Anyways, i'm not too sure why I decided to come back on here, but something tells me i'm going to be here again in the upcoming weeks...not sure if that's good or bad.
J-moose
We chat about life, love, and all the things that make the world go round.
I haven’t a lot of time to write these days. With the release of the new record only days away, I’ve been doing a great deal of press and find myself too exhausted to ponder commenting on current events when I’ve free time. I commonly find myself sitting chairs, staring at nothing, trying to put all the pieces floating around in my head together regarding the upcoming tour – what songs to do, what not to do, how to go about it all in an impacting way.
I have well over 100 songs in my catalogue, which means that playing for 90 minutes, or even 120 minutes, is a significant challenge when it comes to deciding what to play. Obviously, performing 6 or 7 songs off the new record is a given, which leaves 7 to 9 others up in the air. You can’t please everyone, nor can I rehearse with a band for two weeks and get over, say, 80 songs down so that random numbers can be pulled out of thin air. It’s something that becomes more daunting every time I tour with a band – how to formulate the show.
On my way into town the other day I spent some time doing some homework. I listened to Beautiful Midnight from beginning to end. It’s hard to imagine that it came out ten years ago this month. It’s equally as hard to imagine that there was a time when I played most of those songs live. Were you to hand me a guitar and ask me to play A Boy And His Machine Gun or Failing The Rorschach Test the truth is that I couldn’t. I remember the melodies, but even the words have escaped me, not to mention the chord progressions. True, it wouldn’t be that difficult to quickly sit down and figure them out, but that just adds more fuel to the fire – what to play, what not to, what’s relevant, what isn’t.
The thing about being in a band is that the past is remembered, you retain the ability to pull out obscure songs from the past. When you’re a solo artist, and have a large catalogue of material, the process becomes far more difficult given the fact that even if those that play with you are brilliant musicians (which Stu, Blake, and Milos are), it’s simply impossible for us to work up that sort of live catalogue given that we live in different cities and the time that we have to prepare is limited. With the old band it was different. We had a rehearsal space, we could get together whenever we wanted. These days I have to fly to the other side of the country to do it. That would be why preparing for an acoustic tour is much easier and the songs that I’m able to perform are greater in number – because I can sit in my basement and do it.
I don’t even know where I’m going with this. I have a break in my schedule right now, so decided to sit down and write. I think I’m going to go lay down and think some more.
Ah thinking – the bane of my existence.
No more pain...
No more pain...
If I gave up tomorrow would the world even care? I'm not leaving a footprint, i'm not doing my share. I've had my fill of people and the way hold themselves. If I was giving up on them, i'd have to ask myself. Did you make sure they were happy, do you know that they're okay? If I was giving up them, i'd have to run away. And I know, that this world won't slow for them. It's too easy i'm not worthy of their time, but it's harder to forget, words and pictures that we have, so I write this down instead. I'm not sure I can help you, i'll only bring you pain, this isn't what I hope for, it's not like i'm to blame. It started with a promise I made some time ago. I asked for a favour which I just can't forget. My happiness comes second, because theirs I can't forget. I told myself be helpful, make them never walk away. I'm not sure I can keep this up, it's not like i'm around that much, so easily i'm scarred. When I see them hurting, it's hard to not break down.
I'm sorry for their sadness and I want to ease their pain, but when i'm all alone at night, i'm just another face.
I didn't intend to write this, but I heard a song by Matthew Good that inspired me. It's kind of written to the beat of said song, so technically I can't claim this as my own. If you interested, the song is "If I were A Tidal Wave" It's an acoustic track, and his acoustic stuff is pretty deep sometimes.
I've been looking for this song for a long time. Now I can dance to it.
Maxwell McKay
Ch 1.
In a young man's life, there are defining moments that pave his path to adulthood. The first, is his first kiss. Imagine if you will, a young man out on a date with the girl he admires so very much. He walks her up to her front step and she says the classic "I had a really nice time tonight" and he nods his head in agreement, palms sweaty as he rubs them against his jeans, trying to overcome his fear of the next few seconds. His mind his racing as he feels his body begin to move, yet he doesn't remember telling it to. Slowly, he reaches her lips and presses them against his, thus completing his first step into manhood. This was not the case for Max McKay. In fact, it had been quite the opposite for him. His first date had gone as well as one could expect it to, but when he tried to do this, his lady friend proceeded to go inside her house, and slam the door right on those puckered up lips. Yes, Max McKay was left high and dry with his lips, pulsing in pain. Oh, when I said slammed the door in his face, I mean literally slammed it in his face. It's a wonder nothing else got damaged, because in this writers opinion, that's all he has going for him.
Another stepping stone in a young man's life, is the first time he decides to drink. He's out with the boys, maybe a group of girls as well, having some fun, when...let's call him Timmy for intentive purposes, decides to pull out a bottle of rum or vodka, that he snuck out of his dad's cabinet and pass it around. Oh when that first drop of alcohol hit's that boy's mouth, he's hooked for the next 10-15 years, or at least until he get's married. That is if his wife isn't a male version of him, then all bets are off. This did not happen for Max Mckay. No, poor Max had a different tale of his first drink. Being the most daring out of his group of friends, it was Max who brought the booze, and it was Max who ended up drinking the most. His friends, unlike him, were able to control themselves, and had only a few sips of the drink they were offered. Max on the other hand decided that in order to liven things up, he would drink the whole bottle of vodka and see what would happen. If you use your imagination i'm sure you can figure it out.
Max ended up passing out on his friend Matthew's couch, only to awaken 20 minutes later and throw up on Matthew's carpet. Luckily, Matthew was home alone for a few days and figured out how to clean it before his parents ever found out. The third instance is probably the most obvious one, being the first time a man makes love. I won't go into details about this experience, as I've got more respect for myself and for anyone else out there who feel's awkward when reading about this topic. However, I will tell you about Max McKay's first time. As you probably guessed, it didn't happen in the regular perimeters of life. This is not to say that his first time wasn't memorable, but not so much in a good way. Max was at a party with his friends, having some drinks, letting themselves become intoxicated in the night, when he notices a girl from across the room. He quickly goes over and makes small talk for a few minutes, until she takes his hand and leads upstairs. She's goes into an empty room and tells him to wait before he comes in. Patiently, he did so, and before he knew it, her voice beckoned for him. He slowly reached for the door handle and walked in. Now, i'm going to let you assume that this ended badly for Max, as most events usually do. This was probably the worst of them all.
When Max opened the door, he saw two big, bruting guys standing there, cracking their knuckles. Two black eyes, a broken rip, and a sprained ankle later, Max wound up in a hospital, having his clothes taken from him, as well as his Wallet, his phone and his car keys. Life for Max McKay, was anything but ordinary.
This is his story.
This is going to be good. I can feel it,
J-moose