Desdemona: how a little uke improved race relations at GBGC

Okay, so the first thing you might notice about this song is that there's a ukulele in it. Some of you faithful fans may have caught me using an anti-ukulele sentiment on occasion. I'm not saying the ukulele isn't a fabulous instrument, but I get annoyed because people are always calling my little bad guitar a ukulele.

Once and for all - it's not a ukulele!

I set out writing this song as part of a not-yet-officially started series of songs about operatic heroines (see The Queen of the Night here). I had a groove going, a melody and nothing else (i.e. no coherent thoughts). I even sought help from a friend of mine who is currently singing Desdemona, but the truth is, it’s hard to get into the psyche of a character unless you’ve played her yourself. And the descending flute melody you can hear is actually Leonora's "Pace, pace" and not Desdemona's "Salce, salce." This was going nowhere. So, now what? Discard it? 

Then current events intervened and showed me the direction the song should take. George Zimmerman was acquitted of murdering young Trayvon Martin. The essence of the Desdemona-Othello problem is not race, it’s jealousy. The essence of the Martin-Zimmerman problem may have been race, but may have also been fear. Yet neither of the victims deserved to die (but if no one dies in Shakespeare, it makes for an awfully boring story). Sadly, I suspect in decades to come people are going to forget about the murder trial, but people will still be reading Shakespeare.

So why did I use the ukulele all of sudden to express the voice of Desdemona? Was it because she, like the bad guitar, was misunderstood? Why Desdemona at all? Because she, like Trayvon Martin, was falsely accused and brutally, needlessly murdered? And why this song? To show the world that my relationship with a 4-stringed instrument can be just as sincere as that with a 6-stringed one?

   It might just be an innate sense for rhythm, rhyme and melody and a need to create. Like people today analyzing Shakespeare, in times to come no one will ever know what my true motives were.

lyrics and music property of the grahamophone:

desdemona

what’s your name?

paranoid mistrust 

suspicion unjust

-  insane

are you ashamed?

look past the skin

let the truth come in

try again 

who’s to blame?

but the hatred lies so deep

every willow shall weep

- the pain

we’re not the same

   

Look into your heart

and go back to the start 

of the game

Gonna make a (pop) star outta me yet!

I've been using GarageBand for years to make my little GBGC ditties. It's a program that enables you to record several tracks, put effects on the them, adjust volume ... basically anything. Just recently, my computer-savvy sister showed me some more features like the Apple Loops and Musical Keyboard (enabling you to play your computer keyboard like a piano). I fooled around with the pre-fab loops some before, but the notion that I could change pitch and, basically, compose with this program was undiscovered territory. 

We had also been talking about how simple some popular songs are, musically, and we wondered how easy it may be to pen the next Eurovision Song Contest winner, or create Adele's next hit. 

And who do I have to call to make this happen? Please advise ...

In the meantime, here's the digital abomination of one of my most heartfelt acoustic songs. I guess it doesn't completely bother me that people are preferring this version to the original (which was never really "mastered" by the way. Just sayin' ....)

Wednesday Morning 4 a.m. A GBGC Quickie Original

Every artist needs an ambiguous sad song. Here's mine:


Wednesday morning 4 a.m.

I could feel you strugglin’
You had me worried, I wasn’t sure
Would you be the poison or be the cure

Wednesday morning 4 a.m.

Thursday all day, wonderin’
And then by Friday afternoon,
I was almost convinced you could never come too soon.

Friday evening was the end.

Will you ever come again?
Did you think you’d be disappointed?
Did you think I wouldn’t see it through?

Maybe you know me better than I do.

Who am I supposed to tell my stories to?
The decision is out of my control,
now I’m bleeding from the depths of my soul.

Wednesday morning 4 a.m.
Maybe I was only dreaming
of stupidity and love and other demons,
of unexpected answers to fill the void,
the magic gift that others have enjoyed.
Curtains close and worlds collide;
it might’ve worked, we might’ve tried for you.

Slow Song: A GBGC Quickie Original

This has been a wacky year. I'm just very, very discombobulated. I've got a thousand ideas flitting about in my head, a bunch of things to do, but don't seem to be able figure out where to channel the energy or lack thereof. I think this little ditty sums it up:

How to Play the Mandolin

Just when I thought I might never get another inspiration for a GBGC song, something came in the mail. It was a box so big, I thought a person might be in it. What it was, however, was a very carefully packed mandolin. A very dear friend gave it to me for Christmas because he knew I would know how to take care of it. I had no idea at the time what an adventure it would become to make use of what turned out to be, for most, a useless instrument.

I haven’t the slightest idea how to play the mandolin (okay, now a bit more than one week ago), and it took a lot of research and help from an expert to get the thing to sound as “good” as it does here. The mandolin is a very intricate and delicate instrument. The nut and the bridge are held in place only by the tension of the strings, and if they’re not in good shape, the performance is off.

This particular mandolin, much like the Bad Guitar, also has an innate mechanical flaw of its very own. It has an extra half a fret at the top of the neck, making the half-step improbable if not impossible. When I discovered that, I knew that this instrument was Totally Flawsome! ® and that it was now my duty to do more with it than just hang it up on the wall as decoration.

And so it came to pass, that the Bad Guitar found a mate. The Bad Mandonlin has a song of its very own, a metaphor for the failing mechanics of the human body and soul and the futility of reparation. 

lyrics property of grahamophone:

How do I play this mandolin?

It seems to be in even worse shape than I’m in

Dropped by an angel right before he fell,

and while he was falling he forgot to tell me

how to play this mandolin..

The lute player said, “well, you just have to tune it.”        

That’s easy to say- why don’t you try to do it.

It’s all fun and games ‘til one loses an eye,

I turn and I turn, and I try and I try, but oh 

why do I play this mandolin?

The grooves are too deep ‘cause the frets are all worn,

just like I fret at the dawn of each morn;

The neck it is warped and the bridge misaligned,

Who knows how many more faults I will find

if I try to play this mandolin.

I’ve checked the loose nut and I’ve checked the string’s gauge,

but this poor mandolin’s really showing its age;

the eight tuning pegs are all wound up and tight,

and if I’m not careful I’ll be up all night wondering

how to play this mandolin.

The body is weak and the saddle is tilted;

My spirit is meek and my heart has been jilted.

From the head to the tailpiece and to the F-hole,

there isn’t an angel who can save my soul

(CHORUS) 

So I dusted it off and I found some new strings

and I started to concentrate on other things

I tried prayers and magic and incantations

But this mandolin has its own intonation

Ah!

Just like me, it’s intrinsically flawed

but that doesn’t mean that it’s not loved by God

Lucifer, Michael or Rafael

or whoever dropped it, I pray that you tell me

(CHORUS)

Gotta Get Along: a GBGC Original for Election Year

Ah, it's that time again - presidential election year. The time when some of your friends expose themselves as vicious inhumane monsters, going against everything that you've ever held to be just and true. Well, rest assured, they're probably more afraid of you than you are of them. And both of you are claiming to be the more civil one, despite both of you spitting and spouting out opinions on the internet from the safe bunker of your own living rooms. You can't imagine what the world will be like if "the other guy" (or gal, as the case may be) wins. I've already vowed never to step foot in my homeland again should that occur, but in actuality, I suppose the world won't implode on itself. I do like a good spittin' match every now again, though, ruffling feathers and talking things out. 

Just for fun, I'll leave you with these utopian parting words:

JILL STEIN FOR PRESIDENT of the US 2012!!!

Now go vote!

And yes, those are my relatives, singing in perfect harmony: Totally Flawsome!
lyrics property of Grahamophone

Whether you’re an elephant or a donkey

a black man or a honky

the truth is we all gotta get along

Whether you’re Kirk Cameron or Bob Saget

a straight guy or a :fabulous guy

the truth is we all gotta get along

Gotta get along, gotta get along

gotta get along to sing this song.

To sing this song 

we all gotta get along....

Whether you think there’s global warming,

or that ice caps still keep forming 

the truth is we all gotta get along

Even if your faith isn’t in compliance 

with the principles of science

the truth is we all gotta get along

CHORUS

Talkin’ about Welfare, Healthcare, and Education

Talkin’ about Environment, Retirement and Immigration

Talkin’ about Tax Breaks, Job Stakes, and legalizing marijuana 

Talkin’ about Energy, Economy and closing Guatanamo!!

CHORUS

No matter how your vote’s a-swingin’

our voices still keep singin’

the truth is we all gotta get along

Gone Fishin' (for compliments)

In light of a recent premiere which got shred to pieces in the press (not moi, mind you, just in general), I thought it was time to finally finish this little ditty. It was written sometime in May, and filmed during a heatwave in Frankfurt. The weather hasn’t been nearly as nice since, nor have I been in need of a compliment. Things have been going well.

But it’s always good to have a song like this ready for a rainy day when nothing seems to be going your way.

Big ol’ fish in a little ol’ sea

it was like swimming in the kiddie pool, full of pee

so i ventured out seeking treasure in the ocean.

Now I’m a little ol’ fish in a dog-eat-dog world

The things some people say could make your nose-hairs curl

Spoutin’ out opinions every time they have the notion.

Your guitar’s out of tune, your voice is too squeaky

you act kinda weird, and you dress kinda freaky.

These unsolicited points of view are really starting to bore me.

So do me favor, if you’d be so kind.

I’m gonna step out for bit, if you don’t mind

Here’s what you can say to anyone looking for me:

Tell ‘em I’ve gone fishin’ for compliments,

hang a sign up out on the wall:

“Gone Fishin’ for compliments”

If you can’t say something nice

don’t say nothing at all.

Got my bait and my tackle, but nothing’s bitin’

I don’t care, i’ll just stay here, I don’t feel like fightin’

Not going to fall for it - hook, line nor sinker

I’m gonna stay right here ‘til I’m out of worms

playing by my rules, making my own terms

and if you don’t like it, well then, you’re just a stinker

Yeah, I’ve gone fishin’ for compliments,

hung a sign up out on the wall:

Gone Fishin’ for compliments,

if you can’t say something nice

don’t say nothing at all.