I’m back in the UK. During the trip we managed to go a full 24 hours without sleeping. No jet lag cure will remedy that situation. I feel like my brain will fall out of my head. So, here’s a song I like. It’s Sly and the Family Stone, not Doris Day. I’ll post tomorrow.
I’ve been editing my latest novel recently. Editing is hard work, but it needs to be done. I have books and books planned in my head, but I have to finish this one first.
Much like when I write, I like to listen to music when I edit. The editing music of choice this time is Little Elevator by Kirk Adams. If you don’t know that album, I feel sorry for you. You really should get to know it. Find out more about it here.
Just today my husband said, “Everyone writes stupid lyrics except for John Lennon and Kirk Adams.” If that’s not an endorsement I don’t know what is.
Just a quick note. The Mooch will start having a video component soon–as soon as I get my act together.
I’ve been learning to play the guitar recently. It’s really fun. There’s something about being really terrible at some things that pleases me. So far I’ve learned to play Fool on the Hill and Hallelujah terribly.
I’m currently working on Redemption Song. Part of learning to play these songs is learning the lyrics. I never realized how wrong I get lyrics much of the time. For example, I always that the first line of Redemption Song was “Old pirates yes they’re rabbi.” In reality Redemption song has nothing to do with a rabbi or rabbis pretending to be pirates or pirates dressed as rabbis. But doesn’t it sound like he’s saying old pirates yes they’re rabbi to you?
Finding the perfect music to write to is so important. Songs creep into my imagination and plant the seeds for stories.
Recently I’ve been listening to The Sea by Corinne Bailey Rae. I’m not usually into pop albums. I’m not really mainstream and I don’t usually like my music to be mainstream either, but there’s something about this album. Check it out.
Here’s a video from it.
Yesterday, I pulled out my sewing machine to continue my never ending learning to sew project. For some reason I thought I’d buy a sewing machine and automatically know how to use it. I mean I’ve seen people sew before. It can’t be that hard, right?
Boy, was I wrong about that one. I mean, I don’t know who’s more uncooperative the sewing machine, the fabric or the thread. All I know is that it isn’t my fault the fabric keeps puckering every time I try to attach sleeves to the shirt I’m making.
I like to listen to music while I sew. The sewing machine isn’t loud enough for me. I have to add some noise to that. I’m trying to slowly go deaf.
While searching through Spotify for a something good to listen too, I discovered that Charlie Hunter has a new album, Gentlemen, I Neglected to Inform You You Will… When I listened to it I was pleased to discover it’s just as wacky as his previous album, but this album includes a horn section.
I love to share the music I like with you. So click this this link to download “You Look Good In Orange” from Charlie Hunter’s newest album for free. If you like it why not buy it from Amazon
My husband is making music videos again. He emailed me this song about two weeks ago and happily told me that he wrote the lyrics himself. Then last week he set up the camera in the living room and started doing a bunch of strange movements. “This video is going to be great!” he kept saying.
Here is the great video we’ve all been waiting for. Maybe he should send it to Celestial Seasons or Bigelow. It could be their next herbal tea commercial.
I’m not sure why he thinks showing his teeth the whole time is somehow menacing and frightening.
If you liked this song you might like his CD.
This is the video my husband made inspired by the nostalgic video I mentioned in the last post.
My husband has a CD by a popular Congolese musician that he listens to all the time. He especially likes the vocals. So he’s decided to learn to sing one of the songs phonetically.
The other night he happily sang it to me. He learned it in the car driving to and from gigs. “What do you think?” he asked. He was looking very pleased with himself.
“Very good,” I said.
He explained to me which parts were difficult to learn. Then he sang it again. “Maybe I’ll sing it on a gig.”
When I asked him what it meant, he said that he had no idea. How could he consider singing something in public if he has no idea what it means? “It could mean anything,” I told him. “You could be singing kill whitey.” We laughed.
I think he’s still determined to sing it on a gig. I just hope no Congolese people are in the audience when he does.
