I wrote this yesterday in about an hour. It wasn’t meant to be overly dramatic but about halfway through the song, I couldn’t help it. I felt that apprehension you get near the end where you just want it to be done with already. It ends like it begins…quiet.
I hate designating music into genres. It was devised by the recording industry so it would be easier to catalogue items. At the turn of the 20th century musicians were getting together in all sorts of new ways and creating all sorts of new genres. The recording industry came along and destroyed that because it was tough to market. So they created ‘black music’ and ‘white music’. The lines (and audiences) were clearly drawn.
Creating genres has culminated in the naming of numerous sub genres. It’s tough to define the lines. If you write a song with an 80’s bass, dance elements over a hiphop beat, which genre does it reallly belong to?
Hiphop is one of those genres that almost destroys any kind of conventional description. As soon as you try another artist comes along and defies convention.
Sometimes I like to focus on such themes as dread, boredom, alienation, the absurd, freedom, commitment, and nothingness as fundamental to human existence.
When I do, interesting things always come up.
Image by anna_t via Flickr
I love RnB. I love doing the beats but it just isn’t the same without the singer. To me, RnB is all about the rhythm, the song and especially the singer. A great singer can take an ordinary song to a whole new place.
So whenever I do a beat, I always imagine the singer being there. I usually end up putting in a lead that sounds an awful a lot like a singer. I don’t do it on purpose, it usually just ends up that way.
I imagine Mary J. Blige in this one. Not just because she’s a great singer, but I love how you can hear so many emotions in her voice. This one’s for her.
It’s amazing how something can be so frustrating and stressful when you aren’t moving at all.
Rush hour has a beat all it’s own. It’s fast and irregular. Going up one second then going down the next. You’re moving but it still feels like you’re going nowhere.
Then, there seems to be some break and you’re finallly moving. It’s temporary though. You adjust the radio and once again you edge foreward. Slowly but surely, you move. Inching you’re way to freedom. You see you’re exit, one more little stumble and you’re off. The heavens open and you can see the light at the end of the freeway. You’re home.
