Yesterday, my brother and I tried to compose a song ’bout the bands’ experiences for the past horrible and exciting five years of our not so famous existence. Well, at first we agreed on one thing – we will never ever write about the things we do when we’re drunk. Drunk like there’s no tomorrow and when we wake up in the morning with the painful hangover we remember nothing at all.
He played the bass and started working on the chords while I tried to put some rhythm on it. I play the acoustic guitar most of the time although I’m not that good at it. I’m a pianist but we refrain from using the piano because we don’t want to sound like the Coldplay, Keane, or U2. Those bands are great but they’re not that wicked like Black Sabbath or Led Zeppelin.
I always start the writing and every song begins with either a question or a situation. A song always contains the element of time, space, and bizarre point of view. For instance, Don McLean started American Pie with “A long long time ago…” phrase and followed by some disturbed lyrics like “this will be the day that I die” and “in the streets the children screamed, the lovers cried, the poets dreamed… ”. He asked many questions like “do you have faith in God above (?)” and “can you teach me how to dance real slow (?)”. It lasted 8:32 minutes in my iPod, the longest song ever.
After we’ve done with the first two stanzas, I played the wicked song using a Fender electric guitar with the heavy metal gadget. It sounded great! Of course, we borrowed some riffs from Tony Iommi. But we never finished writing the song because we got drunk when we tried to finalize the chorus. I mean we never even get into the chorus at all. Our best friends – Whiskey and Beer – never ever let us down.
And just this morning I found this piece of paper in my brother’s drawer. I’m not really sure if it is a sonnet but it’s some kind of poetry. Obviously, it has some borrowed words form Blind Melon’s song “No Rain” and Michael Connelly’s book “The Poet”. He arranged the word quiet good actually that’s why I’m thinking if it’s better for him to change his career from a frustrated musician to a hungry young poet.
What do you think ‘bout the following literary piece?
I left Eidolon in pain,
Where the malign raven sings;
The same old songs still remain,
Out of space in time of things.
In loneliness I complain,
The songs still remain the same;
I wrote in the pouring rain,
But it’s not sane, it’s insane.
I read books to stay awake,
But the song is still the same;
I pray for the angels’ sake;
The plain ground cries for your name.
My companions are waiting,
To sing the same song again;
This is the broken morning,
I left words and songs to drain.
I slept amidst the lightness,
The song is still emptiness;
Wrong words in chord seem to rhyme,
I’m out of space, out of time.