My head is a broken record

“Just how lonely can lonely be?” by Southern Culture on the Skids is one of the covers I’m learning.   I’ve got it down, guitar parts memorized.  It’s pretty simple, just rooting the words down into my brain so they’ll stick and I can get off the page.  I really like the structure of this song and it fits right in with my material.

I’ve never had much of a memory for certain types of data – the order of presidents, important years of historical events (minus the depression 29-32) have always escaped me.  One thing though that does not escape me is a song.  Especially a song that I’m working on.  I can hear all the parts in my head and when it’s really bad it’s like a pinball machine on tilt.

I had a super interesting conversation with my father recently.  He brought up this story from my past and asked me if I recalled it… I had come home from Neva King Cooper Middle School with a less than stellar report card.  He was displeased.  I was in my parents walk in closet and he was yelling at me.  His exact words were, “What in the hell goes through your head all day?”

One thing about my father was that he could smell a lie.  And lying to him was akin to an enormous betrayal.  I weighed the consequences and decided immediately that the pure truth was in order.  I looked up at him and said, “Songs.  Songs go through my head all day.”  He looked at me utterly confused and was unsure what to say.  I think at that point I was wanting to audition for Annie so it was songs like, “It’s a Hard Knock Life, Tomorrow, You’re Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile,” etc.  I would hear the melodies and the songs as if they were on repeat.  And it was impossible to get it to stop.  Sometimes it was the last thing I heard as I got out of the car.

Now here I am, three CD’s later, songs placed with publishers and on apps and my dad said to me, “It didn’t make any sense to me back then, but it sure makes sense now.”  And it does.  Perhaps it’s just part of my creative process.  I had a voice teacher along the way say, “It’s not how much you practice but how well you practice. Sometimes the best practice is mental.”  I never have to worry about not having a radio.  😉