Foment? Who the hell uses words like “foment” these days, let alone in a pop song? Apparently, that would be me.
“Enough motion for emotion to foment”
Ugh.
My new song “Goodby Caroline” has got to be one of the dumbest things I’ve ever written, but I can’t get it out of my head. The melody is plunder from an even stupider song I wrote, ages ago. Part of the chords are nicked from Sugar (by accident, the riff suggested the changes). It was supposed to be sort of vitriolic, an angry look at the end of a bad relationship, but, as usual, that got lost in the word play, at least I think it did. I’m mean “motion for emotion”? Is that not the lamest internal rhyme you’ve ever heard?
Still, it’s fun, it’s a pop song, and it’s been recorded as a demo - one I sort of hope you never hear because it’s chock full of fuck ups. Still working on that computerized recording thing.
Maybe you’ll hear “GC” at the Centaur Guitar Parking Lot Rock festival. Probably not but it’ll be aired eventually. For a break up song it’s, ironically, the most cheerful thing I ever done wrote… Heh…
- Phred
Happy birthday, Woody Guthrie…
… Happy birthday too you…
Woody Guthrie would have been 99 today. Apparently, Wilco and Billy Bragg are going to do some more Mermaid Avenue cruisin’ to celebrate his centennial next year. That’s pretty cool. Can’t wait!
Billy Bragg is a hero to me. Very few people have written songs that cut as straight, and skillfully, to the quick in the fingers politic than he. Apart from writing one of the most beautiful, and sad, love songs about loneliness (“A New England”), the most humanly heartwarming song for a child or loved one (“Milkman of Human Kindness”), and the most clearly stated study of the economic plight of the average person (“To Have and Have Not”), he’s worked with another personal favorite, Wilco, to realize unfinished songs by yet another favorite, Woody Guthrie. He’s also one of the most caring and insightful political commentators going. An influence I’d give my eyeteeth to come within a tenth of the talent of, Mr Bragg is always worth giving a listen to.
- Phred
Superchunk is one of my all-time favorite bands. I’m not sure what started me down the path of ‘Chunk fandom but I know it started around the release of No Pocky for Kitty and may have something to do with Steve Albini producing it, though considering how gormless I was at the time about production, I doubt I’d even have noticed that. That sort of thing took a year or two (plus Wedding Present, Pixies, Nirvana, and PJ Harvey records) for me to dig.
The cut “Throwing Things” always stayed with me. I strayed from being a ‘Chunk purist as I grew older and interests took me deeper into other styles, but “Throwing Things” always remained, and I’d find myself back going through my ‘Chunk records over and over again, sometimes with weeks, other times with years between listens.
After a long foray into electronic music, hip hop DJing, and country bass playing, I somehow rediscovered the Guitar (capital needed to capture this feeling). It was like coming home. I rediscovered the music that made me love the guitar, Superchunk’s dueling, playful leads and Dinosaur Jr’s massive crunch had me running back to my rig to practice riffs again, letting their ideas help build the callouses back on my finger tips, leading to exploration that allowed me to explore my own idea. Ironically, in this era (not nearly simultaneously but close enough), both bands decided that more music was to be made and, unlike their money-hungry peers who simply tour old material and bask in past glamour, both celebrated “career season” records with dynamic tours. I honestly never thought I’d pogo along with Laura again, but to see her, Mac, and the gang with Teenage Fanclub (I could have sworn I’d only just seen the same line up but it was, oh, twenty years ago) on the Majestic Shredding tour was nearly too much. Apart from watching J solo at Dante’s or the second night of the Bug reunion tour, I don’t think I’ve felt so connected to the fanatic I was in the early 90’s since the early 90’s.
Great stuff. I can’t wait for the next album and tour.
- Phred in Portland, OR
Ever depress yourself writing a song?
Well… I have. I don’t like to analyze my writing process too much because it takes the magic right out of the process. People do not need to picture me holding a Jazzmaster, sitting in front of a laptop, in my pajamas. That really deflates the whole mystique a few of us still have about the creative process, those, I’d guess, who don’t just equate it with making money. I want it to feel profound but profound it’s not. It’s more “found”.
You see, I don’t think I write music so much as find it. I stumble upon it whilst my fingers explore the neck of my guitar. I may intend for something to happen but, untrained in theory as I am, I cannot hear something in my head and translate it directly. That process involves trial and error that, in the course of it, invariable alters the pure tones I’m reaching for, which turns the process back into discovery. That said, I am able to widely throw idea after idea out there rather quickly, usually when trying to cover the lie that the song I’m demoing for the band is actually complete (this, I find, is about the only way I can write decent middle-eights, btw). Which is a good thing.
Lyrics are stranger; which is ironic seeing as I’ve been called an accomplished prose writer. Melodies are suggested, I think, by the tones and overtones in the chords being repeated, triggering lines that start out as mumbles, and the mumbles take shape. The rhythm - also gleaned from the progression of the chords - begins to suggest the shapes of words, creating the format that the words must adhere to. This suggests sentences; as well as why many of them are abstract. When a sentence or two are complete, the rest is stream of consciousness, usually spilling out onto the keyboard rather quickly. At least when I’m lucky as the pattern is usually that the first verse and chorus arrive but the process of finding them leaves me too tired, or too stimulated, to finish.
This was the pattern for today. The changes came yesterday, hiding in the studio from the world, I watched more TV than I’ve done in years. Just a simple, light riff, suggesting airy chords. Then the chorus progression took shape, and the melody began to lilt and mumble. It wasn’t until today that the mumbles took shape and the mystery of the song was revealed. It’s a song about death. On the lightest chord change I’ve ever written (and possibly too light for AVH to make use of), words arrived that left me feeling blank.
Oh well. Shake it off. I’ll run through the set again and make sure the pets have their dinner. I think I’ll take a break from the lyrics for a little while too.
Peace - Phred
Because that is how we roll, Farcebook…
It has happened. After much begging cajoling, and promising of gifts (chewing gum wrapper origami gifts, I might add), but Avenue Victor Hugo has reached the dizzying heights of 25 Facebook “likes” and gets to join the likes of “Broccoli Man” and various manufacturers of toilet paper in the social caste of FB pages that have their own username. Yes, believe it or not, we now have a static URL we can annoy the free world with and intend to do so regularly, most likely in mutilated URLese that means I have to edit the posting again and again until the link actually works. Stupid “/or" controversy…
Fellow PacNW band, Minty Rosa, from Longview, WA, rock it before a room full of lucky elementary school kids. It sounds like bloody “Hard Day’s Night” in that room! SCREAM!
Check out the Facebeing event and feel free to invite your friends!
Mah ears are bleeding!
The finger tips on my left hand are swollen and my ears feel like someone’s being ramming them full of cotton, using an ice-pick to get it in there. Avenue Victor Hugo must be rehearsing again…
I won’t lie, things are sounding good. I had no idea how good they could get. Craig has introduced xylophone and “wood block” to round out the percussive tones, as well as bringing an extra mic and providing some much needed back ups to my caterwauling, and Kiley’s runs never cease to amaze me. In all honesty, it’s a wonder I can make it through a friggin’ song, grinning from ear to ear as drum blasts propel the likes of “Kafka’s Dream” into dizzying realms of power-pop joy.
Are we there yet? No, the set is getting tighter and tighter but it can get tighter still, I still stumble over half my lyrics and am searching for the right key to solo over the changes of “Hateful Song”, and we still crack each other up mid-cut when experimentation turns into inanity, but it’s very nearly the most fun I’ve had playing music and that’s the point, isn’t it?
It’s going to be a fun show on the 31st, even if we rocket through our half hour so fast we leave it with ten minutes to spare. We’re loud, we’re brash, we’re mildly experimental. We ain’t pop, we ain’t punk, and we ain’t heavy metal. We’re Avenue Victor Hugo and we will rock you.
This is gonna be great.
- Ph(re)D
PS - Coming in time for the Centaur gig? STICKERS! Heh heh… Here’s hoping!
The home of indie psych/power trio, Avenue Victor Hugo, on these h'yar Interwebs. Check here for band info, demos, rants by Phred, and general updates on our process of makin' music and bringin' it to you.
