Songs have been absolutely blindsiding me lately, and it’s exciting and frustrating all at once. Suddenly i don’t seem to be writing about myself anymore, but those oft-invoked nearly-fictional characters that all songwriters have wandering around in their head. It’s exciting because i seem to have suddenly inherited the mystical powers of an actual writer, but it’s altogether frustrating because i can’t seem to write about what i’m feeling. I wrote “So Hard” based on a single line i had written in a blank IM window, and it seemed as though it would be a throw-away lark until i found myself playing it every time i picked up my guitar. Similarly, last week i began to write “Seams” simply about how the cold makes my walk home seem twice as long, but it transformed into a lament that was entirely indicative of my feelings while being about someone not quite myself.
So, tonight when Andy quipped via IM that he had intentions on writing a song with the line
“You have no proof I said I love you” in it for his non-existent grad-student band i should have known not to joke about writing it. Cause, well, what started out as idly typing a handful of phrases into an empty window wound up writing a whole damn song… all the fault of the following few lines: “Another envelope taped closed. Sharpie marker employed to print out my address. The shredded letter inside leaves your message fairly clear: Return to sender, i guess.”
Actually, Andy had intentions of “You have no proof I said I love you” being the title of his song and, while i’m not sure if it is anymore, we’ve definitely wound up with a song about torn up letters, battered old shoeboxes, accidental hand jobs in the back seats of sedans, and a vitriolic serenade from a suburban front lawn. And, well, since i generally seem to avoid titles longer than four words, let’s just call it “proof” for now, okay? Audio forthcoming, as soon as it stops being 1am :p