Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

my music

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Blogging is not a daily column. I don’t even have to post everyday, as one of my readers just reminded me as i lamented my headache-induced writer’s block. I don’t have to post every day because i’m only posting for me… i’m putting up the effort, and the editing, and the $30 a month that keeps my website functional as my bank account gets inexorably smaller and smaller.

Are you starting to see where those other posts were headed? I am tired… tired of having to learn all of the foundations that lay beneath the successful artifice of art, and having to be responsible for them all on my own. I am tired of spending endless hours programming my site and weeks in the studio just for a paltry 100 copies of my demo and a thousand readers a week. I am tired just at the thought of having to create a new layout or having to mix down another demo. I don’t want to do it. I just want to play, and to write, and to have an amount of attention paid to me that has some relation to the effort that i put into my work and the quality that emerges. Even double the readers, or five times the listeners, probably wouldn’t be enough for me … because even after my in front of the scenes work is paid adequate attention i’m still stuck behind the scenes like the Wizard behind the damned curtain, sweating away as he produces such a spectacular show.


I don’t think this means anything… i’m obviously not quitting or going away. I’m just so tired… tired of having to spend a year on music courses so i could have a key to the studio that i hate, and tired of earning A’s in programming just so i can properly sort out the PHP i program the site with. Tired of having to beg to be a mere assistant stage manager when we all know i’d rather be in front of any curtain, anywhere. I just… i don’t know how i’m supposed to be heard at all, otherwise. Maybe you could call it paying my dues, or maybe it’s just my own particular burden (and not such a bad one, at that), but the charm is wearing off … what was once exciting is now my dread of quarter inch to eighth inch cable adapters, and my absolute dread of photoshop, and my remorse over spending half of my education learning how to make what i want to do work, instead of doing what i want to do.

Conclusion? Who knows… either one step closer to sending out demos, or one closer to subway busking. Two steps forward, two steps back, same old me.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8396050/

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I’m going somewhere. I am.

I am nothing but frustrated thinking about my 2002 demo. I am a faithful student of the Ani DiFranco school when it comes to songwriting, and that means that when i have enough songs to track an album i have to start actually tracking the album. Of course, for me (and Ani), this tends to result in having a surplus of songs once i get to recording them, but that just makes the selection on the record stronger.


I am not frustrated because i’m going to have to leave songs that i like off of the album, though. I am frustrated by the thought of recording. I do not want to go through a repeat of last year… locking myself sweating and cursing into the studio for an entire week of claustrophobia and flubbed starts and sweating and hunger. It isn’t fun. The whole act of keeping my wires straight and making sure i have all my volume knobs right and setting up the compressor totally drains me, and all i am left with is the urge to get down some solo performances as fast as i can. It doesn’t make me want to play any more music than i have to play.

Having developed a downright fear of the studio (which i (lamentably) have to enter eventually if i ever want to hear the single i recorded this summer), i am suddenly interested in making other plans. Plan A is to set up my home computer with a new sound card and buy a microphone and just do the whole thing in my room; i could work on it at any hour, and make endless edits and and overdubs. I like the idea… it seems like the way that excellent playful records are made, and i’m sure i would wind up with much stronger material if i got the chance to take more than a handful of shots at each song.

On the other hand, i don’t even want to worry that much… i want to just give up my power and send out some three song demos to record labels both small and large and wind up signed with a producer who can worry about what tone the bass need to complement the acoustic guitar and what side it should be mixed to. Of course, that goes against everything … against my possessiveness of my songs and against all of the independent music i listen to. However, there comes a point where i am tired of trying to be heard all on my own, and i just want someone to be able to listen to me… and sometimes the easiest road to that isn’t sitting in my room recording Trios.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8395796/

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As for resolution… in seventh grade i resolved to be attractive. I was going to pay more attention to what i was wearing and how i brushed my hair, and i was going to make an effort to talk to the girls i liked. I could make it happen. I resolved to make it happen.

Six years later i had my first kiss.

You can’t really resolve to do anything except for those things so explicitly under your own power that you could and should be doing them anyway. I would resolve to see my friends more, or to cook more, or to be more organized … except all three of those things got under way well before the drop of the ball because i realized how easy it would be for me to do them. Other resolutions are less finite… losing weight, seeking out a meaningful relationship, or getting straight A’s. I’d love to do any or all of those things, but they’re circumstantial — i can try my darndest to accomplish them with nary a result if the fates don’t intend it to happen.

So, what am i resolving to do, you might wonder? The only thing i can responsibly resolve to: resolving. I can’t promise myself to make anything happen that isn’t directly within my own power, and i’ve already began to work on things about myself that i’d like to change, so all that is left is to make an attempt to be at peace with all of those nasty circumstances i brought up in my last post so that i can face the new year fresh and ready for anything.

I’ll be sure to let you know how it turns out…

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8337271/

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The trend in weblogs for ringing in the New Year seems to be a dead split between resolutions that might not be upheld and a litany of excellent things about 2001 that never came to light through the actual process of blogging. So, in the spirit of my general disagreeance and spitefulness this past weekend, here are the reasons why my year sucked (in roughly chronological order):

  • My grandmother dies; i proceed to get so sick that i miss the funeral (never to be forgiven by family). (!)

  • I have to drop a class for the first time. (!)

  • The weekend of my dress rehearsals for Good Woman of Setzuan i am diagnosed with Pneumonia and Bronchitis. I have to argue not to be admitted to the hospital so i can start going to rehearsals again. Upon my return I forget an entire verse of my big song on opening night (at this point being generally attributed to my medication, which i will neither confirm nor deny). (!)

  • My first girlfriend wound up being somewhat of a psycho/bitch; horrible breakup ensues. (!)

  • I managed not to fail anything despite all of the above circumstances, but garner my first C (in Recording Class) (!)

  • I have no spring vacation; i immediately started work at Admissions after classes ended. (!)

  • I am totally miserable in my apartment; i don’t speak much to my roommate. (!)

  • I miserably quit blogging for an entire week when my archives disappear. (!)

  • I do not leave the city once during the entire summer. (!)

  • I spend the majority of the summer wondering where i’ll be living in September. (!)

  • I sign up to attend the Philadelphia Folk Fest and then have to back out because of work and moving into my new apartment. (!)

  • I step in to give the counselor-of-the-day presentation one Tuesday in September, because the counselor in question was to horror-stricken to speak. (!)

  • I enter a rather depressive haze and let details about it slip to my mother, who becomes physically ill at the thought of my mental instability. (!)

  • I am admitted to the hospital for four days only to be told absolutely nothing is wrong with me. (!)

  • I endlessly deliberate over a first date with someone who lives across the country from me and who i like very much — only to be romantically rebuffed. (!)

  • I spend the entire last weekend of the year in the most dire of blah moods. (!)


    • So, that’s my year. At a glance, 2001 looks as though it might have been my worst year ever pound for pound. However, lest we all despair for my miserable year, click the end of each phrase for the happy ending that i might not have hinted at while blogging. And, in case i haven’t mentioned it, Happy New Year.

    https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8335446/