primal scream
Fever dream
You're waiting on a storm

Pour it out, pour it out
Let it all come down
You want the primal scream
Fever dream
You're waiting on a storm

Pour it out, pour it out
Let it all come down
You want the primal scream
Fever dream
You're waiting on a storm

Do your rain dance once again
Gesture toward the sky and then
Realize it's just not coming down

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 2006 Cinder Bridge. All rights reserved.

Assessment

On the one hand, this experiment proved that free associating doesn't help me write more quickly. Eventually I have to abandon careless jottings and revert back to ponderous, studied crafting.

On the other hand, I've noticed that "Rain Dance" is different from a lot of my other songs. It's more impressionistic, heavier on imagery—which, interestingly enough, describes much of MJ's work. I suspect that this has something to do with the way I got the initial ideas down.

Maybe I'll try again if I find myself stuck in a rut.

Adequacy

Most people who dispense advice about songwriting—about any kind of writing, really—tell you to silence your inner critic while you create your first draft. Early criticism paralyzes you, they say. Get something down first. Edit later.

I don't work that way. I can't work that way. The Editor will not be repressed.

To be honest, I don't mind so much. It used to annoy me that I wrote more slowly than everyone else, but now I'm just thankful that the Editor exists. If I try out a terrible line, it jumps in to tell me how bad it is, keeping me from running down a dead end. If I I think up something innovative, something that expresses my idea perfectly, I hear it crow Yes! Bravo!

The Editor's nemesis is adequacy.

See, not every syllable can be brilliant. Sometimes you really do just need filler, a few words to get you from point A to point B. Don't get me wrong—even those words need to be held to a certain standard. My Editor will still protect me from producing work that isn't good enough. It only becomes confused when I present it with something that's ... good enough.

It rhymes, the Editor muses. It feels good to sing and listen to. It expresses the basic idea we're trying to get across. But is this really the best we can do?

That's where I stand with my latest. I've filled in all the blanks. I could sing it in public, and people wouldn't point and laugh. But there are one or two spots where I wonder, is this good, or just good enough?

I can't decide whether to declare it finished.

... before the dawn

Two things made me happy today.

The first was a blog post from Vincent Racaniello. Dr. Racaniello was the virologist who told the Chicago Tribune that four new papers on XMRV were "probably the beginning of the end" of XMRV and ME/CFS." In other words, he believed the latest research showed that XMRV had nothing to do with ME/CFS. Bad news for anyone hoping that XMRV research could lead to treatment for an as-yet incurable disease that causes unimaginable suffering.

Anyway, he changed his mind. After reading the papers more carefully ...

My conclusion is that these four papers point out how identification of XMRV from human specimens can be complicated by contamination, but they do not mean that previous studies were compromised.

Will the media report Dr. Racaniello's retraction and apology as widely as they did his initial assessment? Probably not. But you'd better believe that people in the ME/CFS community will be quoting him when new articles about the papers are published.

The second thing to make me happy was an interview in Nevada Newsmakers with Annette Whittemore and Judy Mikovitz. Interviewer Sam Shad asked the right questions, and they gave intelligent, articulate replies. Moreover, their delivery was perfect. They managed to discuss all the politics around ME/CFS without coming off to the casual viewer as paranoid conspiracy theorists. Believe me, that's not easy to do.

A heartfelt thank you to everyone above. You all made Tuesday a much better day than Monday.

Onward!

Always darkest ...

While idly scrolling through Facebook Monday morning, I encountered a number of links like this:

Study finds contamination in virus link to fatigue | Reuters

Scientists conclude mouse virus does not cause ME | Society |
The Guardian

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome is not caused by XMRV |
Wellcome Trust Blog

This looked bad. The headlines implied that some new discovery had invalidated all research linking ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis, aka "chronic fatigue syndrome") to a retrovirus. That contamination in the laboratory had skewed the results. Was it time to throw up our hands and look elsewhere for answers and possible treatments?

Eh. Not exactly. Despite the definitive tone of those headlines, and despite the researchers' bold claims, the latest studies only show that contamination is possible with a particular kind of test. They didn't refute the positive studies, which used four different methods of detection.

From Amy Dockser Marcus of the Wall Street Journal:

Robert A. Smith, a research assistant professor at University of Washington in Seattle who wrote a commentary in Retrovirology summarizing the studies ... said he is unwilling to state that the reported link between XMRV and CFS or prostate cancer is no longer viable.

The papers focus on various problems associated with a specific kind of test used to detect XMRV but does not examine every method used to detect XMRV. Smith pointed out that some of the previous papers on prostate cancer found XMRV integrated into the patients’ DNA and "I can’t come up with a mechanism where there would be contamination there.”

(Full story here.)

In other news, today marks the winter solstice—the shortest day of the year.

After today, bit by bit, the days grow longer and lighter.

Window of critiquability

"If you do bring a song, it would be more constructive to do one that's still in progress, as opposed to a song that's finished and set in stone."

So advised local singer/songwriter Duncan Stitt, who was hosting an open mic in which audience members critiqued the performers' original songs. I understood what he meant. It's difficult to tinker with a tune you finished ages ago. On the other hand, my latest song-in-progress contained long passages with lyrics yet unwritten. I'd have to sing "na na na" through half of it. It's one thing to ask your listeners for feedback on what's there, another to ask them what I should write.

The problem is, I'm not one of those songwriters who dashes off a first draft, then goes back and carefully edits. I rewrite as I go. If a word or a line doesn't sound right, I keep chipping away at it until it does. By the time I've filled in all the words, I've pretty much got the song the way I want it.

The optimal time for me to offer something up for critique is when it's just about finished, but I'm unsatisfied with one or two lines. That's not a very large window to work with.

I either need to change the way I write or become more open to messing with older songs.

Why holiday music doesn't have to suck, but usually will anyway

OK. I wouldn't mind if they played this holiday song in supermarkets and shopping malls.

Too bad they never will.

Not so much because it's a Hanukkah song and not a Christmas song. I think the world is ready for a tiny bit of religious diversity. No, the main thing it has going against it is that it's new. Says Jerry McWreath, who works for the consulting company that first talked radio stations into changing to all-Christmas formats over the holidays:

"We have found that listeners tend to prefer a core of classics titles, such as 'Winter Wonderland,' 'Silver Bells' and 'Let It Snow,' performed by various artists, as opposed to going deeper with more titles. These songs take listeners back to their childhood and their own positive memories. (The chosen song titles) are based on the research that we see nationwide conducted among radio listeners."

(Full article at Observer-Reporter.com.)

So unless Matisyahu, the Hasidic reggae musician who wrote "Miracle," can go back and time and get airplay for the song around 1950, he's out of luck.

Oh, dreidel dreidel dreidel

Just two weeks and five days before the Christmas music goes away.

Yeah, I know. A lot of people like it. They like it so much that they'll tune in to lite rock stations that play it 24 hours a day. I can change the station if I hear "Holly Jolly Christmas" on the radio, but there's no avoiding it when I venture into a supermarket or a shopping mall.

The one thing I'm eternally grateful for? That this hasn't happened with Hanukkah. While I have very fond memories of lighting the menorah with my family, adding the "The Dreidel Song" to the mix of holiday tunes would not improve matters. Trust me.

A lot of non-Christians grumble about how the whole Western world assumes everybody celebrates Christmas when December rolls around. I'm just happy that our relatively small numbers have kept us safe from the advertisers who would use our music to get us to buy their stuff.

* * *

Apologies to those of you who actually know "The Dreidel Song" and can't get it out of your head because of this post. If it's any consolation, it's stuck in mine now too.

ME/CFS and the Red Cross

From a Red Cross press release:

At present, there are no specific federal recommendations regarding deferral of individuals with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) or other diseases that have been associated with Murine Leukemia Virus-related virus (XMRV) infection. Nevertheless, in the interest of patient and donor safety, the American Red Cross will defer indefinitely any donor who reveals during the donor interview that they have been diagnosed with CFS.

'bout time. Of course, people who know they have ME/CFS probably haven't been giving blood in droves. Even if they weren't worried about transmitting the disease, blood donation isn't going to be much of a priority for those who feel like crap all the time.

The big concern is the healthy 4–7 percent of the population infected with XMRV or other MLVs. The vast majority of them don't know they're infected, and the Red Cross isn't yet testing for MLVs the way they do for HIV.

That's the next step.

Famine bad. Snow good.

Remember "Do They Know It's Christmas" by Band Aid? Written to raise money for famine relief in Ethiopia? Big hit in 1984 and trotted out every year thereafter?

Turns out Bob Geldof—who cowrote the song with Midge Ure—absolutely hates it now.

From the Daily Telegraph:

"I am responsible for two of the worst songs in history," [Geldof] said.

"The other one is We Are The World. Any day soon, I will go to the supermarket, head to the meat counter and it will be playing. Every f ... ing Christmas."

I have to say, I liked "Do They Know It's Christmas" when it first came out, and not just because most other Christmas music sucked by comparison. The song was catchy, had a satisfying build-up, and was chock full of protesty goodness. What wasn't to like?

Then I started listening more closely to the lyrics. In particular:

And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life

Even at the tender age of 15, this struck me as odd. Yes, there was much evil afoot in Ethiopia. Hundreds of thousands starving due to scarcity, indifference, bad government. But ... snow? A great injustice was being perpetrated on the Ethiopian people because there wouldn't be snow in Africa?

Still catchy and all, but that pretty much did it for my ability to take the song seriously.