There’s an art to it

One of my coworkers, a friend, actually, has been on an epic year-long journey to launch a new, company wide system. This is huge stuff…stressful, hours of work, and it went live yesterday.

That meant he had to stay at work very, very late last night to see this thing through with all the IT folks. A long night.

Being the kind, supportive coworker that I am, on my way out the door at 5:00, I stopped by and said, “Hey, *you* have fun tonight! Me? In about a half an hour I’m going to be drinking Sangria over a really good dinner.”

My coworker looked up from his computer, and, peering over his glasses said, succinctly, “up yours,” then turned back to work.

You know, you don’t really hear a good “up yours” anymore these days.

In those two words, he told me off, steered clear of HR violations, and conveyed months of exhaustion.

Well done!

I think people have lost the talent of telling someone off. You get too many rambling diatribes (“you know what you are? You are a bunch of……”), too much eff word use (“effing muther effer eff eff eff”), too many attempts to make it into a deep insult (“yo mamma!”)….it’s all just unoriginal work.

I feel like the tell off is a lost art.

A clean, simple, well spoken “up yours!” conveys quite a bit.

As with many things, simplicity is elegant.

Lyrical Philsophy

Several years ago, I used to date a musician. We’ll call those “the dark years.” He was the real deal, taught himself to play, had the “gift,” was making a living (such that it was) playing music.

We would often have debates. He was a true music guy. I, on the other hand, am a fan of words.

He often told me that it was the music that mattered. The words were just something that floated on top. It didn’t matter if they were there.

Obviously, this ticked me off.

Over time, I learned to appreciate more of the nuances to music. How a driving drumbeat could make an otherwise dull song into a moving tune. How one hamfisted musician could ruin a whole piece. How the sounds tell a story that the musician weaves together.

He never, however, learned to appreciate the words.

I used to say that even the cheesiest song in the world could offer up some value, some deeply meaningful bit of emotion or philosophy or declaration. I even gave examples. He would reluctantly agree that the words I’d quoted had meaning, but not in the context of a song.

I got to thinking about this again today while listening to my iPod. Thinking about how seemingly throwaway songs can actually yield something meaningful tucked away in the lyrics.

The song that got me going was The Spinners classic “Working My Way Back to You” (originally a Frankie Valli song).

The lyric that “gets me” is this:

“I used to love to make you cry/It made me feel like a man inside/
But if I’d been a man in reality/You’d still be here, baby, lovin me”

No doubt The Spinners knew how to lay down an amazing groove, but this pop-y hit song speaks of redemption. The guy had a great girl, he “ran around like I was free”, then was *shocked* when she got self-respect and left him. He realized he’d blown it BIG time.

Those words, that lyric I quoted, is a really great turn of phrase. It shows a depth of self-awareness rarely seen in top 40 hits.

Those words, to me, make the song. I listen to the funky beat line, but I *wait* for those lyrics. They make me feel something.

I’ve got plenty more examples. Watch me work!

Here we go, the most bubblegum of pop tunes, Britney Spears’, “Baby One More Time.” Not the most musically interesting song, but well produced.

Don’t think about the song, the bouncy music, just read:

“My loneliness is killing me/And I must confess/I still believe/
When I’m not with you lose my mind”

Once again, a song of “didn’t know what I got until it was gone.” Earlier the song talks about “I shouldn’t have let you go” and now the narrator is alone and missing the one they took for granted.

In reading the words, I can feel the regret. Who among us hasn’t left someone behind only to find themselves all alone and losing their mind a little bit about “what might have been?”

See what I’m saying? The words have meaning!

Ok, I went to Billboard’s Top 100. Number one song right now is “Boom Boom Pow” by the Black Eyed Peas.

Pfew…this one might be tough. Not all songs have a redeeming lyric, but most do. Let me think on this….

To be fair, this song IS a lot about the sounds. About the tones that Will.i.am can put together so well.

But there is a message there…go with me on this.

“I like that boom boom pow/Them chickens jackin’ my style/They try copy my swagger/I’m on that next shit now”

Sure, it’s a brag, but it’s also true. Since the success of the Black Eyed Peas, there are a TON of imposters trying to work Will.i.am’s style. He’s reminding us that while people are mimicking the last thing he did, he’s onto the next thing. He’s a trendsetter, not a follower. He’s ahead of the curve and a not so subtle reminder to people to remember the original.

It makes me feel like he’s frustrated trying to be an original while everyone falls in behind trying to take what he made. As an artist, I completely get that.

Whew, ok, that one was tough. But I got there.

I could go on with examples all day. I guess that music matters to me so much, but everyone enjoys music for different reasons. I think that anyone who can write lyrics is, in their own way, a poet and a philosopher. The meaning shouldn’t be discounted just because a song is viewed as too pop or too cheesy or too whatever.

I think both the words and the music matter, but as a writer, I can zoom in on a well-turned bit of phrase and feel like I’m in the flow.

When an artist can make someone feel, feel something, anything, whatever emotion, then I believe they have succeeded.

The very heart of creating.

I rest my case.

Seriously old school

Technologically speaking, I seem to be regressing.

Been using my high end Canon camera with all the whizz bang features and fancy lenses for a while.

And then I go and buy some cheapie plastic cameras and start having fun with 35mm film again.

This weekend I went one step farther back to luddite-ville. I went to Cyanotype. Known to the real world as Sunlight Prints.

Billed as a toy for kids, I’m having a heck of a lot of fun. I bought a kit off a sale table at Barnes & Noble a while back and used up (and ruined most of) the paper. Then I bought a paper refill at a toy store and kept trying. My technique is improving.

The whole thing is a chemical process kicked off by ultraviolet light from the sun.

So you get this light blue piece of paper with the right stuff chemical on it, compose your arrangement of items (in the shade), expose to the sun, then rinse it off with water and voila!

This is the same stuff that original blueprints were made from.

I guess Cyanotype isn’t so out of style, though, because in one of the buildings where I work, they have a huge art installation of sunlight prints on slabs of wood showing a variety of ferns. It’s gorgeous! Maybe I should peddle my prints for a buck to the powers that be at work, eh? *grin*

Anyhow, here I am, rocking it 1842 style! With a little help from a blooming rose bush in my front yard and a sunny April Saturday afternoon.

(These scans don’t do the Prussian blue any sort of justice. Also, where you see a double image, that’s because the wind was blowing my compositions around….)

My low tech love

If you’ve been dropping by my little corner of the interwebs for a while, then you know I’m kind of into photography.

Not gonna lie and say I’m a good photographer. I have a pretty decent eye and pretty poor technical skills, but I’m learning.

My whole life, though, I’ve always loved junky cameras. Cheapo fun cams that take fun photos.

I have owned, at one time or another, pretty much everything that Polaroid has done. In fact, I believe the first camera I ever owned was an instamatic, a Christmas present, and I *loved* it.

I’ve owned the iZone (two of them, actually) that made tiny photos, the Joy Cam that made medium sized photos and everything in between.

I also love disposables. If I attend a wedding, I’ll totally find a way to grab the disposables off the table and take weird photos for the bride and groom. My special present, I guess.

But then…a couple years ago, I invested in real camera equipment and lenses. Been having a blast with them, too.

Earlier this week, while perusing the “recommended for you” section on Amazon, I became introduced to the next generation of fun cameras.

Lomography is what they call the photos taken with cameras made by Lomographische AG, an Austrian company.

These little beauties aren’t new…the cheapie cameras have been around a long time, I’m just finally climbing on board.

These are cheaply made and intentionally so. They have light leaks and other issues which gives each camera its own individual imprint. They are frightfully old fashioned, taking 35mm film and a working knowledge of how to load and use a camera.

And I *love* these cameras. I got three different kinds, but have only really gotten the chance to experiment with the one they call the “Action Sampler“.

This guy has four different lenses that fire in succession giving four images on one frame of film. All done mechanically, no electronics on the camera, not even a flash.

So. Much. Fun.

Here are a few samples so you get an idea what I’m up to:

Na Na Na Na, Hey, Hey, Hey…

Goodbye.

Ok, not goodbye, but welcome to bankruptcy.

From CNN:

Muzak files for bankruptcy

This story is a couple weeks old, so I don’t know how I missed it.

Ah Muzak. That bastion of elevators and department stores everywhere. Making the artistically fascinating into dreck.

Sure, bastardizing Beatles and Creedence Clearwater tunes is bad, but the first time I heard “Smells Like Teen Spirit” done up Muzac style, I was not only appalled, I was angry.

I fear they will crawl out of debt restructuring like the oily swamp monster that they are, reaching out a webbed hand to assimilate Flo Rida and Beyonce and Lady Ga Ga and all the other Top 40 pop crap, coming soon to a Seven Eleven near you.

Once upon a time, in my former job, I had the opportunity to interact with the beast that is Muzac. They were entrenched as the on-hold music for our busy call center. The telecom team found a supplier they liked better and asked me to pull the ripcord on the termination clause in the contract.

Is it wrong that I giggled the whole time the pages fed through the fax auto-feeder? I stood there giggling like Beavis and Butt Head for the whole time the machine made high pitch squeals, and gladly took the confirmation page from the paper tray, confirmed all pages were sent, and filed that bad boy with satisfaction.

One of those “I love my job” kinda days.

If that kind of glee is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.

Ah well, even oily swamp monsters have to make a living.