Remember the movie from a few years back starring Matt Damon? And all of those potatoes.
The movie was based on the book of the same name by Andy Weir. Here’s how it happened.
Andy Weir started writing his story and published it, serial style, on his website.
Then he self-published the complete novel.
Then a publisher purchased the rights and re-released it.
Then they made a movie.
And Andy Weir is rich and famous.
With no illusions of my story having the same outcome, I am nonetheless going to attempt to publish my story, Song of the Lost, serial style, on this site. You should see a tab at the top of the page named Song of the Lost. Everyday I’ll post a new chapter at the top of the page. Then when I post the next chapter, I’ll drop the previous chapter to the bottom of the page. Newcomers can read the chapters in order. Those who follow daily can see the new chapter at the top. That’s the plan, anyway. We’ll see how it works.
And please provide feedback with your virtual red pen. Tell me about typos, grammatical errors, plot holes, or anything that you don’t like. And feel free to tell me if something is working for you. So here we go.
Don’t know if you’re aware, but Amazon now has an option for posting a story in serial form. It’s called Vella. My friend James Townsend, who is also and outstanding singer-songwriter, is posting his historical fiction about Billy the Kid. Check it out.
One of the nonsensical (at least for me) Beatles songs that I added to my set list after watching “Let It Be.”
I subscribed to Disney+ just to watch it. I loved almost every minute of it.
Much has been written about it. Here’s an excerpt from an article written by Jill Lawrence for USA Today, speaking specifically about the concert on the roof.
“That mini concert, and this maxi documentary, underscore for all time the truth and universality of advice I’ve had posted on my bulletin board for years, from the late New York Times media critic David Carr: “Keep typing until it turns into writing.” For the Beatles, that translates into keep playing and singing until it turns into music. For politicians, keep negotiating until it turns into a deal. For scientists, keep experimenting until you get a vaccine. For my husband last week, it was keep trying until that box of boards, screws and what-not turns into an ottoman.”
And the next week. And the next week. And again last night.
The photo is from last week, taken by James Townsend, an amazing singer and musician who graciously shares his stage time with rank amateurs like me. He even let me play his beautiful Taylor guitar.
Now make no mistake, I’m no James Townsend, but as I get more comfortable, my playing and singing edge toward acceptable. I hope I can keep improving because it really is a lot of fun. I’m working on this one by Glen Hansard, Falling Slowly. And check out his guitar. Maybe I don’t need a new one after all.
But the song that puts me in my comfort zone is the Leonard Cohen number, Dance Me to the End of Love. Then James does the best version of Hallelujah I’ve ever heard to end the evening. We call it the Cohen Close.
Whatever it is you’ve always wanted to do, figure it out and do it. You won’t regret it.
It’s just an E chord. Pretty basic. But I had figured out some embellishments to get the sound of the opening riff of Mrs. Robinson, the Simon and Garfunkle classic from the 60s movie of the same name. It’s a fun song to play. A catchy chorus that people of a certain age will hum and tap their toes to. So that was going to be my first song. My first song ever singing in public by myself.
Just me and my guitar.
That was last week at the local coffee shop.
I plugged in the guitar and tested the mic. A few soft chords to check my tuning and steady my nerves. And then I was off.
The opening riff was good. The intro was good. I got to the chorus, which in this song occurs before the first verse, and sang as I had practiced so many times at home. I was rocking, baby.
But somewhere along the way I missed a chord. Then I forgot a line. But I kept going. It was a little rough but I got through.
The baristas and two of my friends who were there applauded. There weren’t many other people in the coffee shop and most continued to fiddle on their phones or laptops. But it’s a coffee shop and their inattentiveness is to be expected in that kind of venue.
I moved on to the next song. Another upbeat tune, Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats, I Need Never Get Old. And a chorus with some high notes that requires some projection. I had practiced and was comfortable with those notes. But that night, I didn’t hit them as solidly as I do when I’m at home by myself. But again, I got through.
And then, believe it or not, I sang some Elvis. A Little Less Conversation. If you know the song (or look it up) you know that it’s yet another upbeat song. But I play it slow and easy at first. Kind of cool and moody. Then when I get to the bridge, I turn up the tempo and the volume and end with energy and enthusiasm. That seemed to go over well, in spite of a few less than smooth chord transitions.
But to be honest, those first three songs felt like a wreck.
I took a break and let my friend, Rich, take his shot. He’s new at this, too. He did about like I did but he’s got a good country-style voice, so you could see the promise, despite the fact that he had a little trouble with his three songs.
My turn again.
I slowed it down. Bob Dylan, Not Dark Yet. Got through without any major problems, though my vocals were not as strong as they should be. Then Amos Lee, What’s Been Going On. Again, ok, but not my best. And finally, Foo Fighters – yes, the Foo Fighters – Times Like These, the acoustic version. And again, this song requires some projection to reach the high notes. And again, I didn’t quite nail it.
Rich gave it another shot and absolutely killed the last two songs he did.
And that was it.
I left feeling pretty bad about the whole thing.
A couple of people recorded my first song and put a clip on Facebook. After hearing how I slogged through Mrs. Robinson, I knew that this had been a huge mistake. I vowed never to do it again. And not just Mrs. Robinson, but I vowed never to sing in public again. I even decided I couldn’t show my face in the coffee shop.
I found out later that Rich had felt the same way.
A few days passed and I discovered Leonard Cohen singing Dance Me to the End of Love. An old guy like me, singing within himself. Not trying to do too much. I began learning to play it.
A week later, I was ready to try again.
This time I chose songs more suitable for me and my limitations. Me and Bobby McGee was first. Bob Dylan, Most of the Time. Amos Lee, What’s Been Going On? I mangled some chords and lyrics but it didn’t feel as bad as the week before. Then Rich did three or four songs and he didn’t miss a lick.
Then my turn again. Bob Dylan, Not Dark Yet. Then the Leonard Cohen song. I missed some lyrics and some chord changes, but overall, the song is too good to do too much damage.
By the time we finished, there was one customer. She applauded politely at the end of every song. Even thanked us for the entertainment.
But here are some truths.
Rich is good because he has a natural singing voice. The more he plays the better he will get.
Joe does not have a natural singing voice, as the video evidence attests. It was fun and I’m glad I did it and I might even give the Leonard Cohen song another shot. But I’m probably done. Yes, cooked like a turkey.
But I’m now in the club of live performers. I did it. I can mark it off the list.
As my good friend Clint Eastwood once told me, a man’s got to know his limitations. But a man also has to have the courage to try.