A Little Blog Cabin

I knew I had to move away.
There were too many obstacles in the way of my art. Too many big city distractions that lured me from my writing: parties, women, meetings, subpoenas…
I had to move away.
Artists through the ages have felt this same need to simplify their lives; to sacrifice the luxury of their surroundings in purer pursuit of their muse.
In fact, most great works of art were created in a vacuum, free from distraction. I did not own a vacuum, so I decided instead that I would move up to the country.
And while that decision seemed bold to some, it felt quite natural to me. I've never needed the fancier things in life; the gadgets and gizmos of the modern man. I am a simple, country bumpkin at heart. All I need is a soft ground to sleep on. And my music. And a storage facility for all my other stuff.
I headed North, and settled down in a little log cabin by a lake. It was an idyllic writing environment and I set to work immediately, being sure to prioritize my time.
Using the bark from an Elm tree, I fashioned a durable guitar case. Next, I decided to build a guitar, and when I was finished with that, the songs came fast and furious. Songs of great loneliness. Songs of boredom, and isolation, and overwhelming regret. In my sweet solitude, I was prolific; completely at one with my art.
I needed no one, and yet, the animals and insects all gathered around to hear me play. I tried to charge them a cover, but to no avail. Either way, I knew the tunes were good. I was in my creative element, and I had to get these songs down on tape…
I wired a friend to bring up all my old recording gear, and I found a beautiful piano at the local pawnshop.
There was a property for sale down the lane that was more of a summer home than a log cabin, but that would better accommodate my needs. And it had wireless Internet, which was great for keeping my friends updated on my simple country life.
And it had an awesome Jacuzzi on the back deck.
Some time later, my friend Tad, who was a graffiti artist, faxed me to say that he too was moving to the woods to hone his craft. The timing was perfect.
I knew I had to move back to the city. There were parties and meetings that I had to attend. And this country bumpkin was dying for a latté.
So I sold Tad my little rustic hideaway. And I threw in the security system and the jet skis for free.
I learned a lot from my weeklong stay in the woods:
I learned that you can cook fish sticks by rubbing them together.
I learned that robins are wonderful singers, but that they have poor microphone technique.
And I learned that when I am free from distractions I am a much more focused writer. And I learned that when I am free from distractions, I am a much more focused writer.
I end this week's Blog with another interesting musical fact:

- There were very few F Sharps used in 19th century classical music (an
overly competitive Beethoven hid the note under his wig) -

Writer's Blog

When it strikes, it strikes without warning; sapping the creative spirit and rendering the most prolific among us, idle. Writer's block robs us of our inspiration, bringing even the greatest writers to their knees.
Henry Roth wrote his first novel, Call It Sleep, in 1934, and it was instantly hailed as an American classic. Roth's readers couldn't wait for a follow-up, but it took sixty years for Henry Roth to release his second novel. Some accused the man of being lazy; some accused him of being a very slow typist. We now know that Henry Roth suffered from a chronic case of the 'block'.
Celebrated American author, Philip Roth, seems obsessed with the topic. In his critically acclaimed novel, The Anatomy Lesson, main character Nathan Zuckerman is an author felled by writer's block. Philip Roth himself is suspected of having it, when his book, Operation Shylock, seems to finish with no discernible ending.
But it's not just American novelists with the last name Roth who are obsessed with this issue.
On his website, popular songwriter and gigolo, David Lee Roth suggests: "I never have writer's block." This may or may not be a good thing. Either way, the lyrics to his song 'Jump', make me think otherwise: "Aaah ohhh. Hey you, who said that? Baby, how you been?"
My great-uncle, Theodore "Ace" Roth, was one of the first Canadian skywriter pilots. Ace would fly his open-cockpit biplane in wild patterns across the sky, composing smoky messages between the clouds. A sudden case of writer's block brought Uncle Ace's career, and his life, to a crashing halt.
Writer's block can kill you. It can also make you a surly person, and a terrible pen pal. And since this problem clearly runs in my family, I have sought out counsel on how to avoid it: Some say it is important to write something on the guitar each day, no matter how good or bad it is. I have tried this, but I just end up with ink all over my guitar. Some say that when you are without ideas, it is helpful to imagine yourself in someone else's shoes. This can work, unless you imagine yourself in the shoes of someone who has writer's block. Many people suggest that when you don't know what to write about, write about the dangers of having writer's block. I would never stoop to such a level.
I end this week's Blog with another interesting musical fact:

- -

New Kid On The Blog

Ever since I was young, I wanted to be a polymath.
"Polymaths get all the girls," my friends would tell me. "Polymaths have it made."
A polymath is a Greek term for someone who is proficient and competent in multiple fields. I misunderstood the definition, and spent my formative years working on a farm.
In fact, a polymath is another word for a 'Renaissance man', or someone who has broad intellectual interests and pursues a variety of artistic and professional endeavours. Leonardo da Vinci, a master painter, engineer and mathematician, was a true Renaissance man. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, German poet, novelist, scientist and painter certainly fulfilled the Renaissance ideal. The Olsen twins are both Renaissance men, with their successful careers in television, film and fashion.
I was determined to join the ranks of the polymathic…
In my early twenties, I tried my hand at painting, studying the delicate art of pointillism. My career ended, however, when my employers discovered that it took me seven years to paint a client's rec room.
In my late twenties, I was determined to become a mathematician, but I found there to be too much math involved.
So at thirty, I took on music in all its forms, working as a songwriter, a producer, a recording artist, and a lyricist. I even played lead guitar in an a cappella band.
But I have one musical dream, as yet unattained. And it may be the one thing keeping me from becoming a Renaissance man (besides a cape and a moustache).
I have never been in a boy band.
I have never sung low harmony with four soul mates while we pop and lock in step at a wicked mall.
"Boy bands get all the girls," my friends would tell me. "Boy bands have it made."
It may be too late for me, but I'm willing to try. I have a few years of good hair left. I have a number of all-white outfits. I can riff.
I am ready for a rebirth. A renaissance.
I end this week's Blog with another interesting musical fact:

- Musicologists believe that the most soothing musical note is a C, especially when played by a masseuse -

Who Let The Blogs Out?

I recently looked up the word 'curious' in the dictionary.
I'm not sure why; I guess I am just (1) unduly inquisitive; or (2) eager to learn.
In any event, Webster's Dictionary (which he wrote long after the cancellation of his sitcom) defines curiosity as (3) the avid desire for knowledge and truth. It is a characteristic that compels all of us to seek out answers. A trait powerful enough to kill a cat and to launch the career of a precocious monkey named George.
Curiosity also helps to explain our leanings toward certain types of art, from the kitschy allure of a 'whodunit' novel, to the thrilling tug of a Hitchcock suspense.
We are engaged when our art keeps us guessing.
And music is no exception, as the great songs of our time ask the great questions of our time: "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?"…"Where Have All The Flowers Gone?"…"Are You Lonesome Tonight?"
"Who Let The Dogs Out?" was a smash hit in 2000 for Bahamas' dance outfit, The Baha Men. Sure its junkanoo dance rhythms were infectious, but I believe we as a listening audience were desperate to find out who, in fact, let the dogs out. Had we known at the time that Steve, the bass player, had let the dogs out, I think the song would've had much less resonance.
Bob Dylan's 1962 masterpiece, "Blowin' In The Wind", invoked many of the philosophical questions of the day. How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? The answer is probably five or six (depending on the neighbourhood), but Dylan teases us a little, suggesting that the answer is 'blowing in the wind'. Maybe he, with his wiry folk-singer frame, could not grab hold of the answer. But it is more likely that Bob Dylan understood our sense of wonder; by not giving us an answer, we'd keep coming back to listen.
This morning, I started writing a song entitled, "Where the hell are my car keys?" I hope it makes you dance, and I hope it makes you curious.
I end this week's Blog with another interesting musical fact:

-The loudest musical note is an E-

It's Raining Cats and Blogs

The weather is turning of late, as we bid farewell to winter and anxiously await the thaw of spring. The grass is starting to show, the birds are singing in the trees and the rain is falling once again. It is a welcome change, and though it seems like years since last spring, it has likely only been one.
With each new season comes new inspiration, and I have long been fascinated by the effects of climate change on one's creative output. In fact, much of the seminal artwork of the twentieth century is inextricably linked to the season of its creation: Pablo Picasso's cold and bleak Blue Period was no doubt a result of the wintry Paris nights during which he worked. The spring rains in Barcelona affected many of Salvador Dali's surrealist paintings, causing much of his work to drip wildly down the canvas. And the deep reds and yellows of Renaissance painter Sandro Botticelli's art (1445-1510) were surely inspired by the summer sun of Florence, impelling Botticelli to ultimately open up a studio in South Beach.
The same holds true for songwriting, with the most influential albums being written during some very influential weather. The constant California sun clearly served as muse for the songs of The Beach Boys, while Nick Drake's melancholic discography was obviously informed by a bleak London forecast.
I have to write a song for an artist today, and if my theory proves correct, the song will start out rather dark and dreary and then clear up in the chorus, with a forty percent chance of it becoming dreary again in the last verse.
One must be at one with the weather to be at one with one's art is my point.
By the way, this correlation may also explain why meteorologists are often fantastic songwriters (check out Al Roker's first two records). Or it may not.
In any event, the next time you walk out in the rain and complain that it is ruining your perm, remember that somewhere an artist is being divinely inspired.
That's all for now.
I end this week's Blog with another interesting musical fact:

-Only one musical note (a B Flat) existed until 940 BC, when King Solomon decreed that popular radio was "getting too boring"-

Inblaugural Address

It has been suggested to me that a 'Blog' is an effective way for an artist to present his or her craft. And yet, I know a number of mimes who would disagree. The same suggestion was made years earlier about the 'World Wide Web', and it's promotional capabilities. And since then, we've seen little to no evidence that this Internet thing is catching on at all.
But I refuse to let the times pass me by, and I am nothing, if not cutting-edge.
So I will boot up my Commodore 64, and I will Blog.
I will Blog weekly, and I will Blog with gusto.
I will Blog in English, and I will Blog like a man who believes that there are actually people around the world who give a crap what he has to say.
I will not use my Blog for evil, but rather, to spread great joy through an appreciation of music and art.
Maybe, the odd time, I will use my Blog to denounce my enemies, but mostly, I will use it to spread great joy.
And in the name of music education, I endeavor to end my Blog each week with a little known musical fact. Like this one:

-According to historians, the very first musical note was invented during
the Paleolithic Era, when a brave, young caveman approached a piano found
outside of his cave-