Welcome to my blog! This is the latest in a series of "Album Preview" posts I'm doing to raise awareness (and hopefully excitement) for my upcoming album. I need your help! Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com to donate to help make the album happen. Thank you, and enjoy the post!
***RECORDING IS ONE WEEK AWAY! ONE WEEK!***
"Ave Regina"
This is my most recent song, written about two weeks ago. It is an intensely personal song, so there are some bits of it that I cannot discuss. (The names have been changed to protect the innocent)
This preview will be a bit different in that I will discuss some of the main themes of the song, and then provide a bit of the back story, so you can see how it all fits.
1 - Death Imagery: ever since I was a little kid, I've had moments where I am suddenly struck with the notion of my own mortality. That what I've come to see as a constant (my life) is actually always fading really hits me every so often, usually at night. I have a panic attack, and once I calm down I try to accept the fact that life is indeed a blazing one-way street. So get while the getting is good. Or don't. Either way, we know where we're headed.
So, I was very much scared of death and of others around me dying; of the unreached potential and the fear that is associated with that. I never like talking about death or what I want to happen or even about other people's death. It's always been an incredibly nerve-wracking and unpleasant experience (which is probably not that drastically different from others, I know).
To that end, I think if I am able to sing about death, or sing about the images around death, it might finally show some maturity about the subject. After all, fear is a form of immaturity, a way of stifling any pursuit of knowledge about a something. Fear cripples us, and leaves us incapable of learning about the thing being feared. So to write using death imagery, to me, would represent a shedding of that fear. It would be a step forward to being comfortable in my own skin, and in my own life.
"Ave Regina" uses death imagery several times. I talk about dirges, requiems, about dying for "the first time". I'll get into more of these later on. And there's a reason for all the death imagery, which I will also get into. But I haven't had any late night freak-outs about my own mortality lately, and I really believe this is why.
2- The phrase "Ave Regina": In Latin, this means "Hail to the Queen". The more famous "ave" is "Ave Maria", which in Catholicism refers to Jesus' mother, Mary. There are several hymns and prayers that we Catholics sing to honor Mary, who is regarded as the most sacred mortal being ever. Catholics believe Mary was a special person, no doubt, but that she was not divine herself. She is an advocate to God, and was chosen above all others, but she is not God herself. Because of this special designation, she was born without Original Sin, and gave birth to Jesus. Every year, Catholics honor her in May and in October by doing special services and praying things like the rosary.
"Ave Regina" is more a play on words, done carefully of course. As I've mentioned before, when I am truly romantically interested in someone, they take on a regal sort of stature with me; I will blindly follow, do, and say what I think they prefer (sometimes to a fault). I want to praise and constantly reaffirm my affection to them, and try to take care of them. Subtly, of course.
3-The End of Formative Years: I have always said that developmentally, I am about 2 years behind schedule that other people my age. I always seem to lag behind in that respect, and the company I keep, all younger than me for the most part, seems to suggest this as well. For the past 10 years or so, I have been fully in my formative years, transitioning to manhood. Others around me have married, have children, and are well on their way with their music careers, and I am just starting to seek out those things that symbolize the next phase. It is now a time when you discover what is important to you, your life's passions, and the time you become an adult. Or in my case, a man. When your parents don't seem so off-base anymore, and you don't incessantly fight with your sisters. And you actually have fun seeing them. You appreciate things that don't always taste sweet, like coffee and tea, and you enjoy the way it feels to relax, do nothing, and rest. Women become more than just pretty faces, and who they are, what they stand for, and how they live are equally as important. You learn life skills and a certain quorum for how to treat people.
So "Ave Regina" deals with me bidding farewell to my formative years. To laying it rest, and remembering it for what it was. But it is no more.
*********************
The Back Story
I had contemplated moving home to settle down, to move home to be with someone, and that is the real back story behind the song. I was captivated not only by her, but by what it could be like to not sleep alone anymore. I would most likely have to severely reduce my music aspirations, and part of me was okay with that. I would return to the land I left, and do so triumphantly, and spend the rest of my days living there. I could go home and it would be perfect.
Right? Upon dwelling on it, I know now that I could never move home. I cannot divide my feelings up as neatly as another person, and my work with music is who I am. It is a defining characteristic, in the way a beating heart or lungs are, and it cannot be separated. To give up on my music, in any way, would be giving up on myself, something I am incapable of doing. Moreover, I would find a way to destruct the great thing I might have with her, so I could blame it for me quitting on my music. It would be awful.
So the pipe dreams of moving home to Western New York for the conventional life are over. It will not happen. My hope is someday I can return home to live, but life has not dictated that to me yet.
Here are the lyrics to "Ave Regina":
My thoughts are so heavy
My intentions so pure
That I can't even stand
When she enters the door
It's like the Queen is in session
And all I can do
Is sing 'Ave Regina,
Ave to you.'
She can give life so freely
To be honest and brave
That they'll be counting for decades
All the lives that she saved
I will forego the distance
And the walls in between
My sights are now setting
On courting the Queen
So I die for the very first time
Sing dirges and requiem masses
For an age, a place, a time, and a boy
Who watches his pipe dreams pass away.
I had dreams I would move here
And take it by storm
And return all victorious to the land I was born
And when I'm dearly departed
From the land that I started
The Queen and her subjects would mourn
But I die for the very first time
Sing dirges and requiem masses
For an age, a place, a time, and a boy
Who watches his pipe dreams pass away.
So I will stand here and wait
For the one who is always late
I gave up so soon
Just to stay in this room
Singing 'Ave Regina,
Ave to you.'
I gave up so soon
Just to stay in this room
Singing 'Ave Regina,
Ave to you.'
So farewell to childhood and adolescence. Here is my dirge for those great 10+years. When I wrote this, I knew it was the last piece needed for the upcoming album. It's going to be the last song.
Thank you for reading! PLEASE visit www.johnschmittalbum.com and consider giving to make the album possible. Everyday, people's generosity amazes me! Please email me at johnschmittmusic@gmail.com if you have any questions!
-John
www.myspace.com/johnschmitt
March 2, 2010
March 1, 2010
Monday
if I met me today
I'd say I were a bitter man
not holding doors, pushing through
pushing through to my station stop
everything is amplified
as the wind blows in my face
lengthening the walk home.
I'd say I were a bitter man
not holding doors, pushing through
pushing through to my station stop
everything is amplified
as the wind blows in my face
lengthening the walk home.
Buffalo, NY
My home is real.
Where I was born so much sums up human experience
Trials, triumphs, banding-together, closeness.
I arrived home and got socked with terrible news
More shocking than anything
And at the same time
I receive loving support for two days straight
From those around me I never really knew that well.
I come to find out
That the terrible news, while necessary,
Will get sorted out
Because it comes from love.
(Everyone is alive, kicking, and breathing. not to worry)
My home is real.
Nothing in this world is as bright or as concrete or as perfect
As we think it will be
And my home is never really great
Never really bad
It's just good. Very good.
I want to hug my parents both
Separately, equally
And my sisters
Their love is so strong, so moving
And so careful.
My mother compels me to live well
By her actions.
My father sees something in me
That I don't think he saw before
And I have the man's respect.
He told me he thinks I work harder than he does
He never, ever, for an instant minces words.
My sister, despite her rush to anger or judge
Has the sharpest intellect, and a huge heart
And is married to her Great Leveler,
Someone I see who gives balance to her life.
Even my dogs are real.
They still jump, bark too much, and smell when they get wet.
But they take part in the household just like me
They share the leaps, the fun, the ball-throwings
That I used to do when I was so young
My bed upstairs is real.
I slept in the TV room upstairs
And I never sleep as well as I do on that bed
To another person, my bed in Brooklyn
Would seem light years more comfortable
The Buffalo Bed is literally stiff and creeky,
And you can feel the pockets of springs
But the blankets are always so soft
The pillows the perfects fluff-t0-stiffness ratio
And they always smell like "good".
I sleep like a stone, very deeply
Despite the cold
My life is real.
I enter March with a large plate in front of me
The High Holy Day on the 17th
And all the Stories to tell
My next album, which must be my life's greatest work,
Now almost a week away from beginning.
I am twinged with guilt, heartache, and sobering sadness
Over the way others have treated me
And the way I see me going round-and-round again
And my life is so real
That in all that
Transcending that
No, fueling that
Is the love from those around me
Mom
Dad
Elicia
Joe
Lynn
Aunt Lisa
Uncle Chris
Aunt Linda
et cetera
Who make a point to affirm their steadfast support
"I'm so proud of you, John Michael."
Yet my work has just begun
I find myself crying these past few weeks
And not because I am upset or sad
In the least.
The love from my family moves me to tears
And I am learning to shake the initial guilt
That I throw on
And embrace it
So the tears are an outward physical sign
Of my soul going through the mind
and into the body
And showing myself and my world
(My world is real)
That I am loved.
So throw your arms around your family for me
And for your own good
Find that real home
And real life
And let people move you.
Where I was born so much sums up human experience
Trials, triumphs, banding-together, closeness.
I arrived home and got socked with terrible news
More shocking than anything
And at the same time
I receive loving support for two days straight
From those around me I never really knew that well.
I come to find out
That the terrible news, while necessary,
Will get sorted out
Because it comes from love.
(Everyone is alive, kicking, and breathing. not to worry)
My home is real.
Nothing in this world is as bright or as concrete or as perfect
As we think it will be
And my home is never really great
Never really bad
It's just good. Very good.
I want to hug my parents both
Separately, equally
And my sisters
Their love is so strong, so moving
And so careful.
My mother compels me to live well
By her actions.
My father sees something in me
That I don't think he saw before
And I have the man's respect.
He told me he thinks I work harder than he does
He never, ever, for an instant minces words.
My sister, despite her rush to anger or judge
Has the sharpest intellect, and a huge heart
And is married to her Great Leveler,
Someone I see who gives balance to her life.
Even my dogs are real.
They still jump, bark too much, and smell when they get wet.
But they take part in the household just like me
They share the leaps, the fun, the ball-throwings
That I used to do when I was so young
My bed upstairs is real.
I slept in the TV room upstairs
And I never sleep as well as I do on that bed
To another person, my bed in Brooklyn
Would seem light years more comfortable
The Buffalo Bed is literally stiff and creeky,
And you can feel the pockets of springs
But the blankets are always so soft
The pillows the perfects fluff-t0-stiffness ratio
And they always smell like "good".
I sleep like a stone, very deeply
Despite the cold
My life is real.
I enter March with a large plate in front of me
The High Holy Day on the 17th
And all the Stories to tell
My next album, which must be my life's greatest work,
Now almost a week away from beginning.
I am twinged with guilt, heartache, and sobering sadness
Over the way others have treated me
And the way I see me going round-and-round again
And my life is so real
That in all that
Transcending that
No, fueling that
Is the love from those around me
Mom
Dad
Elicia
Joe
Lynn
Aunt Lisa
Uncle Chris
Aunt Linda
et cetera
Who make a point to affirm their steadfast support
"I'm so proud of you, John Michael."
Yet my work has just begun
I find myself crying these past few weeks
And not because I am upset or sad
In the least.
The love from my family moves me to tears
And I am learning to shake the initial guilt
That I throw on
And embrace it
So the tears are an outward physical sign
Of my soul going through the mind
and into the body
And showing myself and my world
(My world is real)
That I am loved.
So throw your arms around your family for me
And for your own good
Find that real home
And real life
And let people move you.
words and music by John Mayer
Wherever I go,
Whatever I do,
I wonder where I am in my relationship to you.
Wherever you go,
Wherever you are,
I watch your life play out in pictures from afar.
Wherever I go,
Whatever I do,
I wonder where I am in my relationship to you.
Wherever you go,
Wherever you are,
I watch that pretty life play out in pictures from afar.
February 25, 2010
MY ALBUM PREVIEW, SONG 7: "Two Souls Meet in the City"
Welcome to my blog! This is the latest in a series of "Album Preview" posts I'm doing to raise awareness (and hopefully excitement) for my upcoming album. I need your help! Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com to donate to help make the album happen. Thank you, and enjoy the post!
"Two Souls Meet in the City"
My time in New York has shown me that at the core of this city is a real and true heart. And to see it in action seems to be more rare as days go by. Even more rare is meeting someone who "gets it."
["Gets It" - a phrase referring to a person who is chasing a very lofty life's dream; appreciates fine art, music, and food, but also simple pleasures like a campfire; recognizes the actual important parts of life, especially laughter; remains calm under most kinds of duress; exceedingly passionate.]
When someone makes an effort to self-disclose on the same level as you, it becomes this beautiful moment where two people begin to share things deeper than language and action. When two people intentionally become vulnerable to one another, there is a special bond that forms. In the same way a dog exposes his underside to his master, so do we people show our shortcomings and scars to another person once a great deal of trust is gained. Electricity flows in those moments, and we get hazy and foggy in the head, in a very good way. It seems all time, space, physics, chemistry, and cultural laws pause, that suddenly breathing and a heartbeat are non-factors, and you exist beyond being just a body or a mind.
You see, I was a chubby, naive, wanna-be musician from upstate New York, with no real street smarts, trying to meet some girl who I could write music about, and hoping badly to fall in love. In many ways, I still am all those things. As much as I loved to think I was living the ultimate New York experience, I lived an hour from my job in the city, and traveled most weekends away from it.
She was a successful businesswoman and designer, considering her age, who moved here from Florida to live life. She always sought adventure, new places, and knew how to cook well, to cook healthy, and knew a great deal about wine. She appreciated great movies, and stupid silly ones. She adored music, and words and melody moved her in the way they moved me. She had a way of looking at you as if you were not just your outward appearance. She knew what the "form" version of me was, too.
["form" version, referring to Plato's idea of forms. Meaning, there are archetypes of everything, and everyone, from which we compare what our senses see. Example, how do you know that a chair is a chair, even if you have not seen it before? Plato argues because there is an archetype chair, a more real chair, than the one we see. We are born with the knowledge of the archetypes. There are TONS more to it, but that's the really skinny version.]
She knew that my outward appearance was a shorter version of me, a bigger version of my real self, and she came to appreciate that person I was inside this body.
And so, when we met, it was magic. It was fulfilling and satisfying and enchanting all at once. She was willing to share of herself with me, too, and I was intimidated by meeting a woman that could literally run circles around me with her mind. When we would see each other, it was a suspension of all time and space.
Have you ever seen the movie, "Big Fish"? The one directed by Tim Burton, starring Ewan Mcgregor and Billy Crudup. In particular, the circus scene, where he first sees his future wife. You can see the clip here:
That's what I mean. It was like that. This is very similar to what happens in my song "Two Souls Meet in the City."
I finally had felt I met someone on this island of Manhattan that was as real and understanding of what is important in life as me. That everyone else, it seemed, was empty, cavernous spaces inside their bodies, and when the two of us crossed paths, it was an occasion for the entire metropolis to behold. It was a two or three hour city-wide holiday, where all businesses would allow employees the time to come see a viewing of she and I, together, somewhere in the West Village, and gaze at the two real people walking around these city blocks. Even the cab drivers would stop and watch. Being with her was a spectacle. Or so it felt.
I began writing the chorus to the song based on an email I sent her when I was away, and once I wrote it I was literally singing it and dancing around my apartment. I had recently really gotten into some John Legend, especially his second disc, which is very jazzy and soulful. I also saw his live band on TV, and his backup singers absolutely slay it. So this song is meant to be big, beautiful, and so groovy, all at once.
So "Two Souls Meet in the City" is about the absolutely astounding power of meeting an intellectual and spiritual equal. It's about rejecting the frivolous nature of New York City, and about love as a spectacle.
Here are the lyrics to "Two Souls Meet in the City"
When two souls meet in the city
Half of the world forgets we're all still spinning 'round
When two souls meet in the city
All of the traffic lights turn red all over town
And when you stand right here
And you make it clear
That you don't care if all the people wanna stare
Oh, when two souls meet in the city
You better be there.
Enter the girl
She always wants to see what's good
Always wants to step out in her neighborhood
Enter the boy
He's got his life wrapped up in song
Got his life wrapped up in what's gone wrong
And so they meet
Down on 42nd street
By the center of the world, they all convene
Oh, and they stare
And stare, and stare, and stare
When two souls meet in the city
Half of the world forgets we're all still spinning 'round
When two souls meet in the city
All of the traffic lights turn red all over town
And when you stand right here
And you make it clear
That you don't care if all the people wanna stare
Oh, when two souls meet in the city
You better be there.
Girl says to boy
'I wanna go downtown,
Want to see the Village lights go round and round and round'
Boy says to girl
'I'm just a short version of my brain
But all these things I think keep coming out the same'
So why don't we meet
Down on 42nd street
By the center of the world, they all convene
Oh, and they'll stare
And stare, and stare, and stare
You've got your saga now, and I've got mine
But we could share, if we give it time
You've got your saga now, and I've got mine
But we could share, if we give it time
Oh, when two souls meet in the city
Half of the world forgets we're all still spinning 'round
When two souls meet, when they greet in the city
All of the traffic lights turn red,
All the cabbies turn their head
And you better be there
You better be there
You better be there
You better be there.
The Heart of the city meets with two people who "get it." And it's wonderful.
Thanks for reading! Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com today and reserve your copy of the upcoming album!
-John
www.myspace.com/johnschmitt
"Two Souls Meet in the City"
My time in New York has shown me that at the core of this city is a real and true heart. And to see it in action seems to be more rare as days go by. Even more rare is meeting someone who "gets it."
["Gets It" - a phrase referring to a person who is chasing a very lofty life's dream; appreciates fine art, music, and food, but also simple pleasures like a campfire; recognizes the actual important parts of life, especially laughter; remains calm under most kinds of duress; exceedingly passionate.]
When someone makes an effort to self-disclose on the same level as you, it becomes this beautiful moment where two people begin to share things deeper than language and action. When two people intentionally become vulnerable to one another, there is a special bond that forms. In the same way a dog exposes his underside to his master, so do we people show our shortcomings and scars to another person once a great deal of trust is gained. Electricity flows in those moments, and we get hazy and foggy in the head, in a very good way. It seems all time, space, physics, chemistry, and cultural laws pause, that suddenly breathing and a heartbeat are non-factors, and you exist beyond being just a body or a mind.
You see, I was a chubby, naive, wanna-be musician from upstate New York, with no real street smarts, trying to meet some girl who I could write music about, and hoping badly to fall in love. In many ways, I still am all those things. As much as I loved to think I was living the ultimate New York experience, I lived an hour from my job in the city, and traveled most weekends away from it.
She was a successful businesswoman and designer, considering her age, who moved here from Florida to live life. She always sought adventure, new places, and knew how to cook well, to cook healthy, and knew a great deal about wine. She appreciated great movies, and stupid silly ones. She adored music, and words and melody moved her in the way they moved me. She had a way of looking at you as if you were not just your outward appearance. She knew what the "form" version of me was, too.
["form" version, referring to Plato's idea of forms. Meaning, there are archetypes of everything, and everyone, from which we compare what our senses see. Example, how do you know that a chair is a chair, even if you have not seen it before? Plato argues because there is an archetype chair, a more real chair, than the one we see. We are born with the knowledge of the archetypes. There are TONS more to it, but that's the really skinny version.]
She knew that my outward appearance was a shorter version of me, a bigger version of my real self, and she came to appreciate that person I was inside this body.
And so, when we met, it was magic. It was fulfilling and satisfying and enchanting all at once. She was willing to share of herself with me, too, and I was intimidated by meeting a woman that could literally run circles around me with her mind. When we would see each other, it was a suspension of all time and space.
Have you ever seen the movie, "Big Fish"? The one directed by Tim Burton, starring Ewan Mcgregor and Billy Crudup. In particular, the circus scene, where he first sees his future wife. You can see the clip here:
That's what I mean. It was like that. This is very similar to what happens in my song "Two Souls Meet in the City."
I finally had felt I met someone on this island of Manhattan that was as real and understanding of what is important in life as me. That everyone else, it seemed, was empty, cavernous spaces inside their bodies, and when the two of us crossed paths, it was an occasion for the entire metropolis to behold. It was a two or three hour city-wide holiday, where all businesses would allow employees the time to come see a viewing of she and I, together, somewhere in the West Village, and gaze at the two real people walking around these city blocks. Even the cab drivers would stop and watch. Being with her was a spectacle. Or so it felt.
I began writing the chorus to the song based on an email I sent her when I was away, and once I wrote it I was literally singing it and dancing around my apartment. I had recently really gotten into some John Legend, especially his second disc, which is very jazzy and soulful. I also saw his live band on TV, and his backup singers absolutely slay it. So this song is meant to be big, beautiful, and so groovy, all at once.
So "Two Souls Meet in the City" is about the absolutely astounding power of meeting an intellectual and spiritual equal. It's about rejecting the frivolous nature of New York City, and about love as a spectacle.
Here are the lyrics to "Two Souls Meet in the City"
When two souls meet in the city
Half of the world forgets we're all still spinning 'round
When two souls meet in the city
All of the traffic lights turn red all over town
And when you stand right here
And you make it clear
That you don't care if all the people wanna stare
Oh, when two souls meet in the city
You better be there.
Enter the girl
She always wants to see what's good
Always wants to step out in her neighborhood
Enter the boy
He's got his life wrapped up in song
Got his life wrapped up in what's gone wrong
And so they meet
Down on 42nd street
By the center of the world, they all convene
Oh, and they stare
And stare, and stare, and stare
When two souls meet in the city
Half of the world forgets we're all still spinning 'round
When two souls meet in the city
All of the traffic lights turn red all over town
And when you stand right here
And you make it clear
That you don't care if all the people wanna stare
Oh, when two souls meet in the city
You better be there.
Girl says to boy
'I wanna go downtown,
Want to see the Village lights go round and round and round'
Boy says to girl
'I'm just a short version of my brain
But all these things I think keep coming out the same'
So why don't we meet
Down on 42nd street
By the center of the world, they all convene
Oh, and they'll stare
And stare, and stare, and stare
You've got your saga now, and I've got mine
But we could share, if we give it time
You've got your saga now, and I've got mine
But we could share, if we give it time
Oh, when two souls meet in the city
Half of the world forgets we're all still spinning 'round
When two souls meet, when they greet in the city
All of the traffic lights turn red,
All the cabbies turn their head
And you better be there
You better be there
You better be there
You better be there.
The Heart of the city meets with two people who "get it." And it's wonderful.
Thanks for reading! Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com today and reserve your copy of the upcoming album!
-John
www.myspace.com/johnschmitt
February 24, 2010
MY ALBUM PREVIEW, SONG 6: "So We Sing"
Thank you, and welcome to my blog! This is the latest in a series of "Album Preview" posts I'm doing to raise awareness (and hopefully excitement) for my upcoming album. I need your help! Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com to donate to help make the album happen. Thank you again, and enjoy the post!
"So We Sing"
Writing for a particular purpose, topic, or for a job, is something I had never done before. It always seemed to be the least "noble" of things songwriters could do. Meaning, it is a completely respectful enterprise, but it does not capture what I believe is the purest form of songwriting: music that is almost entirely autobiographical, rooted in realism, that avoids cliches, and focuses on imagery and melody. All other pursuits around songwriting, while viable, often lucrative, and still very legit and respectable, did not interest me. I wanted to tell my story, in a way that others relate.
On New Years Eve 2008 I played a show at Bar 4 in Park Slope Brooklyn, home to one of the city's best open mics. Bar 4 is pretty small, with vintage furniture and little nooks sort of crammed in, but the bar is focused on the music, with the stage being the main attraction. I love playing there, and always have courteous, listening crowds.
That night, I met Lisa, a film director, and a colleague of hers. They mentioned enjoying my show, and wondered if I ever composed for film before. They were working on something Lisa wrote and directed, a short film, called "The Friendly Visit." Lisa asked for my email, and said she would be in touch.
About a week later I got a call from her, and we met a series of times to discuss music for "The Friendly Visit." I learned the movie is about a woman who recently had a miscarriage and then divorced, who joins an organization that visits with shut ins and the elderly. Upon visiting a woman one day, she meets a young girl who changes her life forever. Lisa wanted me to record some guitar music, just instrumental, for two areas in the film. The first is when the main character is sorting through the memories of her marriage and her miscarriage. The second is for the end, which is very happy and jovial.
We decided to meet once more, and I would finally see the film. It had not been finished yet, so I had explicit instructions to not show it to anyone, or discuss it with anyone.
I watched the film, which was about 20 minutes long, and what struck me was how the main character was constantly searching. She had this longing to be a part of someone or some community, yet most of her time seemed spent living in the previous ones she had been a part of. And then, it seemed, at the moment she stopped looking, she found what she wanted. Moreover, she didn't even know she wanted it, but she found it. A child.
I was now supposed to construct instrumental music for the film, based on seeing it. But suddenly, my sights become a bit more lofty: I would write a brand new song, to be played at the end of the film, to point to the joyous occasion of the main character. In fact, I started writing it as I waited for a taxi to pick me up from her apartment and take me home.
I came home, and started to write what came out to be the song "So We Sing." It's short, sweet, cheerful, and there's not much to it. But it speaks to the feeling of being redeemed - through another person, through yourself, and getting the chance to move forward.
I recorded what I wrote, and sent it to Lisa, who was thrilled at hearing the song. It fit perfectly at the end of the movie. My mother thought it was my best work to date, and my musician friends always love performing it with me when we do shows together.
Here's the lyrics to "So We Sing":
I wasn't looking for you, but I found you
Wasn't looking for you, but you found me
I've been searching for gold, since I was 12 years old
Wasn't looking for you, but you found me
And so we Sing, ahhh
And we say, do do do do
So we sing, ahhh
Oh oh oh oh
I gave up looking for you, when you found me
Gave up looking for you, 'cause you found me
You're lost on this road, come in out of the cold
I gave up looking for you, when you found me
And so we Sing, ahhh
And we say, do do do do
So we sing, ahhh
Oh oh oh oh
What you look for, what you look for
Oh, sometimes you can't hold
What you look for, what you look for
Isn't bought, and isn't sold
What you look for, what you look for
If you try again
What you look for what you look for
Come's back to you, my friend
And so we Sing, ahhh
And we say, do do do do
So we sing, ahhh
Oh oh oh oh
What you look for, what you look for
Oh, sometimes you can't hold
What you look for, what you look for
Isn't bought, and isn't sold
What you look for, what you look for
If you try again
What you look for what you look for
Come's back to you, my friend
The music is bouncy, with two-step bass line and tons and tons of harmony. Like 6 parts. One of the most fun songs I've ever written! I can't wait to lay it down soon.
So there's my first attempt at writing a song not rooted in my own life experiences. I did have a movie to use as a reference though, which helped! And I found it to be TOTALLY just as legit as when I wrote about myself, but a bit different. Like cooking for a dinner party as opposed to just yourself. It's a different kind of care.
Thank you for reading! I am getting great feedback about my album preview posts on here. If you like what you read, please consider visiting my site, www.johnschmittalbum.com, and consider donating towards making my record. It's the same as buying it when it's out, only your donation makes it actually possible! Thank you very much.
-John
"So We Sing"
Writing for a particular purpose, topic, or for a job, is something I had never done before. It always seemed to be the least "noble" of things songwriters could do. Meaning, it is a completely respectful enterprise, but it does not capture what I believe is the purest form of songwriting: music that is almost entirely autobiographical, rooted in realism, that avoids cliches, and focuses on imagery and melody. All other pursuits around songwriting, while viable, often lucrative, and still very legit and respectable, did not interest me. I wanted to tell my story, in a way that others relate.
On New Years Eve 2008 I played a show at Bar 4 in Park Slope Brooklyn, home to one of the city's best open mics. Bar 4 is pretty small, with vintage furniture and little nooks sort of crammed in, but the bar is focused on the music, with the stage being the main attraction. I love playing there, and always have courteous, listening crowds.
That night, I met Lisa, a film director, and a colleague of hers. They mentioned enjoying my show, and wondered if I ever composed for film before. They were working on something Lisa wrote and directed, a short film, called "The Friendly Visit." Lisa asked for my email, and said she would be in touch.
About a week later I got a call from her, and we met a series of times to discuss music for "The Friendly Visit." I learned the movie is about a woman who recently had a miscarriage and then divorced, who joins an organization that visits with shut ins and the elderly. Upon visiting a woman one day, she meets a young girl who changes her life forever. Lisa wanted me to record some guitar music, just instrumental, for two areas in the film. The first is when the main character is sorting through the memories of her marriage and her miscarriage. The second is for the end, which is very happy and jovial.
We decided to meet once more, and I would finally see the film. It had not been finished yet, so I had explicit instructions to not show it to anyone, or discuss it with anyone.
I watched the film, which was about 20 minutes long, and what struck me was how the main character was constantly searching. She had this longing to be a part of someone or some community, yet most of her time seemed spent living in the previous ones she had been a part of. And then, it seemed, at the moment she stopped looking, she found what she wanted. Moreover, she didn't even know she wanted it, but she found it. A child.
I was now supposed to construct instrumental music for the film, based on seeing it. But suddenly, my sights become a bit more lofty: I would write a brand new song, to be played at the end of the film, to point to the joyous occasion of the main character. In fact, I started writing it as I waited for a taxi to pick me up from her apartment and take me home.
I came home, and started to write what came out to be the song "So We Sing." It's short, sweet, cheerful, and there's not much to it. But it speaks to the feeling of being redeemed - through another person, through yourself, and getting the chance to move forward.
I recorded what I wrote, and sent it to Lisa, who was thrilled at hearing the song. It fit perfectly at the end of the movie. My mother thought it was my best work to date, and my musician friends always love performing it with me when we do shows together.
Here's the lyrics to "So We Sing":
I wasn't looking for you, but I found you
Wasn't looking for you, but you found me
I've been searching for gold, since I was 12 years old
Wasn't looking for you, but you found me
And so we Sing, ahhh
And we say, do do do do
So we sing, ahhh
Oh oh oh oh
I gave up looking for you, when you found me
Gave up looking for you, 'cause you found me
You're lost on this road, come in out of the cold
I gave up looking for you, when you found me
And so we Sing, ahhh
And we say, do do do do
So we sing, ahhh
Oh oh oh oh
What you look for, what you look for
Oh, sometimes you can't hold
What you look for, what you look for
Isn't bought, and isn't sold
What you look for, what you look for
If you try again
What you look for what you look for
Come's back to you, my friend
And so we Sing, ahhh
And we say, do do do do
So we sing, ahhh
Oh oh oh oh
What you look for, what you look for
Oh, sometimes you can't hold
What you look for, what you look for
Isn't bought, and isn't sold
What you look for, what you look for
If you try again
What you look for what you look for
Come's back to you, my friend
The music is bouncy, with two-step bass line and tons and tons of harmony. Like 6 parts. One of the most fun songs I've ever written! I can't wait to lay it down soon.
So there's my first attempt at writing a song not rooted in my own life experiences. I did have a movie to use as a reference though, which helped! And I found it to be TOTALLY just as legit as when I wrote about myself, but a bit different. Like cooking for a dinner party as opposed to just yourself. It's a different kind of care.
Thank you for reading! I am getting great feedback about my album preview posts on here. If you like what you read, please consider visiting my site, www.johnschmittalbum.com, and consider donating towards making my record. It's the same as buying it when it's out, only your donation makes it actually possible! Thank you very much.
-John
February 23, 2010
"Finishing the Hat"
The song "Finishing the Hat" talks about George Seurat, a 19th century French Painter, and how he cannot escape his work to be with the woman he loves. It talks about the plight of an artist bound to their work, and how he cannot seem to put anything before his art, no person or place. And no one really seems to be able to understand that. If they could, they might be more forgiving when he seems to disregard or neglect those around him. Or why he must always stay to finish his work; finish painting the hat on the canvas. To create. And often times, the things and people the artists truly wants are no longer available to him when he is finally able to commit to them.
We artists toil and toil over our work. We struggle with the hopes of being remembered. We panic that we are wasting our lives. And we seem to never grasp the other joys in life the way someone else might. We bear this Creation Cross, the charge of making things, that others do not. We are asked on High to write Freedom, and to write truth about our experience. It is often a tough pill to swallow.
Making music is a beautiful life. I am completely blessed. But I also wrestle with the temptation of a more conventional life, with a career in medicine or education, and with being an art appreciator more than an art creator. Both are noble, I believe, but I cannot comprehend ever living that way.
For some reason, this song grabbed me today, as it has done dozens and dozens of times. Here's to Seurat, and his beautiful painting, "Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte."
"Finishing the Hat"
by Stephen Sondheim
Yes, she looks for me - good.
Let her look for me to tell me why she left me-
As I always knew she would.
I had thought she understood.
They have never understood,
And no reason that they should.
But if anybody could...
Finishing the hat,
How you have to finish the hat.
How you watch the rest of the world
From a window
While you finish the hat.
Mapping out a sky.
What you feel like, planning a sky.
What you feel when voices that come
Through the window go
Until they distance and die,
Until there's nothing but sky
And how you're always turning back too late
From the grass or the stick
Or the dog or the light,
How the kind of woman willing to wait's
Not the kind that you want to find waiting
To return you to the night,
Dizzy from the height,
Coming from the hat.
Studying the hat,
Entering the world of the hat,
Reaching through the world of the hat
Like a window,
Back to this one from that.
Studying a face,
Stepping back to look at a face
Leaves a little space in the way like a window,
But to see-
It's the only way to see.
And when the Woman that You Wanted goes,
You can say to yourself, "Well, I give what I give."
But the Woman Who Won't Wait for You knows
That, however you live,
There's a part of you always standing by,
Mapping out the sky,
Finishing a hat...
Starting on a hat..
Finishing a hat...
Look, I made a hat...
Where there never was a hat
We artists toil and toil over our work. We struggle with the hopes of being remembered. We panic that we are wasting our lives. And we seem to never grasp the other joys in life the way someone else might. We bear this Creation Cross, the charge of making things, that others do not. We are asked on High to write Freedom, and to write truth about our experience. It is often a tough pill to swallow.
Making music is a beautiful life. I am completely blessed. But I also wrestle with the temptation of a more conventional life, with a career in medicine or education, and with being an art appreciator more than an art creator. Both are noble, I believe, but I cannot comprehend ever living that way.
For some reason, this song grabbed me today, as it has done dozens and dozens of times. Here's to Seurat, and his beautiful painting, "Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte."
"Finishing the Hat"
by Stephen Sondheim
Yes, she looks for me - good.
Let her look for me to tell me why she left me-
As I always knew she would.
I had thought she understood.
They have never understood,
And no reason that they should.
But if anybody could...
Finishing the hat,
How you have to finish the hat.
How you watch the rest of the world
From a window
While you finish the hat.
Mapping out a sky.
What you feel like, planning a sky.
What you feel when voices that come
Through the window go
Until they distance and die,
Until there's nothing but sky
And how you're always turning back too late
From the grass or the stick
Or the dog or the light,
How the kind of woman willing to wait's
Not the kind that you want to find waiting
To return you to the night,
Dizzy from the height,
Coming from the hat.
Studying the hat,
Entering the world of the hat,
Reaching through the world of the hat
Like a window,
Back to this one from that.
Studying a face,
Stepping back to look at a face
Leaves a little space in the way like a window,
But to see-
It's the only way to see.
And when the Woman that You Wanted goes,
You can say to yourself, "Well, I give what I give."
But the Woman Who Won't Wait for You knows
That, however you live,
There's a part of you always standing by,
Mapping out the sky,
Finishing a hat...
Starting on a hat..
Finishing a hat...
Look, I made a hat...
Where there never was a hat
February 22, 2010
MY ALBUM PREVIEW, SONG 5: "Lament"
My song "Lament" is brand new, and in fact, I've only played it once live. I have had it written for about a year now, but it is not meant to be played solo acoustic, or with a band.
The music is heavily influenced by Rufus Wainwright, in particular his song "Agnus Dei." Angus Dei is Latin for "Lamb of God," and the song itself is so incredibly moving and magnificent. It employs an entire orchestra while Rufus sings over top of them:
"Agnus Dei
Qui tollis peccata mundi
Agnus dei
Agnus dei
Qui tollis peccata mundi
Dona nobis pacem
Dona nobis pacem
Pacem
Dona nobis pacem"
Which literally means:
"Lamb of God
Who takes away the sins of the world
Lamb of God
Lamb of God
Who takes away the sins of the world
Grant us peace
Grant us peace
Peace
Grant us peace"
These words are very straightforward to anyone raised Catholic or Christian. They are repeated several times over, with the music being the vehicle by which the meaning is conveyed. Classical music powerfully does this, and while I am certainly not an avid lover of classical music, I have been moved by Classical music and the non-verbal way it conveys emotion.
So, with my song, "Lament," I wanted to write a song where the music shaped and guided the feelings of the listener, as opposed to primarily the lyrics. In most my writing, the words are the most focused part of the song for me, and I felt I should step out of that.
Now, the words. I remember sitting in the backseat of Christina LaRocca's car, a dear friend of mine and great singer, and we had finished playing a show together in the Village. She offered to drive another friend home out to Canarsie in Brooklyn, and I was along for the trip. We were listening to the radio when Ingrid Michaelson's song "The Way I Am" came on. Being that everyone in the car knew Ingrid personally, and she was starting to completely explode onto the national music scene, we all were like "Hey!!!" when it came on.
Ingrid's music is always, always so intensely bittersweet. I think she is brilliant, and her business savvy is equally as brilliant. She helped to change and shape the music landscape. And, she put her entire soul into her record "Boys and Girls," and stayed true to the group of musicians that played with her from the start. Couldn't have happened to a nicer, more gracious woman.
However, I used to be very close to a member of her band, and we had an incredibly unfortunate, difficult, painful, and gut-wrenching falling out. I know now it was for the best that we part ways, but that certainly did not make it easy.
Anyways, the point is, hearing her song on the radio made me think of that friendship, and how sour it now was. And I how I honest-to-goodness did not miss it. My mourning of that relationship and bond was over. There were no more panic attacks, silent passes in the hallway, no more shit-talking to those close to me, and no more caring. I let go of the hold it had on me. I did not lament it anymore.
I started to sing the very first line of the song in the car then, and heard an orchestra in my head, but I did not really know how to quantify what I was hearing. I did not have anything to write with, and would just file the idea away with a bunch of other ideas I have.
When I came back to it a few days later, the phrase "I do not lament you anymore" seemed to jump off the page. What a strong yet vulnerable statement. I am telling you that I don't mourn you anymore. Isn't that still a sign of weakness? Are we ever really "over" someone, regardless of if it had romantic implications?
I was reminded of a prayer I used to recite when on retreat in college. I believe it was written by Thomas Merton, a Franciscan priest who had studied eastern religious meditation and spirituality, and was a pioneer of introducing such practices in Catholicism and Christianity. Particularly, he studied at St. Bonaventure University, where I was attending the retreat, in Olean, NY. The prayer is recited, line by line, and after each line you meditate on that particular phrase. It starts with one complete sentence, and each consecutive time it is recited, a word is knocked off, until you are read one word, "be." A command! To just exist. By then, you could attain a beautiful calm and center faster than any stimulus (like fresh tea) could provide. Here's the prayer:
"Be still and know that I am God.
Be still and know that I am.
Be still and know.
Be still.
Be."
The meanings of all those lines, when juxtaposed together, shed light on the meditative state: the first line charges you to employ physical restraint (to "be still"), mental retraint ( to "know"), and to calm anxiety (to "know that I am God"), and then broadens the scope. Through the first three lines, you wipe away the distractions of human life, until you finally are charged in the last line to simple "be." To me, the last line was always the toughest to accomplish. Existing without any other intrusion is so challenging, yet seems so easy. It is not a lazy or slouching state. It is a state of open-mindedness, of clear and empty thought. It is the state of the sponge about to be dipped into water.
So, that prayer has always stuck with me, and while I have not meditated on that for some time, I thought using the same literary device as that prayer with my one line, "I do not lament you anymore," could show the proud, yet vulnerable place someone is in when thinking things like that. Moreover, I constructed music that is parts bright, parts very dark, and parts very sad or longing, and it conveys more clearly the messages that each other lines hints at.
Here are the lyrics to "Lament":
I do not lament you anymore.
I do not lament you
I do not lament
I do not
I do
I do
I do not take chances with you.
I do not take chances
I do not take
I do not
I do
I do
So there is the song, very short, very to the point. A slightly bitter, yet more mature person is saying those words, and doing so from experience. The music will be entirely composed of strings - at least, that's the plan so far. Caleb and I are still working on this one. I am unsure how it will be received, but it's very out-of-the-ordinary for me. I wonder how it will live with the other songs on the album, but I feel it is important to share, as it hits at a specific, crucial moment of my life.
Thanks for reading! Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com should you wish to contribute towards making my CD! Any donation is so greatly appreciated, and you are forever a part of the record!
-John
www.myspace.com/johnschmitt
The music is heavily influenced by Rufus Wainwright, in particular his song "Agnus Dei." Angus Dei is Latin for "Lamb of God," and the song itself is so incredibly moving and magnificent. It employs an entire orchestra while Rufus sings over top of them:
"Agnus Dei
Qui tollis peccata mundi
Agnus dei
Agnus dei
Qui tollis peccata mundi
Dona nobis pacem
Dona nobis pacem
Pacem
Dona nobis pacem"
Which literally means:
"Lamb of God
Who takes away the sins of the world
Lamb of God
Lamb of God
Who takes away the sins of the world
Grant us peace
Grant us peace
Peace
Grant us peace"
These words are very straightforward to anyone raised Catholic or Christian. They are repeated several times over, with the music being the vehicle by which the meaning is conveyed. Classical music powerfully does this, and while I am certainly not an avid lover of classical music, I have been moved by Classical music and the non-verbal way it conveys emotion.
So, with my song, "Lament," I wanted to write a song where the music shaped and guided the feelings of the listener, as opposed to primarily the lyrics. In most my writing, the words are the most focused part of the song for me, and I felt I should step out of that.
Now, the words. I remember sitting in the backseat of Christina LaRocca's car, a dear friend of mine and great singer, and we had finished playing a show together in the Village. She offered to drive another friend home out to Canarsie in Brooklyn, and I was along for the trip. We were listening to the radio when Ingrid Michaelson's song "The Way I Am" came on. Being that everyone in the car knew Ingrid personally, and she was starting to completely explode onto the national music scene, we all were like "Hey!!!" when it came on.
Ingrid's music is always, always so intensely bittersweet. I think she is brilliant, and her business savvy is equally as brilliant. She helped to change and shape the music landscape. And, she put her entire soul into her record "Boys and Girls," and stayed true to the group of musicians that played with her from the start. Couldn't have happened to a nicer, more gracious woman.
However, I used to be very close to a member of her band, and we had an incredibly unfortunate, difficult, painful, and gut-wrenching falling out. I know now it was for the best that we part ways, but that certainly did not make it easy.
Anyways, the point is, hearing her song on the radio made me think of that friendship, and how sour it now was. And I how I honest-to-goodness did not miss it. My mourning of that relationship and bond was over. There were no more panic attacks, silent passes in the hallway, no more shit-talking to those close to me, and no more caring. I let go of the hold it had on me. I did not lament it anymore.
I started to sing the very first line of the song in the car then, and heard an orchestra in my head, but I did not really know how to quantify what I was hearing. I did not have anything to write with, and would just file the idea away with a bunch of other ideas I have.
When I came back to it a few days later, the phrase "I do not lament you anymore" seemed to jump off the page. What a strong yet vulnerable statement. I am telling you that I don't mourn you anymore. Isn't that still a sign of weakness? Are we ever really "over" someone, regardless of if it had romantic implications?
I was reminded of a prayer I used to recite when on retreat in college. I believe it was written by Thomas Merton, a Franciscan priest who had studied eastern religious meditation and spirituality, and was a pioneer of introducing such practices in Catholicism and Christianity. Particularly, he studied at St. Bonaventure University, where I was attending the retreat, in Olean, NY. The prayer is recited, line by line, and after each line you meditate on that particular phrase. It starts with one complete sentence, and each consecutive time it is recited, a word is knocked off, until you are read one word, "be." A command! To just exist. By then, you could attain a beautiful calm and center faster than any stimulus (like fresh tea) could provide. Here's the prayer:
"Be still and know that I am God.
Be still and know that I am.
Be still and know.
Be still.
Be."
The meanings of all those lines, when juxtaposed together, shed light on the meditative state: the first line charges you to employ physical restraint (to "be still"), mental retraint ( to "know"), and to calm anxiety (to "know that I am God"), and then broadens the scope. Through the first three lines, you wipe away the distractions of human life, until you finally are charged in the last line to simple "be." To me, the last line was always the toughest to accomplish. Existing without any other intrusion is so challenging, yet seems so easy. It is not a lazy or slouching state. It is a state of open-mindedness, of clear and empty thought. It is the state of the sponge about to be dipped into water.
So, that prayer has always stuck with me, and while I have not meditated on that for some time, I thought using the same literary device as that prayer with my one line, "I do not lament you anymore," could show the proud, yet vulnerable place someone is in when thinking things like that. Moreover, I constructed music that is parts bright, parts very dark, and parts very sad or longing, and it conveys more clearly the messages that each other lines hints at.
Here are the lyrics to "Lament":
I do not lament you anymore.
I do not lament you
I do not lament
I do not
I do
I do
I do not take chances with you.
I do not take chances
I do not take
I do not
I do
I do
So there is the song, very short, very to the point. A slightly bitter, yet more mature person is saying those words, and doing so from experience. The music will be entirely composed of strings - at least, that's the plan so far. Caleb and I are still working on this one. I am unsure how it will be received, but it's very out-of-the-ordinary for me. I wonder how it will live with the other songs on the album, but I feel it is important to share, as it hits at a specific, crucial moment of my life.
Thanks for reading! Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com should you wish to contribute towards making my CD! Any donation is so greatly appreciated, and you are forever a part of the record!
-John
www.myspace.com/johnschmitt
February 18, 2010
MY ALBUM PREVIEW, SONG 4: "Song of Myself"
Before I begin, let me just say that the actual recordings of these songs is not yet underway. We are scheduled to record beginning March 11th in Philadelphia. This is a "story behind the song" I'm blogging about to raise awareness, and hopefully excitement, about the record. Visit www.johnschmittalbum.com to donate if you want to be a part of it!
"Song of Myself"
I've been writing "Song of Myself" since I was a junior in college. That is 6 years ago. I just finished it about three months ago!
This song, in particular, has always seemed to linger when I would write. I've gone through about 4 different choruses, a myriad of verses, spent time trying to co-write the song with someone else, and taken it with me to different continents all in the hopes of living an experience worth writing about, and getting it done.
I was listening to O.A.R. thanks to my friend Mark introducing it to me in his car once while visiting him in PA. The chord structures were very simple and repetitive, and the melodies were catchy, albeit loaded with a bit of cheese. I began noodling on my guitar and found a riff using 6ths that descended, which sounded great.
I started to try and sing over it, but I found writing something was enormously difficult. Not because of the chords, which were basic, but what was I getting at? I can't write about nothing. At the time, I was in college, no girlfriend, no real drama or issues; it was calm.
Thinking about those around me, it was apparent how people truly fall to the wayside most of the time. Or, how they "duck out", like someone would at a party, leaving without saying anything. And how particular we as men and women want to change our perspective partners to fall in line with what we envision them to be - taller, darker, more handsome, smarter. You see this constantly. Some guy who enjoys watching hockey and drinking beer in his underwear meets some girl that rocks his world. Next time you see him, he's in a button up shirt, khaki pants, and sipping wine.
There's nothing wrong with that! But amazing how we much always pay a "finder's fee" to the opposite sex, that we must learn something new or change something in order to be worth of another person's affections.
Or in my case, a girl I had been in very deep "like" with told me I was crazy for wanting to be a songwriter and musician. "You mean, like a Jason Mraz, musician?" "Yes." "But he's like, good. He's like good. No offense, but he's like GOOD." Sheesh.
So the first verse of "Song of Myself" is a product of those experiences. It's waking up alone for as long as you can remember, and thinking if you could just be skinnier, slightly taller, or have a better option for a career, you might be desired by someone.
Potential Verse 1:
"I meet women everyday
I meet women every way
And they always seem to duck out of my life
They want to change who I want to be,
They want to change my height, my age, my weight,
My personality
That's like their finder's fee"
The chorus has had a several incarnations, and has much more to do with my time spent both in Long Island for a summer and in Manchester, England. When I was on Long Island, I was living with one of my best friends and taking the train in on weekends to record some music on Staten Island.
On the way in, I kept trying to write something for the chorus. It was pouring outside, and so I used that as inspiration:
Potential Chorus:
"But it's raining
And right about now, another drop reminds me that
I'm here again
What I'm saying
Is I'm handing out my heart to you for free
Don't hold it above me"
It wasn't super catchy, but it was a start. I remember playing it for my good friend Kate, and she wasn't thrilled with it. So I let the song simmer a bit longer.
So we fast forward by a few short months, and I hop on a plane to England to study abroad in Manchester. It was only my second time on an aircraft, and it ended up being one of the best times of my life. I tried on a daily basis to harness my creativity, to write something epic and hard-hitting. I wanted so badly to do my best work as a musician in England, because it was such an amazing place. But there was no real inspirado - no English girl I was chasing, no real drama, just good friends and a good life. It wasn't enough to compel me.
In particular, I worked on this song. I wanted to make a statement about myself for once, and what I had to offer the world. But upon thinking about it, what did I really have to offer? In many ways, I tried to copy the styles of musicians I revered with my writing, and it was never as good. Not even close. I was not trying to become a good singer, and simply went through the motions when I performed.
In fact, the only thing that was even halfway "out of the ordinary" that happened to me there was the day before I left to return to America. One of the beautiful blonde barmaids at the Thirsty Scholar, the pub I would play open mic at every week, had become an acquaintance of mine. Aquaintance in the sense that I would see her there, speak for some time while she fetched me drinks, and this would recur every week for like 15 weeks. On my last day though, when I told her I was leaving, she called me over to the side of the bar, met me there, and gave me the biggest wet kiss on the lips I'd ever gotten, to this day. It was completely unexpected! It made my insides jump. She told me to never, ever stop singing. No matter what. God bless the British!
Potential Verse:
"It's to feeling so free, so content, and so high
When the British barmaid kisses you goodbye
And the lights down Oxford Road seem to melt
This must be a Song of Myself."
See, as a writer though, that is FAR too specific, and unless you know the entire back story, it would not really move you. Not to mention, as a writer, you must make your words be able to cross the gap between people, and make what I say shed light on something you experience. That is what makes things memorable, and makes for the best songs.
So, I scrapped that. I was not in the right head space. The song would need to simmer.
I return home from England, and return to normal college life. I had a new girlfriend, new roommates, and even more change. I decided to really "go" with the Song of Myself imagery, and call out Walt Whitman by name. I have always enjoyed his work, and remember reading his poems in high school English. Basically, I wanted to know how he did it. How did you write your Song?
New Chorus:
"Mr. Whitman, please, could you give me some advice
'Cause I'm not really sure if I'm doing it right
There aren't any women here to write about left
So this must be a Song of Myself"
I HATED the third line, the "There aren't any women here to write about left" part. It wasn't necessarily true, and was just a place filler until I came up with a better line. The third line in this chorus, by any conventional poetic form, is the most hard-hitting; all I could say right now was that there's no more "chicks" to write about. Blech.
Fast forward another year, and I am living in New York City. New loves, new experiences, new people, and a totally fresh perspective. It is here I learned lessons that I carry with me everyday. Through my close friends, I learned how valuable family is for one's health, how important it is to take a step back, and from a select few, what loving truly means, both romantically and to a friend. Therefore, my success or lack of success is not as paramount, if I have people around me that I cherish, love, and respect. And if I live well, if I am a good man, that, too, is a victory.
I attended a songwriting mini-retreat that my manager set up with two friends of mine, Tina Mathieu and Zach Hurd. In their own individual rights, they are brilliantly talented, and both very, very unique. Ginger, our manager, thought we might be able to pen a song together to promote to a pop artist to cut on their record. It was a lofty and unlikely goal, but it did focus and motivate us.
I mentioned my song, and how I've been stuck on it for some time now, and both Zach and Tina decided we should try and finish it. We spent hours singing what we could, getting stuck a few times, and eventually helped to form about 90% of the song as it exists today. We shifted the focus in the second verse to women, and how they sometimes live for other people by the way they dress and act. They fail, just as much as men do, to recognize when a man does not value their intellect or personality, in addition to how they look.
Second Verse:
"I see women everyday
I see women every way
Thinking a shorter skirt's gonna make that man go crazy
But does he listen to you talk?
I mean really listen to you talk
Then you could see
If the problem really lies with you and me"
So the problem came with the lack of a bridge. The song simply needed something to break it up for a bit, and take us on home to the outro, something I'll get to in a moment.
I thought long and hard on how to do this, and then took it back to Walt Whitman. I decided I would quote him briefly, and use it as a vehicle to the outro, which is the part I know people will have stuck in their heads.
Bridge:
"Two roads are diverging
And who knows which way to go?
My past, and present are merging
And I hear my mother's voice
I hear my mother's words
I hear my mother's voice
Say quietly, when I heard:"
Few things: first, Walt Whitman NEVER WROTE "Two roads diverged in a wood, I took the one less travelled." Robert Frost did! In my attempt to be clever, I grabbed a quote that has great meaning in this song, but with the wrong guy. My friend Ann pointed that out to me, and all I could do was laugh at my hubris. I like to think I know everything, and how funny it is to be humorously humbled. Still makes me laugh!
Second, my Mother is a tremendous woman and presence in my life. She really is. And if you've ever met her, you sense it, too, for yourself. Like my entire family, she is ironclad in her support of my musical pursuits. They are often the hardest pushers for me, especially in times I want to play it safe. So I wanted to pay homage to her somehow, in song. So I attributed the quote in the outro to her, even though she has never actually said those words to me. But her raising of me as a kid, and her support, speaks to it.
Outro:
"Be content in who you are
Be content in that you might not necessarily go far
But you'll try anyway"
And what does that mean? Well, it means that you can reach as high as you can, go as far as you can go, and success is not always defined by reaching the goal. It is defined by the man or woman you are; it is defined by the kind of life you live. Humility and sincerity are important traits every man or woman must possess, and to live good is to live well. And who knows? You might not make your dream. But you chase it as hard as you can. And you stare every obstacle in the face and decide to go through it, not around it, because you have the love of those around you that will always protect you.
So, in many ways, this song has been with me like height markings on the wall. You start with me being a teenager, and end with me being a man. And I hope you are moved by it. It is the most honest grouping of words I've ever been able to put together.
Here's the lyrics to "Song of Myself:"
"I meet women every day
I meet women every way
And they always seem to duck out of my life
They want to change who I want to be
They want to change my height, my age, my weight,
My personality
That's like their finder's fee
So don't hold it above me
Push and shove me
Say you love me
Where did all of this go?
Mr. Whitman, please, could you give me some advice
'Cause I'm not really sure if I'm doing it right
My inspiration is the only thing that's left
So this must be a Song of Myself
I see women everyday
I see women every way
Thinking a shorter skirt's gonna make that man go crazy
But does he listen to you talk?
I mean really listen to you talk
Then you could see
If the problem really lies with you and me
So don't hold it above me
Push and shove me
Say you love me
Where did chivalry go?
Mr. Whitman, please, could you give me some advice
'Cause I'm not really sure if I'm doing it right
My inspiration is the only thing that's left
So this must be a Song of Myself
Two roads are diverging
And who knows which way to go?
My past, and present are merging
And I hear my mother's voice
I hear my mother's words
I hear my mother's voice
Say quietly, when I heard:
Be content in who you are
Be content in that you might not necessarily go far
But you'll try anyway" (repeat)
Sorry for the long post, but there's a lot of personal history with this one. It's going to be a beautifully energetic gospel-based tune, and I cannot wait to get in the studio and groove on it.
Thanks for taking the time to read! Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com if you wish to contribute to making this whole project happen! Your help is so greatly appreciated!
-John
www.myspace.com/johnschmitt
"Song of Myself"
I've been writing "Song of Myself" since I was a junior in college. That is 6 years ago. I just finished it about three months ago!
This song, in particular, has always seemed to linger when I would write. I've gone through about 4 different choruses, a myriad of verses, spent time trying to co-write the song with someone else, and taken it with me to different continents all in the hopes of living an experience worth writing about, and getting it done.
I was listening to O.A.R. thanks to my friend Mark introducing it to me in his car once while visiting him in PA. The chord structures were very simple and repetitive, and the melodies were catchy, albeit loaded with a bit of cheese. I began noodling on my guitar and found a riff using 6ths that descended, which sounded great.
I started to try and sing over it, but I found writing something was enormously difficult. Not because of the chords, which were basic, but what was I getting at? I can't write about nothing. At the time, I was in college, no girlfriend, no real drama or issues; it was calm.
Thinking about those around me, it was apparent how people truly fall to the wayside most of the time. Or, how they "duck out", like someone would at a party, leaving without saying anything. And how particular we as men and women want to change our perspective partners to fall in line with what we envision them to be - taller, darker, more handsome, smarter. You see this constantly. Some guy who enjoys watching hockey and drinking beer in his underwear meets some girl that rocks his world. Next time you see him, he's in a button up shirt, khaki pants, and sipping wine.
There's nothing wrong with that! But amazing how we much always pay a "finder's fee" to the opposite sex, that we must learn something new or change something in order to be worth of another person's affections.
Or in my case, a girl I had been in very deep "like" with told me I was crazy for wanting to be a songwriter and musician. "You mean, like a Jason Mraz, musician?" "Yes." "But he's like, good. He's like good. No offense, but he's like GOOD." Sheesh.
So the first verse of "Song of Myself" is a product of those experiences. It's waking up alone for as long as you can remember, and thinking if you could just be skinnier, slightly taller, or have a better option for a career, you might be desired by someone.
Potential Verse 1:
"I meet women everyday
I meet women every way
And they always seem to duck out of my life
They want to change who I want to be,
They want to change my height, my age, my weight,
My personality
That's like their finder's fee"
The chorus has had a several incarnations, and has much more to do with my time spent both in Long Island for a summer and in Manchester, England. When I was on Long Island, I was living with one of my best friends and taking the train in on weekends to record some music on Staten Island.
On the way in, I kept trying to write something for the chorus. It was pouring outside, and so I used that as inspiration:
Potential Chorus:
"But it's raining
And right about now, another drop reminds me that
I'm here again
What I'm saying
Is I'm handing out my heart to you for free
Don't hold it above me"
It wasn't super catchy, but it was a start. I remember playing it for my good friend Kate, and she wasn't thrilled with it. So I let the song simmer a bit longer.
So we fast forward by a few short months, and I hop on a plane to England to study abroad in Manchester. It was only my second time on an aircraft, and it ended up being one of the best times of my life. I tried on a daily basis to harness my creativity, to write something epic and hard-hitting. I wanted so badly to do my best work as a musician in England, because it was such an amazing place. But there was no real inspirado - no English girl I was chasing, no real drama, just good friends and a good life. It wasn't enough to compel me.
In particular, I worked on this song. I wanted to make a statement about myself for once, and what I had to offer the world. But upon thinking about it, what did I really have to offer? In many ways, I tried to copy the styles of musicians I revered with my writing, and it was never as good. Not even close. I was not trying to become a good singer, and simply went through the motions when I performed.
In fact, the only thing that was even halfway "out of the ordinary" that happened to me there was the day before I left to return to America. One of the beautiful blonde barmaids at the Thirsty Scholar, the pub I would play open mic at every week, had become an acquaintance of mine. Aquaintance in the sense that I would see her there, speak for some time while she fetched me drinks, and this would recur every week for like 15 weeks. On my last day though, when I told her I was leaving, she called me over to the side of the bar, met me there, and gave me the biggest wet kiss on the lips I'd ever gotten, to this day. It was completely unexpected! It made my insides jump. She told me to never, ever stop singing. No matter what. God bless the British!
Potential Verse:
"It's to feeling so free, so content, and so high
When the British barmaid kisses you goodbye
And the lights down Oxford Road seem to melt
This must be a Song of Myself."
See, as a writer though, that is FAR too specific, and unless you know the entire back story, it would not really move you. Not to mention, as a writer, you must make your words be able to cross the gap between people, and make what I say shed light on something you experience. That is what makes things memorable, and makes for the best songs.
So, I scrapped that. I was not in the right head space. The song would need to simmer.
I return home from England, and return to normal college life. I had a new girlfriend, new roommates, and even more change. I decided to really "go" with the Song of Myself imagery, and call out Walt Whitman by name. I have always enjoyed his work, and remember reading his poems in high school English. Basically, I wanted to know how he did it. How did you write your Song?
New Chorus:
"Mr. Whitman, please, could you give me some advice
'Cause I'm not really sure if I'm doing it right
There aren't any women here to write about left
So this must be a Song of Myself"
I HATED the third line, the "There aren't any women here to write about left" part. It wasn't necessarily true, and was just a place filler until I came up with a better line. The third line in this chorus, by any conventional poetic form, is the most hard-hitting; all I could say right now was that there's no more "chicks" to write about. Blech.
Fast forward another year, and I am living in New York City. New loves, new experiences, new people, and a totally fresh perspective. It is here I learned lessons that I carry with me everyday. Through my close friends, I learned how valuable family is for one's health, how important it is to take a step back, and from a select few, what loving truly means, both romantically and to a friend. Therefore, my success or lack of success is not as paramount, if I have people around me that I cherish, love, and respect. And if I live well, if I am a good man, that, too, is a victory.
I attended a songwriting mini-retreat that my manager set up with two friends of mine, Tina Mathieu and Zach Hurd. In their own individual rights, they are brilliantly talented, and both very, very unique. Ginger, our manager, thought we might be able to pen a song together to promote to a pop artist to cut on their record. It was a lofty and unlikely goal, but it did focus and motivate us.
I mentioned my song, and how I've been stuck on it for some time now, and both Zach and Tina decided we should try and finish it. We spent hours singing what we could, getting stuck a few times, and eventually helped to form about 90% of the song as it exists today. We shifted the focus in the second verse to women, and how they sometimes live for other people by the way they dress and act. They fail, just as much as men do, to recognize when a man does not value their intellect or personality, in addition to how they look.
Second Verse:
"I see women everyday
I see women every way
Thinking a shorter skirt's gonna make that man go crazy
But does he listen to you talk?
I mean really listen to you talk
Then you could see
If the problem really lies with you and me"
So the problem came with the lack of a bridge. The song simply needed something to break it up for a bit, and take us on home to the outro, something I'll get to in a moment.
I thought long and hard on how to do this, and then took it back to Walt Whitman. I decided I would quote him briefly, and use it as a vehicle to the outro, which is the part I know people will have stuck in their heads.
Bridge:
"Two roads are diverging
And who knows which way to go?
My past, and present are merging
And I hear my mother's voice
I hear my mother's words
I hear my mother's voice
Say quietly, when I heard:"
Few things: first, Walt Whitman NEVER WROTE "Two roads diverged in a wood, I took the one less travelled." Robert Frost did! In my attempt to be clever, I grabbed a quote that has great meaning in this song, but with the wrong guy. My friend Ann pointed that out to me, and all I could do was laugh at my hubris. I like to think I know everything, and how funny it is to be humorously humbled. Still makes me laugh!
Second, my Mother is a tremendous woman and presence in my life. She really is. And if you've ever met her, you sense it, too, for yourself. Like my entire family, she is ironclad in her support of my musical pursuits. They are often the hardest pushers for me, especially in times I want to play it safe. So I wanted to pay homage to her somehow, in song. So I attributed the quote in the outro to her, even though she has never actually said those words to me. But her raising of me as a kid, and her support, speaks to it.
Outro:
"Be content in who you are
Be content in that you might not necessarily go far
But you'll try anyway"
And what does that mean? Well, it means that you can reach as high as you can, go as far as you can go, and success is not always defined by reaching the goal. It is defined by the man or woman you are; it is defined by the kind of life you live. Humility and sincerity are important traits every man or woman must possess, and to live good is to live well. And who knows? You might not make your dream. But you chase it as hard as you can. And you stare every obstacle in the face and decide to go through it, not around it, because you have the love of those around you that will always protect you.
So, in many ways, this song has been with me like height markings on the wall. You start with me being a teenager, and end with me being a man. And I hope you are moved by it. It is the most honest grouping of words I've ever been able to put together.
Here's the lyrics to "Song of Myself:"
"I meet women every day
I meet women every way
And they always seem to duck out of my life
They want to change who I want to be
They want to change my height, my age, my weight,
My personality
That's like their finder's fee
So don't hold it above me
Push and shove me
Say you love me
Where did all of this go?
Mr. Whitman, please, could you give me some advice
'Cause I'm not really sure if I'm doing it right
My inspiration is the only thing that's left
So this must be a Song of Myself
I see women everyday
I see women every way
Thinking a shorter skirt's gonna make that man go crazy
But does he listen to you talk?
I mean really listen to you talk
Then you could see
If the problem really lies with you and me
So don't hold it above me
Push and shove me
Say you love me
Where did chivalry go?
Mr. Whitman, please, could you give me some advice
'Cause I'm not really sure if I'm doing it right
My inspiration is the only thing that's left
So this must be a Song of Myself
Two roads are diverging
And who knows which way to go?
My past, and present are merging
And I hear my mother's voice
I hear my mother's words
I hear my mother's voice
Say quietly, when I heard:
Be content in who you are
Be content in that you might not necessarily go far
But you'll try anyway" (repeat)
Sorry for the long post, but there's a lot of personal history with this one. It's going to be a beautifully energetic gospel-based tune, and I cannot wait to get in the studio and groove on it.
Thanks for taking the time to read! Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com if you wish to contribute to making this whole project happen! Your help is so greatly appreciated!
-John
www.myspace.com/johnschmitt
February 17, 2010
MY ALBUM PREVIEW, SONG 3: "February Here"
Unlike the other songs on my new record, "February Here" was written about 6 years ago, while in college. It is not a product of my living in New York, but has such a common theme as the rest of the music: hope, tinged with disappointment or longing.
The way the song actually was written comes from my time as an R.A. at SUNY Fredonia. I was working in an all-freshman male dorm called Chautauqua Hall ("Sha-TAH-Kwah"), on the third floor. Part of your duties of being an R.A. involves being "on duty" for a particular weekend, sitting at the front desk and signing in resident's guests for the night. It has considerable downtime, and that is where I honed my skills at table tennis and pool. It is where I got very good at playing video games, and where I would practice guitar.
It was February then, 2004, and I was sitting desk on a Friday night. My friend Ian, who was once a resident of mine, was away in Philadelphia seeing his girlfriend, and he allowed me to borrow his beautiful Martin acoustic guitar for the weekend. It was the nicest guitar I've ever held up to then.
So there I was, in the office, with my customary notebook, and I started to scribble out words, first just a stream of consciousness.
"Deja vu and all those catchy phrases that make the word so clear" - I had just learned in Social Psychology how cliches and axioms are human constructs designed to minimize anxiety and simplify situations. By creating a simple explanation for something otherwise complex, (i.e. a chain is only as strong as its weakest link), it becomes easier to decipher what is happening in the complex arena that is human interactions.
I then started thinking of how Valentine's Day was approaching rapidly; how this Valentine's Day would be the same as the other 18 Valentine's Days before it (1 was when I was dating someone, and I was 20 at the time). I was alone, very lonely, and the person I wanted to be with happened to be dating a friend of mine. The last time I was enjoying a Valentine's Day, I was in love, and it was high school. Since then, it has been a sad and sorry few years for me in my love life, and I was still in many ways suffering from the burns of that last real relationship ending. I found that I actually liked the way listening to very sad music made me feel; how I was not really cheered up, but rather, I had company down in the depths. To this day, there is something satisfactory about listening to what I normally refer to as "sad bastard music" and feeling sorry about myself - I can't explain it.
It's also amazing how new people, when you start to get to know them, and begin a journey in love or friendship, take you on a completely unique path. It's amazing how falling for someone versus another feels different in your life, and you can never truly capture the way it felt the first time. The person I wanted, I did not love...yet. But I wanted to know what loving her would feel like.
And so that whole feeling from that February, it seemed to be on repeat; it was always February here, in my cold, disconnect world. I was always feeling this loneliness, this longing, this sense of needing someone else to be whole again. And I was literally looking for it everywhere.
I see now, and have grown to appreciate, that I must be content in who I am (but that's for another song to discuss on this album).
I recorded the song in my dormroom, and added a myriad of guitar parts, and they all seemed to work together beautifully. It is, by far, my favorite musical composition of mine, and even seemed to impress Caleb when we were working on pre-production. It will be acoustic-based with some electronic elements, similar to what my friends Nathan and Becky did on their Barnaby Bright CD, "Wake the Hero." It's Imogen Heap without the auto-tune, if that makes sense.
Here are the lyrics to "February Here:"
Deja vu and all those catchy phrases
That make the world so clear
I wrote them down, I wrote the times and places
I think that I've been here before
Before you came I saw the world in seasons
Like winter, fall, and spring
So when it snows it's always summer somewhere else
And it's February here
It's February here
It bubbles up from deep inside of me
And the trouble is just getting you to see
That I want
To know what
It feels like
To love you.
I want
To see what
It looks like
Above you.
Falling back into this empty bedroom
I draw the shades down tight
I'm feeling cramped, I think I need more headroom
I'll take a walk outside
There's something about watching the snowflakes dancing
And floating in the wind
It helps a lonely man forget he's part of
Another February here
It's always February here
There's so much of me I know I could let go
Pretty soon the only question that I'll know
Is I want
To know what
It feels like
To love you
I want
To see what
It looks like
Above you
Thank you for reading. Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com should you be interested in donating to help make the album possible! Over $3,000 has been raised, and there's a long way to go to make it really happen!
Best,
John
www.myspace.com/johnschmitt
The way the song actually was written comes from my time as an R.A. at SUNY Fredonia. I was working in an all-freshman male dorm called Chautauqua Hall ("Sha-TAH-Kwah"), on the third floor. Part of your duties of being an R.A. involves being "on duty" for a particular weekend, sitting at the front desk and signing in resident's guests for the night. It has considerable downtime, and that is where I honed my skills at table tennis and pool. It is where I got very good at playing video games, and where I would practice guitar.
It was February then, 2004, and I was sitting desk on a Friday night. My friend Ian, who was once a resident of mine, was away in Philadelphia seeing his girlfriend, and he allowed me to borrow his beautiful Martin acoustic guitar for the weekend. It was the nicest guitar I've ever held up to then.
So there I was, in the office, with my customary notebook, and I started to scribble out words, first just a stream of consciousness.
"Deja vu and all those catchy phrases that make the word so clear" - I had just learned in Social Psychology how cliches and axioms are human constructs designed to minimize anxiety and simplify situations. By creating a simple explanation for something otherwise complex, (i.e. a chain is only as strong as its weakest link), it becomes easier to decipher what is happening in the complex arena that is human interactions.
I then started thinking of how Valentine's Day was approaching rapidly; how this Valentine's Day would be the same as the other 18 Valentine's Days before it (1 was when I was dating someone, and I was 20 at the time). I was alone, very lonely, and the person I wanted to be with happened to be dating a friend of mine. The last time I was enjoying a Valentine's Day, I was in love, and it was high school. Since then, it has been a sad and sorry few years for me in my love life, and I was still in many ways suffering from the burns of that last real relationship ending. I found that I actually liked the way listening to very sad music made me feel; how I was not really cheered up, but rather, I had company down in the depths. To this day, there is something satisfactory about listening to what I normally refer to as "sad bastard music" and feeling sorry about myself - I can't explain it.
It's also amazing how new people, when you start to get to know them, and begin a journey in love or friendship, take you on a completely unique path. It's amazing how falling for someone versus another feels different in your life, and you can never truly capture the way it felt the first time. The person I wanted, I did not love...yet. But I wanted to know what loving her would feel like.
And so that whole feeling from that February, it seemed to be on repeat; it was always February here, in my cold, disconnect world. I was always feeling this loneliness, this longing, this sense of needing someone else to be whole again. And I was literally looking for it everywhere.
I see now, and have grown to appreciate, that I must be content in who I am (but that's for another song to discuss on this album).
I recorded the song in my dormroom, and added a myriad of guitar parts, and they all seemed to work together beautifully. It is, by far, my favorite musical composition of mine, and even seemed to impress Caleb when we were working on pre-production. It will be acoustic-based with some electronic elements, similar to what my friends Nathan and Becky did on their Barnaby Bright CD, "Wake the Hero." It's Imogen Heap without the auto-tune, if that makes sense.
Here are the lyrics to "February Here:"
Deja vu and all those catchy phrases
That make the world so clear
I wrote them down, I wrote the times and places
I think that I've been here before
Before you came I saw the world in seasons
Like winter, fall, and spring
So when it snows it's always summer somewhere else
And it's February here
It's February here
It bubbles up from deep inside of me
And the trouble is just getting you to see
That I want
To know what
It feels like
To love you.
I want
To see what
It looks like
Above you.
Falling back into this empty bedroom
I draw the shades down tight
I'm feeling cramped, I think I need more headroom
I'll take a walk outside
There's something about watching the snowflakes dancing
And floating in the wind
It helps a lonely man forget he's part of
Another February here
It's always February here
There's so much of me I know I could let go
Pretty soon the only question that I'll know
Is I want
To know what
It feels like
To love you
I want
To see what
It looks like
Above you
Thank you for reading. Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com should you be interested in donating to help make the album possible! Over $3,000 has been raised, and there's a long way to go to make it really happen!
Best,
John
www.myspace.com/johnschmitt
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