Ding Dong Sing-Alongs

1. Da Da
2. Why I Still Don’t Have My License
3. I’m Short
4. Your New Boyfriend
5. Captain Tug-a-Lug
6. I Like You
7. Ding Dong Sing-Along

Ding Dong Sing-Alongs is a children’s album that I made to buy me time to write more songs for my next full length, Songs I’d Like To Sing Into Your Open Mouth. None of the songs on this album have ever been released in any other form. Some of them have sort of become staples at my live shows, particularly Captain Tug-A-Lug, a song I wrote about my (now deceased) baby puffer fish.

Please download it. Please share it. Please distribute it. Please memorize all of the words and request the songs at my next show. Thanks!

DOWNLOAD: DingDongSing-Alongs.zip

Brandy

1994

It’s 4 am, and the Pink Panther is on TV. I’m 6 years old, and I shouldn’t be awake this early. It’s still dark outside, but my dad’s in the bathroom shaving, and the way he taps his razor against the porcelain sink is somehow comforting to me.

My brother’s awake, and wrapped in a blanket on the couch where my dad had slept. We watch the same line-up every morning; Johnny Quest, Pink Panther, The Flintstones. Most kids our age won’t be awake for another 4 or 5 hours. But we have to be, because at 5, we’re getting dropped off at my grandma’s house. My dad has to be to work, and we have no idea where my mom is.

I put my jeans in the oven, because it’s cold this early in the morning. I leave the oven door open, and turn around in front of it, so it will warm my whole body. It’s a routine I practice every morning. I don’t know whose idea it was to use the oven, though.

Just before 5 am, my dad goes out in the driveway and starts his car. He turns the heater on, shuts the door, and comes back in the house to let us know it’s time to go. My brother brings a blanket and climbs into the back seat. I push the front seat back, and sit down. My dad tells me to watch my feet, and shuts my door. He climbs in the driver’s seat, and turns the fan on to start filling the car with hot air.

It’s still dark outside, and while we drive to my grandma’s house the moisture outside is making the windshield wet, so my dad turns on his windshield wipers. It’s only a 5 minute ride to her house, and when we pull up in front of it, she comes out onto her front porch and opens the gate for us. She looks tired, and my dad talks to her for a while, while me and my brother lay down on the couches. He says bye, and we hug him before he leaves.

My grandma goes into the kitchen and asks us if we want something for breakfast. My brother’s already asleep, so I sit at the kitchen table and she pours me a bowl of cereal. Old people cereal. My brother always says he thinks it has rocks and snail shells in it, along with the dried cranberries and bran flakes. My grandma sits down at the table, and starts shuffling her cards. Her favorite radio talk show is coming out of the speakers of the stereo. She sets up the cards for solitaire, and I watch out the window as the sun starts to come up really slowly.

Her tablecloth is flowery, and the shapes remind me of her and my grandpa for some reason. There’s a red miniature grandfather clock with a real ticking pendulum in the center of the table, and to be random, my grandpa has super-glued a small toy rat on top of it. The pendulum keeps stopping, so I reach out and push it back into swing when it does.

I finish the bowl of cereal, and go to the sink to rinse it out. I ask my grandma if I can watch TV,  and she nods; she gets really focused once she puts on her glasses to play solitaire. I go into the living room and turn on the huge TV that my grandpa spent a couple thousand dollars on. It’s only 6 in the morning, so every show on is a kid’s show or morning news. I put it on Nickelodeon (which, at 6 am, is actually Nick Jr.) and watch Eureka’s Castle. Kind of a girly show, but I’m 6 years old.

I lay down on the soft, orange couch and before I know it, I’m asleep…

Schema

My Creative Cycle

I’ve been meaning to sketch this out for a while, and finally took the time to do it. This is a visual representation of the steps my brain goes through when I’m writing music. I’ve given each of the sections titles that somewhat sum up what goes on in my head. If you’re a songwriter (or any type of writer), hopefully you can identify with this cycle.

INSPIRATION
It all starts with a spark. Whether it’s a book, an album, a song or just an idea that pops into my head, something gets me out of my creative slump and urges me to start writing again. It feels like an epiphany every time, and when it comes along, it’s the greatest day of my life up to that point.

STOCKPILING
Next, I start hoarding together all of the ideas that are inspiring me. If it’s one specific idea; for example, boats; I’ll start reading anything I can get my hands on about boats. I usually spend wayyy too much time on Wikipedia, and checking out books from the library. Reading things about “boats” will start to feel like taking a bite of a moist chocolate cake after days of not eating. It’s intoxicating.

URGE TO PURGE
As hard as this is to imagine, it starts to feel like you have to throw up… in a REALLY REALLY good way. There’s no choice in the matter anymore; I have to write something. It starts slow, with me sitting at a piano or picking up a guitar and playing a few notes. Nothing really comes out, but I get hyper and excited from knowing that I feel something coming. It’s easily the most anxious step, and it gets hard to concentrate on anything except what I’m going to write.

HYPERGRAPHIA
As dirty as this is starting to sound, this is where the BIG explosion happens. I can’t do anything but write songs. For weeks straight, I can’t sleep at night because I’ve got a great new idea. I fill notebooks. I write a whole new song every time I touch an instrument. When I lay down at night, melodies pop into my head – melodies so perfect, that they drive me to throw the blankets off of myself, and run to the nearest instrument to start mapping them out. I sketch out conceptual ideas that I know will never even make sense to anyone but myself. I think up story-lines, and ways to make the songs into one big movie. I invent characters. I visualize plots in my head, that line up to the notes that are coming out of my speakers. It’s a creative faucet that I can’t (and don’t ever want to) turn off. And it makes me feel like my life has a direction.

DECELERATION
When it gets to the point where I have a full day that I don’t write, I know it’s starting to slow down. I’m still creating, but it starts to turn into a nighttime thing. I only get creative bursts at 4 in the morning. I can feel a pain in the pit of my stomach, which I try to ignore, but is subtly signalling to me that my time is running out. Lots of denial happens here.

DEMOTIVATION
This is the part that I don’t fully understand. Somehow, the universe re-arranges itself, so that SOMETHING steps into my path. Maybe my computer crashes and I lose a great song I was working on. Maybe the person I was collaborating with has stopped working as hard as I am. Something ALWAYS happens. And when it does, it’s like getting a flat tire. I can still drive for a while, but the hissing sound is reminding me that my decline is inevitable. Lots of denial happens here too…

STRUGGLE (or, The Bubblegum Pop Trap)
All of a sudden, the craft that I had taken by the reigns only a few months ago, becomes a difficult task. Sitting down to write songs is like sitting down to do math homework. I don’t enjoy it at all. I have small bursts of creativity, but they all end in songs that sound like they should be on a Backstreet Boys album (no offense to any die-hard fans). The ideas I come up with are inspiring when they pop into my head, but once I finish tracking them and listen back, I’m embarrassed by the outcome. This is where my head starts telling me to put down the pen. And even if I fight it, the ink dries up, and I’m left with one of those crappy ball-point pens that only puts scratches in the paper.

WRITER’S BLOCK
Now begins the low point of my life. As often as it happens, I’m still devastated every time. I’m sure it sounds petty reading it here, but when writing is as big of a part of you life as it is mine, writer’s block is crippling. It’s the ultimate downer. It’s as bad as your first break-up. Every time you wake up, you remember that you’re dried up, and all of the defeat comes crashing over you again. It’s when I start planning my future at Burger King (no offense to any die-hard fans) and seriously consider selling all of my musical equipment. It’s that bad. Everyday, I have to fight to convince myself that I didn’t make a mistake, and that this is what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. I stay in my bedroom. I don’t want to be around anyone. And as soon as I prepare to give up altogether – there’s a spark.

Where I’m At: Part 2

CURRENTLY INSPIRING ME
Ryan Adams
Jack Kerouac
Peaceful forest sounds
Ben Gibbard
Typewriters

IN MY CD PLAYER (because I refuse to digitize)
Ryan Adams – Easy Tiger
DJ Reggie – A Reginald Gangsta
Death Cab For Cutie – The Open Door EP

SICK OF HEARING ABOUT
Swine Flu
Adam Lambert

CURRENTLY ADDICTED TO
Twitter
30 Rock
The Office
The Kennedy assassination

ON THE NIGHTSTAND BY MY BED, or, CURRENTLY READING
Jim Marrs – Crossfire: The Plot That Killed Kennedy
Ryan Adams – Infinity Blues
Rene Daumal – A Night of Serious Drinking

CURRENTLY FALLING ASLEEP TO
The Office: Season 3