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November 11 For The Love Of Fast Cars
For the Love of Fast Cars
To each their own. It’s a saying that speaks volumes. From across the room you can hear someone whisper it. It serves purpose to not having to understand another opinion, another lifestyle, or another family. You accept without question. Because to someone else: it’s completely natural. To race fans, it’s exactly that. Every single person in the world is different, but we do share similar genes. All of them are heretic: some are musical, some are athletic, and some are talent of color, math, word, design, or dream. Some contain octane. The need for speed can lay dormant in some people for years. Then one day you hear those most famous words of motorsports, and you feel that horsepower come alive. And it’s so loud that it overtakes you, it shakes you, and something inside within you awakes you. Like you have been dreaming of your life, and then wake up into a world of racing. It’s part of your genetic make up. It’s the racing gene. The gene is not sexist, racial, or regional. It’s just amazing. Racing is so much more then just Fast Cars, but what two cooler words would there be to describe it? Fast Cars. Granted, it’s not for everybody. Some people just don’t understand it. Some people could careless about horsepower, track bars, and chassis. Some people don’t like Fast Cars. Some people don’t have the gene. For the people that do have it, it’s our own thing. And to each their own, indeed! Speed is what flows through the collective racing fans heart. It’s what separates us from the rest of the world. It is an exclusive club. Membership is on the rise, and future generations will be grandfathered in. On any given day, anywhere in the world, initiations are taking place. It starts with a sparkle in the eye, and is kicked off with the ceremonial right of passage. Let’s Go Racing! March 21 Grampaboy
Pleased to Meet Me. Part 3 I have never really posted my tunes on this space before, and I'm trying to remember now why I haven't. But this is a good way to end my three-part entry of the Mats. (If you want to read part 1 and part 2, go get your kicks. If you want to just hear the tune, that's alright by me. Just note, I wrote the song about both those entries.) This song was written probably 4 years ago on acoustic guitar. I can only remember playing it live once, since it came from a period where we really didn't have a band together anymore. (Somewhere between the old and new band, but with a few of the same guys from both.) We did end up putting it on tape during a few jam sessions at our drummers house. We probably made about 5 copies of it, and I'm sure the master file is lost forever, so this mix is all that's left of it. It sounds much younger to me now, with my voice, and the big guitars.
*No Longer on the Media Player.
Grampaboy
Here it comes, now watch it shine. I got a bleeding heart; swear it's a friend of mine. But please, spare me what I already now. There it goes, not a moment to spare. I'm at the end of my rope, not that you care. Don't tease, your empathy doesn't show.
Here it comes, make it shine, now watch it go.
The feeling of bleeding is contagious, and going around. Spend your time building them up, and now your knockin them down.
I'm here to tell you what seems fair. We're all beginning to tear, can you continue to spare your sympathy? Cause, everybody say that it shows. You begin to bite, when you turn down the light, as if it doesn't feel right, at the end of the night I begin to see, you set me up like dominos.
Here it comes, make it shine, now watch it go.
I get the feeling I'm choking, left-ed outspoken, a real fixer-up, but made to be broken. Oh no. A walking contradiction itself. It's just the daily grind; everybody does their time, imagination is mine, don't worry, I'm doing fine. Let's roll. Stop dwelling about the books on my shelf.
Won't everybody please be kind, so I can act myself.
But I still don't want to fight. Don't make a big deal, out of tonight. Cause I want to feel alright.
September 30 Lemonade
Time to start writing again!
This last week has been a change of season for most everyone I know, myself included. I'm trying my best to get better organized, and this last week has been a good step forward. Some fall dates have been confirmed for the band. We are really trying to pick up quality shows, instead of quantity. This winter will be spent recording, so I really don't see many shows on the horizon. It's time to start writing, and fall had always been a very creative season for me in the past. I'm hoping this year will be the same.
Tonight I have been going over stacks of past songs I have written, and it has really started to motivate me. I prefer to write late at night. I'm a night owl, and I feel more comfortable in the moonlight. I don't like to rewrite songs that I have already done, so sometimes I go over my catalog to eliminate ideas, and hopefully stir up some new ones. I found an old song written by The Professor and myself. (Mike, our lead guitar) He had a great progression completed, but had no lyrics. I fell in love with the slow melody, and I was honored that he left the lyrics for me. Since the music was totally done, I had the band demo it on an 8 track, so I could have the music on CD. I kept it in my car for the fallowing week. Nothing was coming to me. I didn't want to disappoint Mike, but I really didn't have any direction. I called him, while I was in the car, to tell him about my lack of progress. I told him I needed some bait, something I could hook into. I wanted to know what feeling the music spoke to him. He did have an image. He said he could see the sun in the music. A quiet porch that he could play guitar on. A warm summer day with no work in the horizon. Maybe a few close friends, a cocktail.
I hung up the phone and turned into my neighborhood. That's where I saw the sign. Lemonade for sale, 5 cents. I pulled over, dropped them some change that was in my car, and tipped my glass to the kids as I pulled away. Then it hit me! Drinking lemonade again. Nickel gone with a cup in my hand...., I had it! The first line. Instead of going home I speed back to the highway, my stereo cranked. A half hour later it was done. I went home and wrote it out. Picked up my guitar and began to play it. Those kids on the corner had just inspired me. I called Mike with the good news. He looked forward to hearing, Lemonade.
I have decided to share these lyrics with you all. We have not played it live in some time, but we have been talking about bringing it back into some shows. We will be playing a three set night later this month, and I'm hoping to revisit a few of these older songs.
Lemonade
Drinking lemonade again,
Nickel gone, with a cup in my hand.
Here we go again, my friend.
Time loves to pretend,
You and I, we will understand.
Here we go again, my friend.
It's time to heal a little more,
To settle up the score,
I'm feeling better then ever before.
And all of my worries are blurred beyond faded.
It's time to strike up the band,
To give yourself a hand.
I'm begining to understand.
Were a generation of self medicated.
And to the weather we surrender.
Though we didn't really try.
When in winter will we remember,
The final days of July?
Race you to the bottom of that bottle.
You may think that your fast,
Wait till you see me in full throttle.
Just games we made up in the shade.
And if you start shaking in your past,
I'll distract you with song,
As you fill up my glass,
With all the laughter that we made.
And to the weather we surrender.
Though we didn't really try.
When in winter will we remember,
The final days of July?
*I'm interested to know what you think this song is about? Please leave a few ideas in your comment. Thanks! |
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