Since October, roughly.
Initially I was invigorated by the success of the Call and Response show at the Canvas. I was immensely proud of the show, and especially proud of what I was capable of when I forced myself to work. Immediately, all these ideas for projects I had over the years percolated back up to the surface, no longer seeming like impossible dreams. New ideas and avenues sprung up before me.
But first, I needed a little break.
Although we had started working on the project during the early summer, I didn't really start producing work in bulk until August or September, and then I was frantically working at every possible moment. I don't know why, but my juices never seem to flow until the gun barrel is nestled comfortably, expectantly against my temple. We were literally still hanging portions of the show up until the 4 pm opening on First Friday. So after that last-minute-break-neck flurry of work, I felt I deserved a bit of break. And then I would push on.
That break ran about 6 months. The further I got from the show, the harder writing seemed to be. I'm not sure who said it, but I am sure I have been told many times that writing is like a muscle - to have it working properly and working as hard as it can, you have to exercise it. Instead of regularly jogging around the block, my writing muscle decided to flop on the couch, flip on HBO, and plow its way through Haagen-Dazs and Doritos.
Now I am trying to get back into the swing of things, and just like exercising, the first laps are the roughest. But at least I am back out on the track.
Donna and I have been talking about doing a second installment of Call and Response, so that's where my writing head has been at lately. I've been thinking about the pieces that we did before, and specifically the ones where I love the concept behind the piece, but feel like my writing didn't hit where I wanted it to hit. I'm going back and retooling these near misses, trying to get them into the shape that I wanted them to be the first time. I don't know if they will be incorporated into the next show, but if nothing else the retooling will at least satisfy my inner critic.
The one I come back to the most was called "The Singer" in the Call and Response show. This one was - and is - very tricky for me to get just right.
Those that know me well know that I have Strong Feelings About Music, and this piece is an ode to all my favorite singers - Billie Holiday, Thom Yorke, Bjork, Tom Waits, Joanna Newsom, Jonsi Birgisson, Amanda Palmer, Devendra Banhart... I could go on for quite a while.
Some of these singers are well respected for their voice, while others of them are usually written off. You could make a case against almost any one of these individuals for not being a technically good singer, and you would be right. Some of them have a limited range or no range at all, some can't stay in key ... all of this is true, but I don't really care.
What matters most for me is passion and believability. If they can bring those two assets to the table, I'm sold. I don't know how everyone else sees it, but I don't see passion as just belting out every note. A seductive whisper or a playful, bouncing line can have just as much passion as a soaring high note or a desperate howl, if it's in the hands of what I would call a gifted singer. Give me Jeff Mangum - or Amanda Palmer for that matter - belting out "Two Headed Boy" with every ounce of guts and conviction they have over a pitch perfect American Idol any day.
So with all that said, it's been very hard for me to capture that sentiment, that feeling that they all stir in me, in a creative way that I am satisfied with. Here's how the effort turned out for Call and Response:
"His voice is the sound of raw nerves, burning and exposed in the open air. I can taste his feeling, can feel the grit of his song in my teeth."
It felt like a good seed, and it worked well enough for the show, but I didn't feel like I was done with it yet. For one, it excluded all the female singers that move me, by virtue of personal pronouns used. So I started brooding on it, flipping it over and over again, trying to think of what I was going to do with it, but mostly ignoring it during my long vacation from writing.
I finally started to do some real work on it today:
The pictures above were taking with my phone, so you'll have to bear with the quality. No one ever gets to see my works in progress like this, either, which makes you Very Special, just like your mother always said.Anyhow.
The first thing I did was cut out the masculine personal pronouns, and just started scribbling gibberish that came to mind when I was thinking of particular singers, or their voice in particular songs. Then I started cutting out bits that didn't roll right, or scratched again and again till I found a word that fit. I questioned one section's existence, circled one I felt was important but that I was unsure of how to incorporate. Then I started numbering them in the order that I thought they should run.
The following is what I have come up with so far. The title is now probably "Your Voice" or "To The Bone"
_ _ _
Your voice skips
through puddles, through fields
chirping, unashamed
bursting with innocent power.
Your voice swims around me
like silky smoke
steamy, seductive,
teasing towards release.
Your voice is a knife
slipping effortlessly
through skin,
through flesh,
through nerves,
through blood,
to the heart, to the bone.
I can taste the grit of your song in my teeth.
_ _ _
It still feels like a good start, and it still doesn't feel 100% done. I really like the "raw, exposed nerve" part from the previous draft and today's note, but I haven't figured a way to work it in yet that feels right. And I am not sure about the last line, either. I am inching closer, though.
