Track 21: The Living End

Most of these numbers were written in a flurry in February 2011, where they sat, waiting for more songs to come to me so I could burn a CD, but not much did, aside from "Collette (Every Time I Say Your Name)" in June of the same year (that tune was included on Track 1 of this blog).

To fill this out I'm going to include "Bethany" from the "Writhe" sessions, as this was also the source for the original recording of Diane Elliott (which was remixed with new vocal tracks in 2011). A late addition is a new song, a new last song?

The title comes from the lyrics of one of the songs in this collection.

Diane Elliott
Written on August 29, 2001

This is an older recording revisited. I added backing vocals, a shaker, and some bass. The year, 2001: I had finished up with my EP Not a Viable Commercial Product and while happy with it, I was drained. There was a lot of pain and suicidal thoughts and unhappiness in that record. It's like I needed to purge myself and did so by vomiting my darkness onto a CD.

Once that was out of my system, I needed to get away from it. Write something lighter in tone. So, I came up with this tune about my grade school crush. The song is pretty much a true account – The first day I laid eyes on her I swallowed my heart. The guys knew it and took to teasing me about it. Being a half-wit and not slick enough to simply slip her one of those "I like you; do you like me. Check one" missives, nothing came of it. and I admired Diane from afar. 

In 2002 I did a quick recording in the same studio I did my EP. The engineer said he liked the Ringo line, and said it was a great lyric. I tried to write with the wide-eyed innocence I had back then. Rather straightforward and naive. Those fluttering butterflies did feel like being sick to my stomach.

Lyrics
Diane Elliott sat at the front of class, I sat in the back
I caught her eye, she looked away and that’s the night I became an insomniac

Told my friends I had an epiphany, that was a big mistake
Once the ball got rolling, it rolled right over me and left me with a stomachache

All this relentless teasin', shut out all sounds of reason
Why won’t you all close your mouths?

Cause I'm not in love with Diane Elliott, na, na, na, na
Diane Elliott, na, na, na, na – I'm not in love, I'm not in love, I'm not in love.

Put on my Beatles shirt after school, rode my bike down to her block
Eyes on her house I didn’t see the pickup, now I'm a laughingstock

Bleeding all over Ringo Starr, I got out my old guitar
Thought I’d pen a few good lies

But I'm not in love with Diane Elliott, na, na, na, na
Diane Elliott, na, na, na, na – I'm not in love, not in love, not in looooove

She might be the most beautiful girl in the world –but that doesn't mean a thing to me!
She might have the face of an angel, but I wouldn't notice, as you can plainly see
I’m not in love!

Repeat chorus



Everything is...
Written on February 17, 2011

On songwriting forums etc, you’ll often find us complaining about our limited thematic scope. We can write about love easy enough, it's branching out that can be difficult. This one's different, it drew Inspiration from Internet discussion boards.

This song took its first gulp of air after I'd read a mean and judgmental proclamation directed at another member (to paraphrase broadly, "Your selfish and other people have it worse!") Where do these presumptions come from? For all the forum attacker knew, the forum attackee was sitting behind her computer with a puffy purple shiner, a birthday gift from the husband delivered earlier that day. "How do you know the depth of this person’s pain?" I wondered.

From there, the infant tune took its first awkward steps after I took stock of myself. For everything I know, I know very little. For every place I've been, I still haven’t seen everything. I look at the whole of my life and see my experiences and how they shaped me. Yet despite living all of these years, I can sometimes still be so full of shit.

This was another quick demo, just me plugged in and plucking away and singing in one take. Adding backing vox, lead guitar, etc., later. I'm madly in love with the "radio 1" filter and use on my voice to excess, I like f-ing with my voice (it sounds like I might have run it through the distortion pedal at the bridge as well). I put this in a lower tuning, but I don't what that tuning is - I just lowered it to about in the middle arrow on the flat side of the tuner (HaHa, that's scientific enough, right?)

Lyrics
And everything is everything is everything I know
It's all right, it's all wrong, it's all for show
Mrs. soft soap, scolding softly, "Other people got it worse than you"
It doesn't change that pain is pain, you feel it whether you're in the gutter or well to do

I tried to tell you, I tried to say it but I didn't want to sound unkind
I couldn't follow, I couldn't be there, I couldn't go in blind
And everywhere is everywhere is everywhere I go
It's all right, it's all right, but it's not all right

You have been wagering – That everyone is all the same
You dole out pills for the masses, then take a bow to our raised glasses

And everything is everything is everything I know
It’s all right, it’s all wrong, it’s all for show
I trace a line back; I see it all back, to infancy
A jagged path through recrimination and false sympathy

And everything is everything is everywhere I go
It’s all right, it’s all right, but it’s not all right



(I'll Never Be) Your Forever Man
Written on February 19, 2011

Hmm, what to say about the subject matter, it's about how my personality quirks, if you will, have caused difficulties in relationships. I was tested to see if I was on the autism spectrum (my father was always worried about me) but nothing was conclusive, I had some traits, but not others. And I had this war within myself, where a part of me hated my social awkwardness, etc, and part of me accepted that this as who I was, that I existed in this liminal space, where it was me and my routines, or my rocking, which gave me comfort (but unfortunately, when that movie came out, I acquired a certain nickname). 

A few lyrics might upset some listeners, but it's my brain, it's my life and it's what I felt. And some lyrics... well over the years I've forgotten what they mean ("I take it all for granted with words that condescend" - no clue what I was trying to say there)

Forever Man (not to be confused with that Clapton song) was written and recorded on the quick, and I do mean quick. While I like the western-flavored melody and the chords. The song still needs work, for example, I repeat too many of the same words, and the guitar sounds out of tune. (I removed some of the "try's" in the lyrics, though they remain in the recording)

I like the idea of everything -whether it is pain or happiness, it’s all just a small moment of time. Nothing lasts forever (which is a thought that comforts me whenever I'm struggling).

Lyrics
It’s the outer limit; it’s the living end
I take it all for granted, with words that condescend
Oh, and I could show you something, but it’s best if I hold my tongue
'Cause I tend to ramble incoherently, until I’ve come unstrung

I was born under a shadow, with a mark upon my brow
I wanted to tell you, baby, but I just didn’t know how
And I’ve tried to do my best, Oh I don’t mean to complain
God knows I did my damnedest, and broke under the strain

But it’s just a moment in time, it won’t go on forever
I’ll take comfort in what I can --- Oh but baby, I’ll never be, your forever man

If I could let it show, If I could find the key
I’d break out from this prison -- and truly be free
I tried to do my best, No I don’t mean to complain
God knows I did my damnedest, and broke under the strain



Approach With Caution
Written on February 20, 2011

I guess this is my "Nowhere Man". My car was busted, and I was stuck home. Bored to tears and eating a Pop Tart while laying on my bed. Staring at my albums (Boingo's "Only a Lad") and the paintings on the walls (Dali)... I thought, "I could turn this into a song".

I hate the lines about food, even though they were true (that’s what I do when I'm bored – eat, even if I’m not hungry, watch TV even if there’s nothing on). I thought about calling a gal, but that would have opened old wounds and heartaches - and when I came to that part of the song, trying to find a rhyme for "Sin" the light bulb come on over my head... "How about, let the right one in?" I was delighted and pat myself on the back - because at the time I was really into the movie (Let the Right One In) and was reading the book. Everything in the song is true, except for beer... I was actually drinking root beer.

The song reminds me of Lou Reed, the chord structure is very much like Reed.

The melody all sounds the same, verse and chorus, so I attempted to break things up by adding more percussion in the chorus, and changing the rhyme schemes, though I don’t think this works. I was whispering the vocals because it was early in the morning, and I didn't want complaints from the neighbors. I intended to re-do them, but I liked it, so they stayed that way. The bass was a hell of a lot of fun to play.

Lyrics
Sitting here with my melting clocks - Sitting here with my album art
There’s a lizard handed Boy Scout on a mountain top
I take another bite from my cherry Pop Tart

And I’m bored as sin; I’d like to let the right one in
But the right ones seem to take a wrong turn
I might be getting older, but I never learn
Approach with caution ‘cause you might get burned

I’ve been standing here for a half an hour, Staring inside my refrigerator
Hope, something different will suddenly stand out
And I’ll kick this pop stand and sing, "See ya later"

I’d love to get in my car and feel the wind in my face
Drive to the ocean, escape this dying place
But my car needs more repairs than I have money
So, I turn on a sit-com, but I don’t find it funny
I cook my eggs, but the eggs are runny

And I can pretend for hours, pretend I’m anywhere else but here
Reality’s impossible to defy – Sit in your underwear, and crack open another beer

Here we go, here we go, here we go, here we go, here we go, here we go, here we go… again



Bethany
Written on March 18, 2001

This is actually about my first electric guitar. I named her Bethany, after the novel "Bethany's Sin" by Robert R. McGammon. This also nearly became the name of the band, until I found out another group was using it. The tune was written in Nashville and first performed live at the Douglas Corner Cafe. I don't believe Jerrod (the engineer) felt it was working in the first session. In the 2nd, when I added harmonies (and the lead spot) he said that really lifted the track considerably. I do like it lyrically and feel the pre-chorus/chorus is the song's strong suit.

Note: It's written as a love song, and that made my ex-wife jealous, as she thought it was actually about a real woman, even though she knew the guitar was named Bethany, even when I pointed out the lyrics (how many women wait in the dark). It cracks me up to think of the absurdity of it.

Lyrics

I put myself out there, because this is all I've got

And with my first love, she loves me no matter

She stands at my side; she sings when my fingers glide

You don't forget your first love, she's the only place you can hide

You might think I'm out of my mind

She don't care, she's always been there

Bethany, Bethany

Bethany's sin, was hangin' round a guy who can't win

And when I'm lonesome, I always know where I can find her

She waits in the dark, 'till I come along spilling out my heart

Chorus

She don't cut me, she don't drag me

She don't analyze me

She don't laugh, when I fall

She's at my beck and call



God's Mistake

Written on July 26, 2022

And here I thought I was done with songwriting.

In revisiting my musical past, I inadvertently released old traumas, and in doing so, found it difficult to sleep, woken by terrible memories. Having to deal with current everyday troubles was bad enough, I didn't need to carry around the past humiliations and bullying as well. 

In reading articles about how to heal and move on, one author suggested writing a letter to your tormentors, not to send, but to get it off your chest. So, I made the attempt, and began, "Dear assholes..." 

It's interesting how that morphed into a song, how I had to rework it in order for it fit a rhyme scheme, and how, as with most tunes, I had to whittle the lyrics down, and find a way to say what I wanted succinctly. 

Notes: Princess? Yeah, women could be cruel too, by egging on their brutal champions, and... I remember once, a girl bumped into me, she apologized, and I was touched to be treated like a human being, then she saw who it was, and her faced curdled like milk, "Oh, it's only you" - garbage like me didn't deserve compassion or kindness - all of this contributed to the psychological and emotional damage I suffered. The line, "you stole my voice"? The Beatles gave that back. When I talk about their importance in my life, that's not an exaggeration, and it goes beyond just enjoying their music. They inspired me, empowered me, when Lennon sang "Nowhere Man", and I read how that came about, how he was blocked and feeling nowhere, "What, he feels that too?" I thought, so it's okay to put that in a song, to express yourself, be yourself? That was powerful and life changing.

Lyrics

I don't remember your faces, but I do remember your fists

I don't remember your names, but the damage you did persists

I wouldn't know you if I saw you, but I remember how you stole my voice

I thought I'd buried the past, but even in that it seems I have no choice

The little pieces you cut from me, the thousand scars in your wake

The way you made me feel, like I was God's mistake

The way you made me feel, like I was God's mistake

Did hurting me make you feel strong, or like a princess, or a prince

Was this how you assert your manhood, and who were you trying to convince

So, I'm writing you this letter, to try to get it off my chest

In hopes that I can find some peace, and finally get some rest

The little pieces you cut from me, the thousand scars in your wake

The way you made me feel, like I was God's mistake

But the jokes on you (you cowards) I'm not God's mistake

Yeah, the jokes on you, cause I'm not God's mistake