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Friday night, January 14th
I'm at my manager's place in New York. Scott and Throck are on their way and Rob James flies in tomorrow for two days of rehearsals with my producer, Kevin Salem. At this point, the next record is just a song list and a bunch of lyrics I get to fret over and tinker with for the next few weeks. I feel certain there's something there, though -- a statue waiting to be dug out of the giant hunk of rock.
I've decided to write as we progress. To keep a record of the record, as it were.
I like to have a sense of what a particular batch of songs is about and at this early juncture I'd say these ones are about people at crossroads: one stands on an empty western highway at daybreak with a new life just beginning; one stumbles through a surreal New York City odyssey only to find his soul unexpectedly stirring by the black Hudson River one Sunday evening; one struggles to forgive the lover who has broken her generous heart; one clings to his resentment like it's the only medicine he can find (actually 2 might be doing that); one works up the courage to give voice to the sweet crush that feels like love, one breaks the shackles of his prison-like existence and finds love out in the dark American night, one desperately awaits the return of a woman from long ago. You get the idea. It's cool writing this paragraph and realizing this may really be a well-matched group of seekers and strugglers. And, of course, there are a few flagrantly autobiographical songs. There's always room for some honest revelation, eh?
All right. It's 11:26 and my fine rhythm section should be hitting the city within the hour. Where will we all sleep? |
