Lickin’ lyrics
"’Diane Warren’s success as a contemporary songwriter is unparalleled.’
That statement, taken from an ‘American Idol’ voiceover, is one of the saddest nine-word combinations in the English language."
–Daniel Frieberg
reviewer, zap2it.com
from an online review of an "American Idol" season 2 episode
You’re lucky if you get to do what you love for a living. You’re fortunate if you like what you do for a living and still get to do what you love on the side. Moving from the latter scenario to the former is the hard part.
Well, maybe not if working at Walgreen’s is your true passion in life, but if you want to be, say, a big, fat famous DJ, then it is.
Since buying my own decks in ‘02/’03 (the years are hazy, see), I’ve gotten pretty good. But I’m still working from CDs whereas vinyl is the norm. And while I enjoy clubbing, I don’t have any connections in the club scene. Were I more tech-saavy, I’d hawk my sample sets online, but you need a PC before you can design your own vainglorious personal web site.
I want to make my own music, too, but had to sell the flute back in college to pay for food (though I was first chair back in my day, holla!), and have all but forgotten those fourth grade piano lessons.
Where does that leave a brotha? With my fucking literary prowess and wonderful view of the world, tha’s where.
Normally, I don’t like people who "write poetry", but I’ve written one or two in my day, maybe had some published, maybe won an award. But the point is that a poem is just a song dressed up in Victorian stigma. Strip it down, slap on some music, and you’ve got yourself a bona fide tune. Now, I can do the stripping, just not the slapping, but I am awful good at it, I think.
Although it’s not too hard to surpass the lyrical depth of such pop music pabulum as, "I’m like a bird, I’ll only fly away, I don’t know where my home is, I don’t know where my soul is…." (hint: In a nest, upon a branch, in the wood. Don’t analogize unless you’re going to be accurate.) We do love our pop music, though, clogged as it is with trite sentiment and oversexed bravado, mmm. I wonder if people much listen to the words of a song at all nowadays?
Well, with the "lyricist market" screaming for new faces as it is, I decided to find out, and sent two samples of my work to a local label. And lo, got a response back yesterday from the label’s founder (who also happens to be one of my favorite DJs) saying that although he had nothing in the works at present, that they were "great lyrics", and if he has a project in the future that fits my lyrics, he will "definitely" contact me.
You know what that means?
My name. Bright-ass, blinking neon lights. Cover of "Gloss" "magazine." Little insert mini-interview in "Out".
Semi-fame!
I wanna live for quite some time!
Baby you’ll likely recognize myyy naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaame…
