Tag Archives: songwriting

Write in the middle of it all

April 15, 2022 Joseph

Okay, so, what rhymes with Klondike? No, that’s two words. I’m looking for one, man. Why am I so exacting? Well, let me tell you, fool … you don’t get to where I got without applying a little exactitude in all the right places. Take it from Mr. Nobody. You heard it here first!

Well, hello, cybernauts, and welcome to the home of Big Green. We’ve been around so long, we seem like a square. Ain’t that the way with popular music groups … particularly the ones that aren’t so popular. Why, we’ve been making noises under the name Big Green since Matt wore skinny ties and I rolled my jacket sleeves up to the elbow. Yes, we lived in the eighties. It wasn’t easy, kids, no matter what they tell you. There were no hover crafts, no jet packs – none of the things you young’uns are used to these days.

Putting the tune in cartoons

Like most bands, our biggest challenge is developing new material. Mind you, we stand on a mountain of older songs, thanks largely to the relentless songwriting machine known as the right honorable Matthew Perry, esq. He has an enormous catalog of numbers covering a range of topics, from bad t.v. shows to disease to space Nazis. (No, not THOSE space Nazis … other ones.) Why, we could spend the rest of our lives making decent recordings of songs that he demoed in a rush thirty years ago, and never run out of material.

But man was not meant for that! One must never rest upon one’s laurels, even if you’ve been ceremoniously presented with a laurel and hardy handshake. No, sir – music is about the new, the now, the WOW. Ask any cartoon character on Saturday morning television. Did the Archies play old songs? Did Josey and the Pussycats hash out retreads of other people’s material? Of course they didn’t. If they had, they would have been laughed out of the cartooniverse. I think we can all take a lesson from that.

Scraping around for subject matter

Right, so as you probably know, we resort to some unorthodox methods of songwriting, particularly when under time pressure. Sometimes I go for plucking random words out of a dictionary. Matt prefers old cookbooks, but hell, they’re all the same words, just in different orders. Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Joe! Why don’t you wait until you hear from a major record label before you start writing? Just sit with your pen at the ready, until the phone rings with that eight figure offer.” That was it, wasn’t it? Just call me Kreskin. Or Criswell. Even though I’m not.

See? I'm not Criswell. How much more proof do you need?

Hey man – we don’t sit around the hammer mill waiting for someone to make us work. Hell, we’ve been sitting around this place for years, and nothing remotely like that has ever happened. Not sure where I was going with that, but anyway … we have always been self starters. I like to think that we work circles around other bands when it comes to living in a hammer mill. Top that, Captured by Robots!

Anything we can do

You know how the song goes, right? Anything we can do, you can do better … or something like that. Well, fuck that song. I’m getting out my scratch pad and freestyling some song lyrics. It’s that or do the dishes. Decisions, decisions.

Usual Rubbish

Taking the words WAY too literally.

June 11, 2021 Joseph

Jesus, man … another song about geoscience? Just wait until Mitch gets his hands on that. What’s the topic this time – gravitation? I guess he’s already fucked with that sufficiently. Still, I worry.

Yeah, that’s right. No one wants to see your friends in Big Green just moping around the abandoned hammer mill like a bunch of sad sacks, bickering with one another. So we make an extra effort to smile when we get visitors. And if we’re not in the mood, we get Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to do it for us. No, he doesn’t have anything like what you might call a mouth, but he’s got some grill work to show, and that will do in a pinch.

What’s the beef? Nothing serious. Just interrogating my illustrious brother Matt about the subject matter of his recent songwriting. Some of you may recall that his lyrics have spawned some trouble in the past. No, they’re not controversial or obscene in any way, but they do give Mitch Macaphee, our mad science advisor, some bad ideas. And he tends to take our song lyrics very literally.

The Question of George

A couple of years ago it was Matt’s song “Why Not Call It George?”, the lyric for which has always sounded to me, in part, like a bulleted list of mad-man items:

Gravity can: (a) make your mind flow out from your tongue; (b) take your eyes downtown to see the nuns all bunched up on the tiles; (c) pull your lips back from your smile

(Hear it yourself: Check out our live version of the song on our YouTube channel.)

Parts of that song made Mitch think he could (dare I say it?) rule … the world! Or at least reverse continental drift and reclaim Pangaea. I got nervous when he started spending months at a time in the lab … and the ground started shaking. Not. good.

This doesn't seem like such a good idea.

Eruption Imminent!

Then there was “Volcano Man”, a track from our 2nd album, International House. Mitch started obsessing over that one as well. You know how grade school kids sometimes build those baking soda volcanoes for school projects? Well, that’s a miniature version of what we had to deal with around this dump. Of course, Mitch had to open a vent straight down to the Earth’s molten caramel center, just so that the ‘cano was authentic. He was doing it with an upside-down rocket, Crack In The World style. What a mess!

Anyhow, I’ve tried to encourage Matt to write songs about less volatile things. You know, like …. butterflies, or cobblestones, or vegetable stew. Maybe you’ve got some suggestions that don’t suck (like these do).

Usual Rubbish

Tin pan valley.

August 14, 2020 Joseph

This piano needs tuning. What? Yes, yes … I know it’s missing fourteen keys and there are rodents living in it, but nevertheless, the fact remains that IT STILL NEEDS TUNING. What kind of a place is this, anyway?

Oh, right … THAT kind of a place. I sometimes forget where I’m squatting. Abandoned hammer mills are notorious for having poorly maintained upright pianos. Even the ones that are fortunate enough to get converted to consignment stores or mini-malls are plagued with out-of-tune spinets and uprights. I think it’s the moisture, the rising damp, as it were. In any case, the instrument sitting in what used to be the machine shop here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill has seen better days … and not recently. I do have an old tuning hammer and have tried to wrack it up to somewhere close to concert C, but my reward has been paltry – mostly indents in my forehead from snapping piano strings. Ouch.

Why, you may ask, in this age of electronics do I need to be banging away at an old upright? Good question, nameless interlocutor! There are in fact several reasons:

Reason One: We neglected to pay our power bill. Turns out National Grid doesn’t have a great sense of humor about these things. They pulled the plug on us almost immediately. For a while we had Marvin (my personal robot assistant) chugging along on a treadmill tied to a generator, but, of course, he runs on electricity and, as such, could only generate enough electricity to walk on the treadmill. Sure, Mitch Macaphee, our mad science advisor, could come up with some kind of perpetual energy source, but he’s away at one of his innumerable conferences. (They’re planning something, those mad scientists. I just know it.)

Reason Two: We’re freaking broke, so it’s time to make some money at this asinine undertaking. I’ve dusted off my thirty year old edition of the Songwriter’s Market and I’m going to sit here at this piano and write pop songs for the biggies. Lots of ways you can go with this songwriting game, Mack. First … change your name to Mack. Then choose a genre. You might go with love songs, or maybe religious numbers. Hell, you can start with one and then use the same tunes for the other – just change “baby, baby, baby” to “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus” or vice versa, and you’re all set. Before you know it, you’ll be looking at the birth of a regular tin pan alley in the Mohawk Valley.

Reason Three: Bored out of my gourd! This is the most boring summer ever. In these COVID-plagued days, what else is there to do but pound on distressed pianos and croon about better times? (Seriously, if you can think of shit to do around here, let us know.)

BIG GREEN