One man's shit is another man's fetish

hmm, that doesn't sound quite right. Maybe I should stick with the one man's trash is another man's treasure version of this adage. Regardless, I give this simple phrase to you, Mr. S in Vermont, yes you. There are a few special people strategically place around the globe who have the distinction of being my sounding boards. I send them little clips, demos and unfinished, unmastered versions of songs. I have a hard time keeping a lid on it, I guess, so I trust that these people will listen and do what I'm unable to do, keep it to myself.

Mr Sanford has been kind enough to take a hard listen to a few tracks from the new album. Recently I received a phone message from the illusive Vermont man whose next trip to NYC is long overdue. The voicemail appeared to be a followup to his previous email where he seemed to have taken a very strong liking to the song, Throw that box. However this time around I was informed that one Mr. S could not wrap his head around Mamma Don't Like No Chocolate. I know. It's not for everyone. In fact one person told me that the title alone might foster suspicions of racism when coupled with my last name, German and my pasty white skin.

Music is a marvelous and splendid little thing. There are songs of mine that I think are on the weaker side that others praise and fawn over. Then there are the songs that I think are genius and other people think are silly or just don't get. Sometimes a hammer is a necessary tool as a musician. Sometimes a feather will do just nicely. Sometimes people mistake a hammer for a feather and what was meant to be a gentle caress can send an innocent nipple to the emergency room. Sometimes it's not a feather or a hammer but rather candle wax or cookies and cream ice cream. Sometimes my words are only meant to be understood by a few people who are "in the know."

I feel blessed to have sounding boards. I can't please you all, but if I had more arms, I would try. I'll please you where I can and just have to accept that I may fall short of the mark at times. In the end I've just got to do what needs to be done to complete the tasks at hand whether they be songs or sinking into the carpet and talking to god, while deciding whether I am going to cry or laugh for the devil.

next up.....God in the telephone book.

Sunday=Mamma

photo by and of Carrie Thomas
On Sunday I went into the studio and worked on Mamma Don't Like No Chocolate.
I've posted the lyrics for this song, which is taking me to a very "Rock" place.

Most people categorized Sirens of Brooklyn as folk and although there will still be many elements of folk to this album, it seems to be going somewhere else. I will be back in the studio in a couple days working on some new songs.

I finished Cherry Falls and I'm not sure what to do with it.
A part of me wants to hold onto it and not release it on Sunrise, but there is another part of me that says I would be censoring myself. I find myself torn between raw emotion and palatability. I'm not sure which of these will win.

This brings me to an interesting thing that has been going on=a happier guitar version of This 2 shall pass and a calmer/slower version of Sirens of Brooklyn.
I am considering a project after sunrise that would be a reworking of songs from both Sirens and Sunrise along with some b-sides.

Mamma Don't Like No Chocolate-Lyrics

Photo by Carrie Thomas

Mamma
Sittin' on the porch swing
while the stopsign's a rattlin'
in the bitter breeze

Mamma
waitin' for her baby
wonderin' will he come back to me
oh baby please

Mamma don't like
Mamma don't like
Mamma don't like it
Mamma don't like no chocolate
cuz it is too sweet

Mamma
Starin' out the window
wonderin' why did he go
go away from me

Mamma's
too young to be dying
too dried up from cryin'
and too old to be free

Mamma don't like
Mamma don't like
Mamma don't like it
Mamma don't like no chocolate
cuz it hurts her teeth

Mamma
I'm sorry I'm so selfish
I'm sorry I can't help it
I'm to set in my own ways

You think it's the devil in my boudoir
but I must admit that so far
he ain't come out to play

Mamma don't like
Mamma don't like
Mamma don't like it
Mamma don't like no chocolate
cuz it hurts her teeth