Ode to NEU!

NEU! NEU! NEU!

Why are they NEU! when they’re old?

Blue blue blue

Why are you blue when you’re cold?

Are you down with a frown

When you’re blue all around

Are you old and know NEU!

Or is it new to you?

I knew NUE! of old,

Knew I struck gold

I listened when listening

Was edgy and bold

And now I’m not new,

But NEU!’s new to you

The circle keeps circling

‘cause you like NEU! too!

First Post

There are two people who want to be together forever. So they ride the hands of a clock, joined in time but eternally separated by the space between them. Here's their conversation:

                                 I
Everything will be just the same as it was in the beginning.
I ride the second hand with you on the hour.
We  meet at six to call it quits,
And get back together at seven.

At four o'clock we change seats
And say goodbye until eleven.
And so I'll see your face again soon, then.
I'll see your face again soon.

                      III
We can dance on the cogs
And you can have the diamonds in the gears.
You won't ever really be able to wear them
But they'd look beautiful in your hair.

I have all the answers for you.
Just don't ask what come next.
We'll always be in beat
As perfect dancers on this circle.


                 VI.

Let's jump together someday?
But if we fall then time will break.
We won't be together forever.

I"m ready to make the leap
We'll count to three, when we get to three
We'll--

They miscalculate the jump and instead fall into the hole in the middle and get ground up in the clock's gears. All of time stops and the world falls apart. But the couple is finally together in bones and gristle and broken love.

October 2nd, October 9th

October 9 Lyrics:

leave me a little time to call my own
a minute or two free from the thought of you
Leave me a little dream to call my own
I don't need you; I'd rather sleep alone.

leave me a little piece of mind to call my own
just a little part- a little part of the whole
and if that's not enough—not enough for you
leave me a bit of my soul

Hey everybody! I'm hoping to update more regularly these days now that our recording studio is up and running. I hope everyone who's writing is having as much fun as I am.

For Danny, for Me.

When did it happen, my sweetie pea pie?

October winds kept blowing you by

Seventeen seasons not stopping to ask -

Relentlessly moving and turning to laugh.

You didn’t beat me, you self-absorbed Fall

Thought you had me? Ha! You’re small

You wouldn’t stop - you wouldn’t chat

to ask who I am and see where I’m at.

Now Winter’s here introducing herself

Giving me wisdom, showing me wealth

You’re not a thief when I’ve control of my mind

I’m happier now

I’ve wasted you, Time.

Boots

Black matte boots

Tall and lanky

Make me feel

Like spanky spanky

Silver buttons

Trail down the back

Align my stride

I’m makin’ my tracks

I’m walking, yeah,

I’m walking

Yeah I’m stalking

you

Birth of a Face

Wetness dripping down

firm smooth gray

making running lines

in clay

draped over

a mask.

Cold hard, plastic face-form

Hidden beneath

A rolled slab of earth

Where hands above

Move over it’s softness,

Drops of water create

Slip

that slips

beneath fingers stretching across

the plane

face

Counting on You

Seven is less than nine
and seven is more than three
but one is only one
and there's only one of me.

4 is less than eleven
but three is less than four
and three can be a seven
if you just add four more.

I am not a number
lie four or seven or three
but one thing that I know for sure
is me is less than we.

I am less than two
and that's why I need you.

I am less than two
but I'm counting on you.

Thank God I found some other girls

To go to the ladies room with me

‘cause I didn’t want to go alone.

And they’ve all pissed

and left me by myself.

Now I’m big city boring

Helplessly whoring

to Friday night choring-

and thinking I shouldn’t have gone

with everyone else

to the ladies room.

Sandwiches

Props to Nick Wilkinson for the (amazing) first contribution to the project.

In The Green, Green Forest

I know how to love the lilypads
In the green, green forest.
Now the leaves will fall away
Winter has come, now it's spring.
Spring is beautiful so much
I can get a dolphin suit.

by Julia

Today kicks off Songwriting Month! I've sent you all invites to be able to post to this blog, which I'm hoping serves as a source of ideas and excitement for everyone involved. No need to post anything, but if you've got something you're proud of, put it up!

If you're reading this and you haven't been invited but you would like to be, let me know.

OCTOBER: The Month of Songwriting

PREFACE

The Magnetic Fields' 69 Love Songs has hit my life like a thunderbolt. If you know it already, shame on you for not stopping everything and making me listening to it. If you don't, brace yourself. It's a sprawling, 3-disc set of 69 love songs written by one man, conceived as a quasi-Broadway review. They span an unbelievable number of genres, tones, attitudes, and emotions. It's alternatively sweet, angry, happy, and heartbreaking, and frequently hilarious. Listening through it once, at least in part, is probably essential to being a complete human, and will prepare you well for what I'm about to propose.

CONTEXT

Fall is coming—time for whiskey, sweaters, tragic love, the death of all things in a blaze of autumnal glory, etc. It's time to dust off Kid A and Kind of Blue, Pink Moon and From the Basement on the Hill—all our favorite records that only really keep in environments cooler than 70 degrees—and smoke cigarettes and indulge our heavier natures. Dissatisfaction becomes its own aesthetic. Happiness seems garish and overt. In short, ladies and gentlemen, it's songwriting season.

THE PROPOSAL

I'm in an ambitious mood, and I'm hoping you are too. I'll get right down to it: For the month of October, write one song a day. It doesn't have to be long, or serious, or really even be any good. It can have lyrics, or not—or it can be just lyrics without music. Break up with someone? Write a song. Stub your toe? Write a song. Drink a glass of water? Write a song. Run out of ideas? Write a song about it. All I ask is that you make some kind of effort, once a day, to conceive of a lyrical/musical idea and record it in some way, whether by writing or recording. I'm thinking about this more as a sketchbook than anything.

At the end of October, I'll collect everything and compile it. For local folks, we'll do a reading/performing of the highlights. For the rest of you, I'll figure out whatever makes the most sense based on what I get and make sure to get it to you somehow. If you follow through on the project, I'll take you out to dinner at the end of the month if you're around someplace fancy. If you're not, I'll mail you something nice. But more than anything, I'm hoping to get a really awesome record (in both the history-book and 12" LP sense) of your exceptionally talented/fucked-up/downright silly minds.

I realize you all have very busy lives, and I don't expect you to indulge me. I'm going to do it, though, and it would be awesome to share the experience. Collaboration is also wholeheartedly encouraged, so if it seems like too much, teaming up could be cool too.

IN CONCLUSION

Please pass this along to anyone else you think would enjoy the project. Let me know if you're interested.

PEACE/LOVE/GEORGETOUMAYAN,

Joe