Tag Archives: Music

My Musical Blame Game

31 Aug

Those who know me, know my deep love affair with music. I have written about it on multiple occasions  and have declared my obsession in all the ways I can think of. Hell, my children should thank their lucky stars I didn’t actually name them something crazy like “Treble Clef” or “Turntable”. I mean, could you image their first day of kindergarten?

“Timothy?” the teacher rings out.

“Here!” Timothy replies.

“Talia?” she calls out once again.

“Present!” Talia replies.

“Treble, um, Treble Clef? Is there a Treble Clef present?”

“I’m right here, BITCH!” My son snarkily screams.

Yeah, as awesome as that scenario sounds, I am willing to bet my little Treble Clef would have one hell of a fucked up childhood. Therapy for the win!

Anyway, as we digress into the wild inner workings of my dark and twisted mind, the revelation that sparked the hamster on the wheel that lives inside my cranium the other day was quite profound. Okay, maybe that is a little bit of a stretch. Profound may be way too big of a word for me to comprehend anyway. So let’s just say that my teeny tiny brain figured out something new. Something new, that quite possibly, I have known all along.

Music can lead you to many, many avenues of creativity.

Now, think about that for a minute. We all know that music can present all kinds of muses in an infinite amount of forms. By merely hearing a melody, greatness can occur. Be it an orchestra, an idea for a screenplay, or even the latest design for that fresh pair of kicks you want to sport on that first date.

But alas, I am not talking about muses here. I am not talking about that inspiration brought on by the melodic sounds that grace your eardrum and tickle the neurons in your brain. No, this is actually less deep than that. It’s really quite simple actually.

As I plugged my iPhone into my auxiliary car jack the other day and hit random, I was transported to my usual state of euphoria when I cranked my stereo up past eleven. But then, seemingly out of nowhere, my brain started to think. And as we all know, for me, thinking is usually quite dangerous.

The very first song to spark the subwoofer was Kanye West’s “Blame Game”. As I listened to the lyrics, I mean ACTUALLY LISTENED to the lyrics, something sparked my interest like no other.

“Things used to be, now they not
anything but us is who we are
disguising ourselves as secret lovers
we’ve become public enemies
we walk away like strangers in the street
gon for eternity
we erased one another
so far from where we came
with so much of everything, how do we leave with nothing
lack of visual empathy equates the meaning of L-O-V-E
hatred and attitude tear us entirely”

And as he finished his verse, he did something totally unexpected. He actually cited the author of the words from whom he borrowed. Underneath his breath he muttered the name “Chloe Mitchell“.

Kind of taken back, I was instantly intrigued with who this woman could be. So, as soon as I pulled into work and sat down at my computer, my fingers pounded my keyboard in search of Chloe Mitchell. And what I found was so hauntingly and most definitely the most beautifully harsh love poem I have ever read.

*****

Your Bitter Is My Sweet/Blame Game

Things used to be. Now they’re not. Anything but us is who we are. Disguising ourselves as secret lovers, we’ve become public enemies. We walk away like strangers in the street. Gone for eternity, we erase one another. No phone calls. No sweet text messages. We are mere specs of particles, floating, unknown to our partners’ existence. So far from where we came. With so much of everything, how do we leave with nothing? Lack of visual empathy equates to the meaning of L.O.V.E. Hatred and attitude tear us entirely. We meet at opposite poles and no longer can we bond like love birds to a song or flowers to a Daisy. The air smells of rotten love and burned hearts. We have trashed our over cooked love that now accompanies the bin of deceit. Don’t turn around. Continue walking away. Disappear into that darkness that rests upon your gritty shoulders. Let that dark cloud follow you wherever you go. So long ex-lover. Farewell.

-Chloe Mitchell

Wow. I mean, WOW. I was just astonished by what I had read. Her words struck a chord so deep I actually had goosebumps. If you have ever had a breakup in your life, I am sure you could relate on some level. If not, you’re a lucky one and I pity your delicate soul.

So, without warning, music let me to discover something I never knew existed. It did not inspire me. It did not give me that creative muse like it has done a multitude of times before. No, this time it was different. This time music allowed me to discover someone else’s pain, someone else’s creativity. And I, for one, am so glad it did.

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Your Words, Your Melodies

11 May

You and I go way back.

As far as I can remember, you’ve been there right smack-dab next to me.

On my first day of school, you were there to cheer me up when I was just a scared and timid little boy.

As the summertime breeze blew through that window of that old station wagon my mother drove, you were there filling the air with your words, your melodies.

It was you that soothed my soul as I sat and watched a frail 50-year-old man become one with the earth and make his peace with god.

You were the shoulder I cried on when the 17-year-old version of myself was convinced he would never love again.

It was your touch, your lyric that kept that 10-year-old boy and 8-year-old girl safe and happy as they waited patiently for their mother to return home from diligently working triple shift after triple shift to provide for her own.

It was you that stood by me as I watched my own two children come into this world.

It was your skill, your precision that all but single-handedly pulled me out of that hospital bed a year ago.

Never wavering, you’ve stood by my side through the toughest of times.

You have always been that light at the end of the tunnel.

You have always been the life of every party.

Always a conundrum and forever a walking, talking contradiction, you were always the most popular, yet one of the most nomadic of outcasts.

I’ve cursed you. I’ve praised you. I’ve loved you. And I’ve hated you.

I’ve abandoned you for months on end, but that never once bothered you or made you feel anything less for me.

You can bring me to tears with a single word. You and only you can put a smile on my face and change my whole outlook on life.

Our love affair has been passionate to say the least. But one thing is for certain. I will always have you and you will always have me. I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried. You wouldn’t let me. And for that, I will always be thankful.

So, take a bow. You deserve all the recognition you can get.

Thank you for always being there, Music. Without you, I wouldn’t have made it this far.

A Techno Kind Of Night

19 Apr

This last weekend, I had the privilege of hanging out with some of the finest DJs the Midwest has to offer. The crews over at PhulPhunk and Kansas City Techno got together and put on one hell of a free show for the internets. Come and take a look at just a few of the snapshots I took that night.

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And Elsewhere

10 Dec

I’ve been a busy internet bee this week. After a few weeks off the radar, I am back in action full force. So, get to clicking and read away!

This week at MamaPop:

Tuesday’s Post: HIMYM Season Six Recap: Episode 11 “The Mermaid Theory”

Thursday’s Post: Mashup Of The Year? The Notorious XX

Friday’s Post: Want To Ride Unicorns With Robert Pattinson? That’ll Cost You $80K

This week at Draft Day Suit:

Wednesday’s Post: Zack Greinke And Trade Rumors Go Together Like Peas And Carrots

Thursday’s Post: Matt Cassel Has Appendectomy, Further Proof God Hates Kansas City

30 Days Of Truth: Day Thirteen

7 Dec

Day 13- A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)

I can still hear your smooth and sexy melodies as if it were the first time my ears heard such heaven on Earth. As I laced up my roller skates, I could feel the bass from the speakers resonate through my body. It was time. Time to get my groove on. And then you spoke to me. And it went a little something like this.

“I’ve been waiting all night
So just let me hold you close to me
‘Cause I’ve been dyin’ for you girl
To make love to me”

So simple, yet so powerful. My eleven year old mind totally knew exactly what you were trying to convey. You wanted to make love. You possibly were sick because you were dying. Maybe you got shot? Maybe you had some rare cancer? You were dying. That was sad. And yet, all you wanted to do was make love to this girl. You wanted to make out with her. Tell her she’s pretty. Take her to church. Maybe, just maybe, a little up the shirt action. I wouldn’t get your hopes up though. I mean, you were DYING. And that was still really sad. Still, above all your pain, you just wanted to kiss and hug this girl. At eleven years old, I could totally respect that.

I am thirty years old now. A long time has passed since I first heard your words of wisdom. Many moons have risen in the sky. I have, indeed, had my fair share of said “up the shirt action”. So, I guess a thank you is in order. Thanks to you, I know how to officially sex somebody up. Thanks to you, Color Me Badd, I know how to make a woman feel real good and possibly, just possibly do it ’til we both wake up. Although, I am not really sure what you meant by that. But trust me, your advice did not fall on deaf ears. I now have sex awake ALL the time. No more sleep fucking for me. That’s what you were trying to tell me to do, right? Stay awake? Make her stay awake too? Yeah, I thought so.

So, here’s to you Color Me Badd. I owe all my sexual prowess to you. I cannot thank you enough. And whenever I’m feeling oh so very naughty, I just add and extra “D” to the end of bad. Why? Simple. That always lets my lover know exactly what I am thinking. I’m BADD and she knows it.

 

 

30 Days Of Truth: Day Twelve

17 Nov

Day 12- Something you never get compliments on.

Finally something that isn’t all dark and demented to write about! Like most, I don’t take compliments well at all. When someone blurts out something nice to me, I freeze like a deer in headlights. My brain doesn’t work. Eventually, I just mumble something incoherent and change the subject. And absolutely no eye contact. That would be just wrong! Anyway, sometimes there are things that I desperately wish someone would just occasionally compliment me on. Just every once in a while, a random nudge or smack on the ass for a job well done would be nice. What am I talking about? Simple. Things. Yes, things. Very descriptive, huh? Okay, okay. I’ll give you some examples. Read on!

1) My hairiness

Yes, I am one hairy son of a bitch. It’s like I’m the lovechild produced by a wild threesome with the Wolfman, Chewbacca, and Robin Williams. I mean, I know I was born out of love and all, but my god. I can thank the heavens that all my hair is in the right place. No back or shoulder dreads. Nothing gross like that. But sheesh. You remember that scene in The 40 Year Old Virgin? The one where they waxed Steve Carell’s character? Yeah, that’d be me.

2) My vast knowledge of pop culture and everything that surrounds it

I have a brain. Sometimes I use it for good. But most of the time I am thinking about the top music hits of 1993. Or reciting every single line from the movie Friday. Or thinking about how cool Hypercolor shirts still are and where I could go out and buy one. Or how Can’t Hardly Wait is one of the best movies ever. Or how I should have won the lead role in Varsity Blues over James Van Der Beek. Or wishing Dr. Dre would call me and we could finally produce my debut rap album. See? COMPLETELY useless mind I have. This goes on all day long. Well, until someone waves something shiny in my face.

3) My ability to white man dance like no other

The Roger Rabbit? Check. The Running Man? Check. White man’s overbite? Double check. No, scratch that. TRIPLE CHECK. Respect these skills, folks. Respect.

4) My immunity to all things tequila

I’ve never met a tequila I didn’t like. (On second thought, that does not include Tila Tequila. Y’all can keep that shit.) Hell, I even love tequila’s bastard cousin mezcal. I like the expensive ones, but will drink them as dirty as they come. Just throw a little dirt and cigarette ashes into my shot for good measure.

5) My love for shitty and truly disastrous television

Not only do I subject myself to hours and hours of television that nobody in their right mind would watch, I rather enjoy it. Shows like 90210 (yes, the new one), America’s Next Top Model, and anything with Bret Michaels boning chicks left and right. I love this shit. It’s soothing to my soul. All I have to do is watch an episode of Celebrity Rehab and I feel brand new again.

So, the next time you see me dancing shirtless with a shot of tequila in my hand all while spewing out random pop culture tidbits and watching shitty television at the same time, be sure you compliment me. For fuck’s sake, I’m dying over here!

This Week @ MamaPop

1 Oct

This has been one crazy week for me over at MamaPop! This week, I had not one, not two, but four posts! That is double my normal amount of posts in any given week. So, with all that hard work, I give you the links! Please enjoy responsibly!

Monday’s Post: Top Five Movies That Make You Feel Gangsta

Tuesday’s Post: How I Met Your Mother Season 6 Recap: Episode 2 “Cleaning House”

Thursday’s Post: ANTM Cycle 15 Recap: Episode 4 “Matthew Rolston”

Friday’s Post: Top Ten Movie Hookers Of All Time

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