New review for "Snow White 8 Ball":
sound effects spectacular
wasted a full minute until you got to the meat of this song. Then no meat at all for two minutes between 2:00 and 4:00. Lots of repetition-lost another minute. I did notice some guitar trying to catch some air but never got a life line. Doing the math this should have been a 1:48 sec song.
Ouch.
The guy wants meat.
I listened to some of his stuff and I have a pretty good idea of why he didn't care for the song. It's okay. My shit is probably a bit too experimental for his tastes. Plus, I'm not going for "meat" here. I'm after the head trip.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Whoa! Another "Snow White 8 Ball" review!!!
Hot on the heels of the last "Snow White 8 Ball" review, here's another one. I'm a little flabbergasted that I actually got TWO on the same day. I don't think that's ever happened before. I'm still waiting on the first review of a song I entered as myself (as opposed to my "alter-ego" the Bambo Syndicate).
This one is positive as the last one was. It's much more succinct, but I can't expect lengthy reviews every time, especially when most people are only reviewing because they want to get their song in the review process. I guess that's kind of a vicious circle. It's nice when you get one that is actually well thought out and all (like the one from earlier today).
Still, I am grateful for this one, too:
Nice
I dig the drum intro and the howling. When the song kicks off, it reminds me of Cornershop. I would add a bit more prominent vocals too it or add some nice guitar parts. I think this song would also benefit from panning certain things and having more of a three speaker stereo pan (leslie effects).
This one is positive as the last one was. It's much more succinct, but I can't expect lengthy reviews every time, especially when most people are only reviewing because they want to get their song in the review process. I guess that's kind of a vicious circle. It's nice when you get one that is actually well thought out and all (like the one from earlier today).
Still, I am grateful for this one, too:
Nice
I dig the drum intro and the howling. When the song kicks off, it reminds me of Cornershop. I would add a bit more prominent vocals too it or add some nice guitar parts. I think this song would also benefit from panning certain things and having more of a three speaker stereo pan (leslie effects).
Another "Snow White 8 Ball" Review
I got another review for "Snow White 8-Ball" on garageband this afternoon, and all I can say is FINALLY! Someone gets it!
Theatrical till inducing clear vision
Toy drums seems introduce to a new wave revival number on the mood of Hiroshima mon Amour by Ultravox, but it fades under a cascade of sparse sounds, which are a similar to howl or wining (or some other night animal) and reshape in a half sitar-driven & half stomp rock groove.
Voices - very odd and never singing for real, but I'm not saying it's bad, actually I like it - appear here and there as yells, strange laughings, sparse phrases 'til everything slow down and mutating in ionized sounds, which remain as musical carpet.
Now song is suspended... seems depicting a limbo where you can't see clearly, but many sounds of real life arrive a little awry to your ears.
I mean, it's like when you faint: You hear the world fade away, stay for a while between awake and gone, then come slowly back to reality.
As noises raise up in volume and number, the groove is fading slowly in, with his frenzy reverse looped bass and some similarity with the harshest Nine Inch Nails and even a nuance of Grateful Dead.
Song transmits a sense of mistique, druggy ritual soundtrack. It's psychedelic in his effects more than his form, as the climate is more hard rock than dreamy.
Theatrical till inducing clear vision
Toy drums seems introduce to a new wave revival number on the mood of Hiroshima mon Amour by Ultravox, but it fades under a cascade of sparse sounds, which are a similar to howl or wining (or some other night animal) and reshape in a half sitar-driven & half stomp rock groove.
Voices - very odd and never singing for real, but I'm not saying it's bad, actually I like it - appear here and there as yells, strange laughings, sparse phrases 'til everything slow down and mutating in ionized sounds, which remain as musical carpet.
Now song is suspended... seems depicting a limbo where you can't see clearly, but many sounds of real life arrive a little awry to your ears.
I mean, it's like when you faint: You hear the world fade away, stay for a while between awake and gone, then come slowly back to reality.
As noises raise up in volume and number, the groove is fading slowly in, with his frenzy reverse looped bass and some similarity with the harshest Nine Inch Nails and even a nuance of Grateful Dead.
Song transmits a sense of mistique, druggy ritual soundtrack. It's psychedelic in his effects more than his form, as the climate is more hard rock than dreamy.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
"Run"
Just a few days ago I was visited by "Inspiration" and it compelled me to write a song. A country song, at that. When I feel a song coming on there's not much I can do to stop it. The melody forms in my imagination with very little input from me. Then I get a few words which I add to and take away from effortlessly. This, I remind you, is not ME who writes these songs. Good or bad, I really shouldn't take credit for them. Not that this particular Muse can be counted on for consistent quality material, and when she throws me a dud I generally take responsibility.
So if the new one is a dud I have no one to blame but myself for not knowing whether the Muse was at the top of her game or simply doing me a favor to remind me that I AM a songwriter, even if that's a fact that I'm too lazy to acknowledge a lot of the time. My creativity, these days, is channeled into other avenues of expression. It's nice to be able to knock a tune out every once in awhile, though.
So if the new one is a dud I have no one to blame but myself for not knowing whether the Muse was at the top of her game or simply doing me a favor to remind me that I AM a songwriter, even if that's a fact that I'm too lazy to acknowledge a lot of the time. My creativity, these days, is channeled into other avenues of expression. It's nice to be able to knock a tune out every once in awhile, though.
"RUN"
Come Sunday morning
I'll be on my way back home
And I know I've been a long time gone
And I know you've been waiting, baby
I can see you there in my mind
I know it's been a long time
chorus:
But ever since I've been away
There were times I've wanted to stay
Maybe leave it all behind
There was always something changed my mind
Can't help the way I feel
Or how I want to steal away
But I know when all is said and done
I'll run back to you someday
Photographs and memories
Lord, they haunt my wandering mind
They make for me an enemy of time
But come Sunday morning
Gonna leave this all behind
'Cause I know just where to find you
chorus
bridge
When all my memories are long dead and gone
I don't see anything in all the days to come
Today I'm walking towards the sun
Tonight I'll turn around and run...
chorus
Come Sunday morning
I'll be on my way back home
And I know I've been a long time gone
And I know you've been waiting, baby
I can see you there in my mind
I know it's been a long time
chorus:
But ever since I've been away
There were times I've wanted to stay
Maybe leave it all behind
There was always something changed my mind
Can't help the way I feel
Or how I want to steal away
But I know when all is said and done
I'll run back to you someday
Photographs and memories
Lord, they haunt my wandering mind
They make for me an enemy of time
But come Sunday morning
Gonna leave this all behind
'Cause I know just where to find you
chorus
bridge
When all my memories are long dead and gone
I don't see anything in all the days to come
Today I'm walking towards the sun
Tonight I'll turn around and run...
chorus
Monday, February 9, 2009
Swift, Cyrus and that depressing Radiohead on the Grammys
O, to be 15 again, for a day...My channel surfing last night came to an abrupt halt when I landed on the Grammy Awards show. In full stereophonic annoyance sat Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus butchering some song I've never heard. I'm not impressed with the work of Swift or Cyrus so the pairing is nothing special to me...nothing I've been waiting days and days to see. Easy enough on the eyes. At least that Cyrus Montana gal sure is. I'm not fond of that "waifish wisp of femininity" look that Swift is cursed with.
Hannah Cyrus exudes the air of one too young to know all the risque things she knows. If not for the innocent, baby-face Billy Ray blood she's carrying you'd think must be at least 36 years old, the look of passionate need in her eye, the come hither smile that says, "Let us explore the depths of my schizophrenia, my marvelous deep sea diver!"
On the other hand, this Swift chick looks like she'd crumble the first time her old man took to slappin' her 'round. BOOM, one hit, she be down for the count. Like a brittle, slightly pretty flower, she wilts in the blistering sun of REAL love, REAL devotion. She'd cut and run the minute trouble walked in the door. Her voice is weak, straight through the nose. Before she got lucky and hit it big I saw a performance she did on CMT and I thought, "there's no way this girl is going to make it. It's too obvious what she's trying to be...the inquisitive teen with a crush on some guy who daydreams about Hannah Montana."
None of which really matters, of course. The one thing I learned in the first 5 minutes that I caught of the Grammys was that neither of these young femmes fatale can sing worth a shit.
I didn't hang around for what came directly after. Somehow I found myself clicking around the dial again. I availed myself of another chance to watch the Grammys with the last click of the remote button's travelling. The Grammys, though a disasterous joke for at least the last two decades, was preferable to the rest of Dish Network's Hot 100 premium satellite channel line-up.
How do YOU spell 'ANNOYING'?Serendipity stepped in when I learned that Radiohead was coming up after the commercial break.
There was a time when I counted myself among the legion of Radiohead fans. I still like much about their music. I haven't kept up with them, though. And it's been quite a while since I was in a mood conducive to appreciating Thom Yorke's bitter vocal and lyrical prowess. They were already huge when I first began listening to them. Now they're beyond that, to the point where folks talk about how influential they are to the new generation of rockers. I suppose that's what drove me away. Eventually it gets to that point where you know they're just trying to top the last "masterpiece". Everyone, most of all the band themselves, realize it cannot be done. You might as well hop off the bandwagon. Don't let 'em drag you down with them.
I was in a generous mood. They might just have something real nifty up their sleeve. Some new song or style, something different, more upbeat and cheerful. I was prepared to enjoy myself.
The effort was quickly detoured when Yorke comes out looking all "under-the-bridge", shaking his skinny head and spewing out some less-than-decipherable gobbledegook. I could understand about every goddamn word in three but I think it's safe to say he wasn't singing about stopping to smell the roses. He hops around the stage like a malnourished monkey, milking the strange vocal ejaculations for all their worth, as if they are the words of Vedic wisdom, too high and lofty to be comprehended by the masses (especially the buffoons gathered at this awards show, all of whom eat this shit up like it's bacon). The man is disheveled, it is obvious. This entire fit he's throwing is likely the result of sleep deprivation and a failed attempt to procure a small amount of methamphetamine. The spat-out glossalolia could very well be the garbled attempts of a very tired man to communicate. He needs to let the doctor know that he's okay, he's not going to that safe place again, he is an ARTIST, and a tortured one at that. He proclaims the necessity of his illness in finding the place where his muse can sneak up behind him.
Radiohead. Woof-a-doof-a-woop-de-do!
"Where's Radiohead?" I asked myself. "All I see is Thom Yorke, Jonny Greenwood and a hefty sized cadre of horns and bass drums lined up behind them." It is possible that the other three guys were scattered amongst the drum'n'brass crew, but I didn't see them. Not to say that I looked too hard, but I'm reasonably certain they were not there. And so I asked myself one more time, "Where's Radiohead?"
The song itself, musically, was decent enough. It reeked of the whole "we're so big we're gonna put on a special, gala shindig for you" ethic. But Greenwood was able pull some pretty sounds from his guitar effects shit.
When it was all over I was comforted only by the fact that there was nothing else on television worth watching and so it wasn't too much a waste of time. My waning taste for Radiohead dipped a little bit deeper. I have not yet come to the point where everything about them bores me. Still, I must say, after last night's Grammy gig I am one step closer.
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