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Oct. 9th, 2005 12:08 pmFor my next trick, I am considering auditioning to be the keyboard player for a local production of Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I know Hedwig is no Rolling Stones or Led Zeppelin, but the roots of that show's music still extend deeper into the blues than any of my previous musical ventures. Consequently, this month I'm spending time brushing up on my improvisation skills in the blues scales, preparing to audition for a rock n' roll show.
Something just ain't right. I'm growing comfortable with the technical aspects of the blues, but something is missing. While I have played in a gothic rock band, that isn't enough. Goths are only pretending to be sad without a true sense of genuine loss. I need to up the ante. So, I said to my wife, "Babe, you gotta leave me. I'm trying to learn the blues and I can't do it. You gotta leave me. Take the dog, too. And make sure he piddles in my shoes on the way out the door." But she won't do it. She says she loves me. But baby! I'm too happy! I considered beating her, but I think that would only improve my industrial music skills. She's gotta go at the height of my love for her. But she's staying and she's even washed the dishes a few times over the past week.
Maybe I can look back on hardtimes in my past. I was a country music singer, once upon a time. My fame was cut short when the industry put me on the black list. I had my first big show at the Grand Ole Opry and figured I better make a bigger splash than Johnny Cash. So, instead of kicking out the foot-lights on the stage, I toured with Stevie Starr. While I performed, Stevie unscrewed all the foot-lights and swallowed them whole, before moving on to eating all the big fluffy hair-dos of the ladies in the front row. By the end of the show Stevie had regurgitate the light-bulbs with the hair inside, but my career as a country singer was over. Hard times. Here, some lyrics from that time:
Well my truck left me
and my dog's been cheatin' on me...
with another woman
my wife she's got a flat tire
but I...
I've still got my cow...
Oh *sob* I can't go on. It hurts too much. You know, I think I've got the blues now. I better go get back to the piano and practice those scales before my wife does something nice for me again.
Something just ain't right. I'm growing comfortable with the technical aspects of the blues, but something is missing. While I have played in a gothic rock band, that isn't enough. Goths are only pretending to be sad without a true sense of genuine loss. I need to up the ante. So, I said to my wife, "Babe, you gotta leave me. I'm trying to learn the blues and I can't do it. You gotta leave me. Take the dog, too. And make sure he piddles in my shoes on the way out the door." But she won't do it. She says she loves me. But baby! I'm too happy! I considered beating her, but I think that would only improve my industrial music skills. She's gotta go at the height of my love for her. But she's staying and she's even washed the dishes a few times over the past week.
Maybe I can look back on hardtimes in my past. I was a country music singer, once upon a time. My fame was cut short when the industry put me on the black list. I had my first big show at the Grand Ole Opry and figured I better make a bigger splash than Johnny Cash. So, instead of kicking out the foot-lights on the stage, I toured with Stevie Starr. While I performed, Stevie unscrewed all the foot-lights and swallowed them whole, before moving on to eating all the big fluffy hair-dos of the ladies in the front row. By the end of the show Stevie had regurgitate the light-bulbs with the hair inside, but my career as a country singer was over. Hard times. Here, some lyrics from that time:
Well my truck left me
and my dog's been cheatin' on me...
with another woman
my wife she's got a flat tire
but I...
I've still got my cow...
Oh *sob* I can't go on. It hurts too much. You know, I think I've got the blues now. I better go get back to the piano and practice those scales before my wife does something nice for me again.
