I’ve written another handful:
but the real treat is that my two girls collaborated on one, and we can actually hear the Little One singing: Sister.
Tomorrow begins a month-long exercise in artistic immersion.
I’ve been participating in February Album Writing Month (FAWM) since 2006, making this my 13th year. (I missed the first year it went public, but I’m still one of the Old Folks in the forums.) Nearly every song I’ve ever written has been born in February. For a while I wrote throughout the year, partly because I couldn’t afford to shut down all my other activities during February.
It wasn’t the same, though. Writing three songs in a week isn’t the same depth of immersion as writing 14 (or 30, like last year) in 28 days. Now that my schedule allows it (thanks to Best Beloved who loves my art) I’m back to diving in unrestrained.
Except tomorrow, when we’ll be taking the Little One to Tucson to spend a few days with her sister. But I’ll bet I can write a song on the drive. Maybe she’ll even play the ukulele while I record it.
Every February since 2006 I’ve participated in February Album Writing Month. (I joined up during FAWM’s 3rd year.) While I do sometimes write songs during other months, the bulk of my nearly 200 songs have been written during these episodes of shared mania.
Hundreds of participants commit to writing a full album, 14 songs, of new material during the 28 days of the month. Sort of a NaNoWriMo for songwriters, though with less emphasis on embracing low quality; it’s more like accepting it without actively chasing it.
Some of my very favorite music has been written by my fellow FAWMers during this month of madness. Here are four examples:
Whether or not the styles are your cup of tea, the songwriting is as good as most of what you hear on the radio or elsewhere. Better, I think.
I’m still working on making better recordings, which these chaps have mastered. But I’m proud of my lyrics, confident in my songwriting.
And ready for February.
After more than a decade writing music, I’m slowly putting all my demos online. There are more than 2 dozen already live at http://tunehenge.com (that’s out of 30 I wrote in February of this year, 2017.)
Eventually I plan to have all the demos worth listening to at tunehenge. Some of my demos are purely experimental or for my own fun. Trust me, you’re missing nothing. There are still more than 100 songs I’ve written and recorded rough demos for that’ll end up at tunehenge.
Continue reading “My Music Website”
Every year I spend some time in February mixing with the folks over at February Album Writing Month.
Every year, I notice that stretching to do more creative work makes me even more creative. It fires up things in my brain I forgot were there. It dredges up old feelings and new thoughts.
What it doesn’t do is use itself up or run itself out.
If you’d like to hear what I’m doing musically, head on over. While you’re there, look through the songs and see what others are writing. The library grows by about 500 songs most days during February, and most have demos you can listen to and even download. I’ve discovered some of my favorite artists on FAWM; regular folks who love making music as much as I do.
P.S. Ginger is off to the editor tomorrow and will be ready for y’all to buy before month end.
Like Hemingway said, just sit at your typewriter and bleed.
I’ve written 5 songs in the past couple weeks, as part of two songwriting challenges.
I’m emotionally exhausted. Even the fun songs are emotional effort, but the ones that dredge up the past or make me look inside my dead father’s brain are like digging a grave with your own bones.
I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
- Into Town — A desperately lonely song; nothing at all like my father would have been if he were the one alive and alone instead of my mother.
- I ♥ You — A totally silly diatribe, to balance it.
- Good Pair of Jeans — Another fun one, because Poppies refused to come out.
- Upside Down Smile — A jazzy number for my Best Beloved, which also helped Poppies ruminate in my unconscious.
- Poppies — Finally, Poppies, which just might be my father talking to me again.