Let Me Go, The Insatiable Machine

morning paper, filled with nothing to say
silent paper or anything to look away
are you happy? if you are tell me so... or let me go
you're not silver, your tongue must be lead
it's not slipping, must be sleeping instead
are you happy, could you even begin? to let me in, let me go
Roaring quiet, so loud the neighbors can hear
Smoke intentions, so thick that nothing is clear,
are you happy? if you are tell me so, and let me go

A big part of being in a band is letting go. Above, I wrote the complete lyrics to illustrate what I let go for this song. The final version came from a change suggested by Dan, cutting down the words in order to fit the new vibe, and one I carried out. It wasn't easy to edit out half the story, but with the new tempo and feel of the song, it really was necessary.

Though the story suffers, the stomp is stronger for it, a balance I was more than willing to maintain. Of course I am happy with the way it came out, the feel is heavy, and moves like a well oiled machine tearing up the road underneath. But a part of me will always miss the fullness of the story, not that the meaning can't be felt in the final version, and in fact, in its edited disjointed version- the feeling of poor communication is perhaps even better understood.

Let Me Go is about communication. A narrator who can't tell his own story clearly, would definitely have a hard time communicating. To me, it's interesting how other people can influence what we produce. I can't help but wonder what the Wasteland would be like without Pound's input? - more importantly does it matter?

The final statement is the released one, I have a demo with the original lyrics, but that is only an artifact of the process not the result.


I've always felt that honest collaboration makes the best music, and a band, any band, should be a mixture of the people, not the ideals of one. A lot of times I have to put myself aside and let others do what they do.  

Sometimes it's a difficult dance, because there are somethings worth fighting for, artistic touches that should be expressed- but honestly most things aren't.

I don't know if science or psychology can back me up on this: I feel like the creative process is a machine. Like any machine it requires fuel. I prefer to run off of life-experience, and study...books, movies, music.. but it can be fed by anything or anyone. It is an insatiable machine, always thirsty for any bit of life it can suck down. 

The brain collects, I have felt drained/empty but never full, which tells me that more is never enough. It even collects subconsciously. Everything and everyone we encounter is up for grabs- be careful of who and what you surround yourself with because your creativity will be affected. 

Having extra people to springboard off of, to work with, seems to be some of the most potent fuel available. Even if it is an unused idea, different opinions help rapidly evolve a project in ways unimaginable to only one creator. We start off heading in one direction and before I know it the wheel is out of my hands, we are miles off the beaten path and I'm trying to look out a window and find out if this is a good place to be or not.

It's a frightening feeling, one some people can't handle. That is part of what makes songwriting in a group setting so explosive and powerful. And maybe why a lot of our favorite songwriters are actually teams of songwriters - examples are everywhere.

As scary as it is though, I will keep putting my words in the hands of my collaborators, walking a line of individual pride and group identity.

Sometimes it feels like giving away children, though only in my imagination...I have no children as of yet. It all comes down to trust. Do I trust my own opinion? Do I trust my friends? My band mates? My ego will continue to scream from every inch, "it's wrong, it's all wrong!" and "No!" but after a bit, it will quiet down its tantrum and go back to it usual nonsense. Letting me hear what is really happening and make a good decision on whether or not I actually liked my own idea to begin with.

listen to Let Me Go

Nothing needs explaining; to slave my words is vain
with each thought straining to what eyes take plain.
Then what do I have to add, that hasn't yet been told
in every showing inch clad, by passions now embold'?
What texts could I fashion, to accent the clever look-
every intent compassion, Nature carefully put?
You too know me by cloth,
Truth is not easily disguised,
betrayed & caught in suit where I hide


* image from: http://electricliterature.com/blog/2011/06/28/those-are-pearls-that-were-his-ipad-review-of-the-waste-land-app/