Despite all the time I spend every day listening to music, I’m musically illiterate. I am like someone who loves to hear stories, kind of wants to write their own, but can neither read nor write. And I probably don’t have the room in my brain for that much new knowledge anymore. I mean I can sing at least. I usually only sing alone in my room, but I’ve had some positive feedback on my karaoke skills.
I was in band class throughout Middle School and Freshman year of High School, during which I played the clarinet, but I was never good at it. My teacher knew it, and chastised me for every note I got wrong, humiliating me in front of the whole class. My classmates would then continue to mock and chastise me outside of class. I was too slow of a learner, I could never quite wrap my head around how to get the correct notes out of my clarinet at the right time. The rest of the class ended up advancing and I never did past a certain point. Probably because I had undiagnosed autism, making my teacher a subconscious ableist. I only stayed with it because my dad wanted me to, and for some reason I sought his approval at the price of being traumatized and having my self esteem destroyed by this awful teacher. Once a Creative Writing class opened up at my High School during my sophomore year I dropped band class for good and pursued that as far as I could pursue it, getting a Masters Degree in Creative Writing that I regret getting now, but hey it’s an achievement I guess. Anyway, that is why I never pursued music sooner. I was discouraged by an evil teacher. But I’ve been healing a lot in recent years, and trying to become more true to myself.
Maybe if I had the money and the time to learn to play I could do something with some synths or a bass guitar, or even just an acoustic guitar. I do come up with melodies in my brain, but I don’t write them down. I’ve written poetry numerous times though and I’ve even won some contests. I write my poems like song lyrics, because that’s my main influence. I don’t read a lot of poetry books (although I do love the occasional poem by Edgar Allan Poe, Sayat Nova, Bedros Tourian and Vahan Teryan, the latter three some legendary Armenian poets), but I read and listen to song lyrics all the time, every day. So I’ve tried my hand at writing actual songs twice so far, most recently today, but the last time I did it, I was working at the Macy’s call center in 2018 and living through my own personal hell. Today I just got bit by the poetry bug again I guess. Happens once in a while, then I go back to writing prose and comics like I normally do. But it’s been a while since I expressed myself like that.
If I were to make music, it would probably be a solo act. I don’t think I could find bandmates who would put up with me, and I wouldn’t expect to turn any kind of profit with my music, which they probably wouldn’t like. I would take the name Surenity, a play on my first name. If I go the synth route, I would make coldwave music. I like post-punk too but I would need the help of bandmates to really do post-punk with drums and a bass guitar. My influences would be Slow Danse with the Dead, Forever Grey, This Cold Night, and others like them, as well as the Armenian bands The Deenjes and Jrimurmur. The Deenjes and Jrimurmur have both taken traditional Armenian songs and modernized them, made them goth. That’s one thing I would do, I would write my own lyrics for some songs, but I would also take Armenian poems that are public domain and make them into coldwave songs.
Alternatively, I could also go the acoustic rock route, and take influence from the live MTV Unplugged sets of Alice in Chains and Nirvana, as well as Kurt Cobain’s acoustic demo tapes, but with a goth flair. I would still sing in an low, brooding voice. There’s something to be said for raw, homemade music. That’s why I like listening to old demo tapes from bands I’m familiar with. I could become something like the YouTubers Leiv Reed and Alicia Widar, who mainly do acoustic covers with a few original songs. They have a very small but dedicated fanbase. If it’s just me sitting in my bedroom playing in front of a webcam, I’m okay with that. I don’t really want to be a rock star or anything. Fame is a vapor, the only earthly certainty is oblivion.
Alas, I’m too poor to afford instruments, and I don’t even know how I would learn to play them. This is all probably just another dream that may never come to fruition. Like how I wanted to be a DJ. Or a best-selling author. I mean, never say never and all that, I hopefully have several decades left in me, but, I dunno. If my music never gets any further than this blog, then so be it. Another scream into the abyss. Just use your imagination.
This first song, the one I wrote today, is about my chronic back pain, and how limiting it is to me, and how taxing it is on my mental health as well as my self image. It’s also about coming to terms with getting older. It probably sounds super depressing, but I’m just venting. It’s thoughts that go through my mind sometimes, not constantly. Imagine dark synths, electronic beats with echoing reverb, a low strumming bass guitar, and slow, droning baritone vocals.
Crippled Man
I don’t move anymore because of you.
A broken mind and body askew.
Creeping clawing up my spine
While I put on my mask and pretend I’m fine.
The world pulls down on me.
Crushed by its gravity.
It’s an awful reality.
People ruled by fear and greed.
Born into a hostile plane
How long have I been insane?
Crippled man
Man in black
Crippled man
Can’t go back.
(Music solo)
I can’t stand up. I can’t sit down.
I only feel peace when I’m alone.
Fighting the chaos in my mind
As a sledgehammer hits my spine.
Crippled man
Man in black
Crippled man
Can’t go back.
The world pulls down on me.
Crushed by its gravity.
It’s an awful reality.
People ruled by fear and greed.
Born into a hostile plane
How long have I been insane?
Crippled man
Man in black
Crippled man
Can’t go back.
(Bridge, instrumental section for about 30 seconds)
A soul trapped in a rotting shell
It’s tragic to think how far I fell.
Try to sleep the pain away
Only to face another day.
Crippled man
Man in black
Crippled man
Can’t go back.
Crippled man
Man in black
Crippled man
Can’t go back.
(Fade out)
No comments:
Post a Comment