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.