TomFlannery.com

I get the thing close….and then it rolls back down to the bottom and nearly flattens me. But I got a few more attempts left in me before my arms fall off.

Always remember…..if shit was gold the poor wouldn’t have assholes.

That’s the kinda world I’m forced to try to be creative in.

Just wrote and cut a song today called “Pills and Jesus”.

Four eyes and a mixed up head
beer cans underneath the bed
short skirts, fruit, and snakes
and time to transubstantiate

You think you have issues?

In my spare time I’ve also come to the conclusion that Joe DiMaggio killed Kennedy. It’s so obvious I’m surprised it took me this long to figure it out.

I’ve discovered Will Hoge too…..got about 6 of his records. Killer stuff. Honest straight ahead rock and roll….and he sings like Otis Redding just to make me even more jealous. His music is certainly helping me deal with my latest crisis, which is merely the potential for utter catastrophic financial ruin. Ain’t no big thang. I’m actually kinda amazed I’ve avoided this for so long.

Anyway….gotta twiddle some more.

In a bit….

–tf

Spent all day Sunday recording. Eight songs done. Like the flush of young love, I felt better Sunday night than I did on Monday morning.

Some good stuff there I think. Some dreck too, which needs to be addressed. Some re-writes are in order…..which I hate because I’m never sure if I’m trying to make a song better or make it less terrible.

Need a few days to clear the head. Then back in the cold water…

In a bit..

–tf

Have decided to scrap the recordings I have….and re-do everything all in a single session. That should give the songs some continuity of sound, which should help hold the perceived narrative together. Such is the hope anyway.

Still working on the last few songs. Getting more excited about it now. All I really need is about 6 more hours in a day…..and the ability to take caffeine intravenously as well as orally. I couldn’t imagine my giddiness if I was actually getting paid for this shit.

As I type this my dog is at my feet literally ripping the stuffing out of her stuffed blue bear. She may be trying to tell me something.

In a bit…

–tf

Just wrote this song.

Of course Jimmy wants to be a rocker. What kid doesn’t? He wants to swing his arm like a maniac and tear his fingers apart until they bleed and leave shreds of Gibson’s and Telecaster’s in his wake……and then go backstage and plunder like a Hun.

Nice work if you can get it.

In a bit…

–tf

Sat down late last night at my desk….in the dark except for a dying green tinted desk lamp, and out came a song called “I’m Still Me”. Jimmy is taking all the hits….from a Mother who has turned to television preachers to a Dad who worships at the altar of Jim Beam. Jimmy’s face drones away in the hallway like a teacher in front of a sleeping class, too long in the job. He’s no more than a blip on somebody’s statistical survey map. But without the struggle to become something other than piped in store Muzak, what’s the point? So he contemplates his next move….

As do I.

In a bit…

–tf

Been struggling with a song called “Another True Believer”. Think I finally got it right last night. Time will tell. Such a simple little song, but it kept squirming out of my grasp. Like trying to pick up water with your hands.

Been a tough few days in the neighborhood. We all lost a wonderful piece of our lives, and it hurts individually and collectively. Sometimes you just wish you could turn back the clock. But time hits you like a train. Anyway, work is the refuge, as a friend once said. I believe that to be true. I’m trying to lose myself in mine.

Over the last few weeks I’ve also stitched together a rough first draft of the play for high school students I’ve been asked to write. I need to type it up, as right now it’s all scribbled in longhand all over a legal pad. Hopefully there’s some coherence buried in there.

Have a new lyric I’m going to try to lay down today. A few more ideas. I’m putting my Jimmy through the ringer. But he’s a kid. He can take it.

Anyway, don’t take anything for granted. It could all be taken away. Do what you do, and do it to the best of your ability. And if you can do it today, don’t wait until tomorrow.

In a bit…

–tf

Five songs are done. Cut them during my lunch hour today.

Now the sprint to the end. Jimmy has already been through a lot. I see more clouds on his horizon.

In a bit…

–tf

It’s a mystery to me
The game commences
For the usual fee
Plus expenses

—Mark Knopfler

Decided to write all the songs first…..then record them in one session. Jimmy is proving to be one messed up kid.

Folks continue to disappoint in large doses, either from overactive egos, a lack of common courtesy, or just because they don’t give a shit. There’s a meanness in this world for sure…..but based on what I’m trying to do, all this is sort of a silver lining. Jimmy feels that he can’t trust anybody. Parents, siblings, girls, friends…..they’ve all let him down. What he’s left with is artificial. Stimulants. Fantasy. Cynicism. Only himself to rely on, but still feeling, deep down, that he’s only got himself to blame as well.

What shall he do? That’s what the songs need to answer.

In a bit…

–tf

The work commences. Lots of ideas. A song and a half into it. Things will all coalesce in time. That’s the plan anyway. I suppose they could fall apart too, but what’s the fun in a journey if you already know how it’s gonna turn out?

I’m writing about this kid in my head. My “Jimmy” (no, he’s not a Mod or from the Bay area…give me some credit for originality) is an adolescent who’s inner workings resemble a spider web. He wants to stand out, but before he  can do that he needs to fit in. And this he can’t seem to do. Throw in the seemingly unobtainable girl, a constant shortage of spending $$, and a weakness for certain liquids and chemicals, and you’ve got a hormonal clenched fist heading towards a brick wall. His only hope is to wait out the storm. And then….well….not much changes, except expectations. And maybe that’s enough.

But to get there? How do you get there?

I’ve thought a lot about this, and I really think the only long-time cure for adolescence is not being one anymore. Drugs, sex, and rock and roll work, but only temporarily. Even the best kind of each lasts….what…..a few hours? Or a few minutes maybe.

In a bit…

–tf

Ok….so who says you can’t reach a bit?

I’m going to write a solo-acoustic “Quadraphenia”. Well, not really. But Townshend’s opus is gonna serve as my inspiration as I sit down today and begin sketching out plans for a 10 song cycle dealing with teen angst and all the…well….angst….that being a teen brings on. Of course I’m no longer a teen, but I’m pretty sure I used to be, and at 40+ I’ve got enough left-over dread to light up a football stadium.

I’m going to do this with a whisper, not a scream, so being a rock and roll star will have to wait. And I’m going to do it alone, so joining that street gang that gets all the girls will have to wait too.

The best part about musical solitude is being alone. My ego I can deal with. It’s the expanded belfry’s of others that leaves the bitter taste.

In a bit…

–tf