Writing sessions for me are nothing like a lightning flash. They’re more like cranking up an old generator one rotation at a time until there’s enough juice going to power things along. This was especially the case while writing for Byron Clarke’s album “Self Inflicted,” (especially on “How The Story Goes.”). I remember now how we sat for hours agonizing over each word, how it fit with imagery of the song, whether the cadence and timing was right and of course whether or not the emotion was genuine.

Below is a 1981 of Michael Jackson and Quincy Jones in studio working on Billie Jean. MJ doesn’t have the words yet, he’s just scatting, looking for inspiration inbetween the sounds and in the groove. And that’s what makes it so cool, he’s working on his creativity in a very non creative, almost academic manner. And that gives me some hope.

More often than not, the force is not strong with me and I need to drag every syllable out of the strange and fuzzy place in my head that my words come from. I can’t book a ticket to that place and just get what I need on a schedule, but listening to one of the greatest creative minds in music (at least in my opinion) do things in much the same way, makes me want to take a trip to my strange and fuzzy word corner.

How are you inspired? Does is strike like a municipal worker or bubble up like a minister’s salary?

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img src www.sxc.hu

It rained on that Friday night. But then, it always rained on Friday nights, These thoughts and not many others puttered around in his mind as he stepped out on to the sodden sidewalk. Why did it always rain on Fridays?

Home. Sleep. Alone. Peace.

What more could a man ask for after a hard week’s work? He lifted his gaze to plot his path home and then, he saw her. Or rather his eyes traced the slow sensuous path of her hips as she walked in the rain. Simplistically functional in her manner yet at once seductive and deliberate, he stared as she strode on. Swaying from side to side, effortlessly gliding forward. She turned  to check for oncoming traffic and in the process unwittingly caught his gaze. Fleetingly and only for a second, but she had seen him. Or rather she’d seen him watching her.

His pace quickened almost unconsciously to make up the distance between them. The dull thud of his footsteps beating hard against the tar, surreptitiously closing in on the click clack of her heels echoing on the quiet street. She turned again as if to check for cars, but her eyes never quite reached the street. Again the hint of a smile, this time with a flash in her eyes – an invitation. He walked a little faster and fought a little harder to catch up as they danced along the drizzled roads, each breath punctuated by the staccato rhythm of her footsteps.

In the distance, a glaring light slowly approached. Low slung and menacing, the beams cut through the velvet darkness. The low pitched drone of an approaching engine grew louder and he turned to study the sweeping lines of the car as it drove by. It was everything he had ever envied – powerful, elegant, graceful and expensive beyond his means. Transfixed, he stared as it slid by, its black, serpentine lines soaking up the dim rays from the street lamps. If he’d been able to look a little closer, he might have seen the driver looking not for somewhere to go, but someone to be with. Might have seen the empty passenger seat. Might have felt the loneliness. As it was, the drone of the engine drifted off as he watched closely with envy, but didn’t see nearly enough.

Suddenly he turned, remembering the dance and the walk and the smile. But she was gone. His footsteps quickened, his pulse raced and his breathe stopped short as he took ever broader strides to try and make up the distance. But she was gone. At the next corner he swiveled to check the streets and made out her silhouette in the distance. Her slow, deliberate gait stalling for time, slowly inviting him to follow. He stared ahead at his route, his destination, then swiveled again. She had taken the road she needed to follow and he, well, he needed to get where he was going too. He had his own road, his own path.

His destination was not one he particularly wanted to visit, but rather the one he was expected to arrive at. The place he was supposed to be. He hesitated for the briefest of moments and wondered why he hadn’t followed her, but he knew why. He knew that if he’d only seen her smile again or watched the sway of her step just a little longer, he would have been captivated and would not be walking to his dark, empty house now. But he’d missed it, he had been distracted. The moment was gone. And so he walked on.

As he continued silently home, an engine roared dimly in the distance, drifting on the wind. The far off squeal of tyres desperately biting at the tar before the harrowing crunch of metal on metal.

And still her footsteps rang out like rifle shots, so far off in a distant direction as he walked slowly and alone.

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Groove Shark is a free streaming audio service that allows you to play music in a browser window. The company also offers a paid VIP service that offers an Adobe Air desktop application so that you can play music outside of your browser. Follow the steps below to save yourself $3 a month (especially useful considering how temperamental Groove Shark can be)

Here’s how to build your own Groove Shark desktop player in just a few minutes with Mozilla Prism.

1. Download & install Mozilla Prism from Mozilla Labs

http://prism.mozillalabs.com/

Prism is an application that lets you split web applications out of your browser and run them directly on your desktop

2. Set your URL

Set http://listen.grooveshark.com/ as the URL you would like to use for your new desktop application.

That’s it – you now have a free desktop Groove Shark player

Optional

• I have set my Groove shark application to display in my Quicklaunch menu for easy access.

• You can also change the icon that you see in the quick launch menu to a Groove Shark icon. You can download the Groove Shark icon here:http://tinylab.tumblr.com/post/325152905/just-a-grooveshark-icon-for-your-mac-pc-icns. To change the icon, simply right click the icon, select Properties and click on Change icon. Now you can select your new GS icon.

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(if you’re peeping on facebook, go here to read this)

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Three people in the last few weeks have tried to convince me that Lil Wayne is not only real hip, but also the future of hip hop. If you’d said pop – sure. Commercial rap – ok. But Hip Hop? I think not.

Now stop trying to convince that what the tattooed midget makes is hip hop and go listen to some Rakim or Common. Please be careful around the lyrics though – I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself while handling a sharp paragraph.

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Krafty Kuts is one seriously fresh mo fo… After seeing him live a couple of times, I feel I’m qualified to let you know that this shit will have you hugging the ceiling in no time.  He’s dropped a (mostly) fresh new blend on his Soundcloud page, but I know how lazy you can be – which is why I’m towed it here for you. With some hip hop classics mushed with break beat wickedness, sandwhiched with some funk and  mixed with a soul joint or two or squeezed in to one juicy set, you’d better get a stiff drink and make some space before bumping this shizz too loudly.

If you’re readin this on Facebook – click here to get your ears soaked in awesome

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It’s a problem.

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Rocking the same electronically fuelled fuck you, its the kind of music that you can vibe to or get drunk to, possibly in that order. Needless to say, I’ve been digging the dinges out of these boys with Gauloise inspired sound. Rock on. Bleep. Squeek. And besides, you can’t now love a band that has P.YT as a lyric.

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[Into]
Dear God, I’m trying hard to reach you
Dear God, I see your face in all I do
Sometimes, it’s so hard to believe it…
But God, I know you have your reasons
(Uh huh)

[Verse 1]

They said he’s busy hold the line please
Call me crazy, I thought maybe he could mind read
Who does the blind lead?
Show me a sign please
If everything is made in China, are we Chinese?

And why do haters separate us like we siamese?
Technology turning the planet into zombies
Everybody all in everybody’s dirty laundry
Acid rain, earthquakes, hurricane, tsunamis

Terrorist, crime sprees, assaults, and robberies
Cops yellin’ stop, freeze
Shoot him before he try to leave
Air quality so foul, I gotta try to breath
Endangered species
And we runnin’ out of trees

If I could hold the world in the palm of these
Hands, I would probably do away with these anomalies
Everybody checkin’ for the new award nominee
Wars and atrocities
Look at all the poverty

Ignoring the prophecies
More beef than broccoli
Corporate monopoly
Weak world economy
Stock market topplin’
Mad marijuana oxycotton and klonopin
Everybody out of it?

[Hook]

Well I’ve been thinkin’ about
And I’ve been breakin’ it down
Without an answer

I know I’m thinking out loud

http://www.elyricsworld.com/dear_god_2.0_lyrics_the_roots.html

But if you’re lost and around
Why do we suffer?
Why do we suffer?
(Uh huh)

[Verse 2]

Yeah… It’s still me, one of your biggest fans
I get off work
Right back to work again
I probably need to go ahead and have my head exam
Look at how they got me on the Def Jam payment plan

Well, I’m in the world of entertainment and
Trying to keep a singing man sane for the paying fans
If I don’t make it through the night, slight change of plans
Harp strings, angel wings, and praying hands

Lord, forgive me for my shortcomings
For going on tour and ignoring the court summons
All I’m trying to do is live life to the fullest
They sent my daddy to you in a barrage of bullets

Why is the world ugly when you made it in your image?
And why is livin’ life such a fight to the finish?
For this high percentage
When the sky’s the limit
A second is a minute, every hour’s infinite

[Outro]

Dear God, I’m trying hard to reach you
Dear God, I see your face in all I do
Sometimes, it’s so hard to believe it..

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Related posts:

1. The Swinger’s Club