You are allowed to enjoy this…

And so the song “Stinkhorn” (working title) blossomed into this song.
It took me a little bit of time to work out a lyric and vocal approach but I got there in the spare half-hour I got to record this afternoon. Yes, the vocals are shit, but what can you do about it? If you listen hard, you might just hear a lorry thundering past StudioLock.

So after my previous post, I put another 30 minutes to an hour’s work into it, adding some bass and a chorus and come up with the following. Not sure if it finished – toying with the idea of adding a lyric if I can write one to fit – though I kind of like it how it is.

Here is yesterday’s track with added words. It’s a pithy little number. Like I said: a bilious, cathartic, purge of a song. Not sure if it works. Here are the words so you can sing-along, yes indeedy…

It Seemed Such a Good Idea at the Time
What was I thinking?
It was the perfect plan
A way to take control
The best way to be a man
Stand up and be counted
Don’t get pushed around
But punch above your weight
And they’ll only knock you down
I never make mistakes
But this was the biggest and best
All that could go wrong went wrong
It all seemed like one big test
And you stumble
From one disaster to the next
And start to wonder
How you got into this fucking mess
And you hope
That everything turns out fine
It’s funny how
It seemed such a good idea at the time
You saw me coming
A fool and his money
To be parted quickly
But that joke isn’t funny
They sold off the family silver
Before you arrived
Death by a thousand cunts, more like
Wondering how you can survive
But you have your hand
The one that’s dealt you
And you play the game to your rules
And not the way they want you to
And you stumble
From one disaster to the next
And start to wonder
How you got into this fucking mess
And you hope
That everything turns out fine
It’s funny how
It seemed such a good idea at the time
Then you came out of nowhere
Found us, no surprise
I could sense it coming
From the moment I arrived
To see the stars through the missing wall
You running into the night
The smell of brick dust, gas and plaster
The car on its roof, smoking alight
A warzone brought to my door
You could have wiped us out
Lucky just my home was smashed
With us evacuated into the night
And you stumble
From one disaster to the next
And start to wonder
How you got into this fucking mess
And you hope
That everything turns out fine
It’s funny how
It seemed such a good idea at the time
So the process to begin again
And men who don’t care for you
Argue over the value of your sorrow
So you sit and wonder what you can do
I’ve learnt that there is no insurance
To fix the pieces of a broken mind
No compensation for the mental scars
As you wait for the healing time
Seconds into minutes into hours
Into days into weeks into months
And after a year you are back at the start
With no map, no compass or hope in your heart
And you stumble
From one disaster to the next
And start to wonder
How you got into this fucking mess
And you hope
That everything turns out fine
It’s funny how
It seemed such a good idea at the time

This is the latest track I’ve put down for “The Luckiest Man in the World” album. The lyric is written, so I’ve just got to find the right time to sit down and yodel it into my microphone. It’s a story of doom and gloom – you’ll like it. It’s all carthartic and part of the process, I guess. But this is just do-it-by-numbers song writing. I’m not very good at crafting proper songs so they always feel a little half-baked to me.
Anyway, I hope to bring the full version with all the lyrics here soon. Enjoy!

This is more like the flipside to “Give It To You”. It’s one thing to give something away willingly than to have someone come along and take something from you. One thing I’ve learnt over the past couple of years is that there are plenty of people out there who will fuck you over for the sake of a penny. That’s what this song is about. It’s about those petty-minded simplefolk who are just rotten to their fucking core. The one’s who spend their whole life making a game of fucking people over. You know who you are. I know who you are. The thing is that I am not slave to money, you are. So fuck you, slave. I am free.
As we have young kiddiwinks in the house, I have adopted a new style of singing (if it can be called singing). It’s more lips pressed against the mike and plenty of articulation rather than the process of expelling air from my lungs. Volume is a minimum and then maximised in the recording software using plenty of EQ and gain. I hate my voice. I think it sucks. I am still of the belief that guitarists should keep their traps shut and play their fucking guitars. But sometimes you build up a body of lyrics that need to be articulated. And this is that time. So I apologise for offending your sensibilities. This glitch in the matrix will be momentary. Normal service will be resumed once the new collection of recordings is finished. Title of the new album is: “The Luckiest Man in the World”.
Here are the words to this little ditty so you can sing-along in the bouncy ball stylee…

Never Enough
The arrogance and ignorance
Means its never enough
To steal what is mine
And lie to my face
When confronted
Act like a mistake
The greed is one thing
But the games you play
And the things you say
Are beyond the pale
Didn’t you think
I could work it all out
It’s never enough
Never enough
I could give you everything I have
And you’d smile at me and extend a hand
Because it’s never enough
Never enough
You could take everything I own
And still be hungry and want more
Because it’s never enough
Never enough
Never enough
Never enough
You know the price of everything, but the value of nothing
And while you do your best to amass your pile
The more you need, the more you want
And money can buy you love and influence and power
But remember that the wages of sin is death
The learning curve gets steeper
As the malevolence gets deeper
But this is an education
You can’t afford to buy
The thing is I can always change
But you will always stay the same
Like a book left open at the same old page
It’s never enough
Never enough
I could give you everything I have
And you’d pretend that you could be a friend
Because it’s never enough
Never enough
You could take everything I own
But you’d still leave the knife sticking out my back
Because it’s never enough
Never enough
Never enough
Never enough
Every man, woman and child has their price
From a million pounds to a bar of chocolate
In this world it appears anyone can be bought
By while you have to take the things I’ve earned
I transcend the need to worship at the shrine of the false idol: money

This is the bedding track for a song with words called “Never Enough”. The lyric concerns greed and the age-old fact that the more money you want the more money you need. So many people chase the dollar and find themselves corrupted by their need for cold, hard cash. But more so, it is about those people who will stab you in the back for the chance to screw you out of a pound.
The interesting thing about this track is that it is the first time I’ve used the Superior Drummer 2.0 software I purchased a month or so ago in order to generate the drum track. In the past, I’ve programmed the drums myself using a Boss DR880, but this new software allows me to drag and drop pre-rendered midifiles onto a grid and come up with realistic sounding drumparts on the fly. So yes, it is another way for me to cheat – so no more crappy drum programming for me, perhaps? No, I still love my DR-880 and it is good to get your hands dirty.

In ye olde days, I was blighted by insomnia. I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with sleep. Or maybe it’s that by nature I am a nocturnal creature preferring to beaver around when everyone is in bed. I like it late at night when there’s no-one about. It is if I have the whole world to myself (obviously that’s not quite true because on the other side of the world it is daytime).
Anyway, having children and a lifestyle that doesn’t lend itself to my various nocturnal activities (mainly recording music), my insomnia used to be a thing of the past. But ever since the incident, my sleep patterns are all over the shop. I’ve actually gone quite insane, really. Now I stay up in the (probably) misguided notion that if I am awake during these hours, nothing bad will happen to the house and if it does I am instantly on hand to ferry everyone to safety and deal with the miscreants. The incident has really fucked me up.
So this song is about what it is like to be me and trying to get to sleep. It’s short, but sometimes when I lie in bed I honestly feel that if I do go to sleep that I might never rise again. I worry that I won’t be there for the kids, that the stress of my situation my somehow finish me off. I’ve been aware of my mortality since I was five years old and when I have an attack of imagining my last breath, I now get very upset, because I want to life forever just so I can be there for the chlidren. What a sad pathetic fuck I’ve become, eh? My attack of shingles before Christmas was a warning signal about my health and stress levels, but there’s very little I can do until I extricate myself from this mess. Ahh, I could give you the details but who wants to hear yet another sob story? Boo-hoo. Grow some balls, man, ferchrissakes…

Hold On Till Morning
And I lay here in the darkness
And I can hear the baby breathing
And I feel your heat beside me
And I pray I have the strength to carry on
The tension in my chest
Tightens like a press
And the world spirals
So far away from me
The Coils of Sleep
Won’t drag me deep
As I worry on the how’s and now’s
Trying to find a way out
And I hope I can hold on
Till the early morning birdsong
Signals I’ve survived another night
And I’m greeted by the same familial sight
And you’ll are there by my side