My Pop Deficiency

I was once reading a book by Neil Peart -- it might have been Ghost Rider -- in which he mentioned something about having, as part of him, an "inner teenaged girl" -- or something to that effect -- who craved the sappiest of pop songs. Neil, of course, is the drummer/lyricist of the great progressive rock trio, Rush, so this was surprising to me to read. I was also pleasantly surprised by his affinity for Frank Sinatra. (Why I would be surprised, I don't know -- we do tend to over-simplify our reading of people, don't we?)

Anyway, I know what he is talking about. I just posted this the other day on Facebook:

"I keep trying to write straight-forward pop songs, but it always feels like kissing with one lip."

I have to say, I am often moved by a simple tune with a great "hook." There's something to that kind of writing that is admirable. But I just can't seem to bring myself to write "baby I miss you so much" lyrics and I tend to find myself wandering in more experimental directions, involuntarily, in terms of harmony and song structure. Still, part of me wants to write for my "inner teenaged girl."

(Okay I do realize how weird that phrase sounds, just for the record, but it makes the point...)

"Nuke" LaLoosh and Me: The Myth of the Creative Process

Crash and Nuke

I love baseball. I also love baseball movies -- the greatest of all time being, of course, Field of Dreams. But one of my other favorites is the comedy Bull Durham. In he film, there is a young pitcher, "Nuke" LaLoosh (Tim Robbins), who is talented but...unfocused. (Okay -- he's an idiot.) Kevin Costner's "Crash" Davis and Susan Sarandon's Annie Savoy have the task of grooming Nuke for the majors. Crash takes the baseball experience approach, but Annie goes a more philosophical route.

When Nuke loses his control on the mound, Annie has him wear women's underwear ("Rose goes in the front, big guy.") and she tells him to breathe through his eyelids. In essence, what she gets him to do is to stop thinking about pitching and just "let it happen." This works for Nuke.

Kurt, the bassist in my band, used to look back at me when he made a mistake on stage and he would point to his head, implying that mistake came when he started thinking.