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Just like all those old clichés.

April 9, 2007

I am almost done with that song I posted about from the coffee shop. I don’t know how it will end up sounding when the music is complete, but I can hear it in my head so clearly that when I accept that CMT award, I will remember this moment with a rueful smile. It’s a duet — my first one ever — and I enjoyed the back and forth (with myself) so much, that I think I will try to write a duet for my band. If only I could channel Tom Petty and Stevie Nicks into my brain, I think I could achieve something fairly badass.

This song I just wrote, however, is the opposite of badass. It’s like… goodass? I don’t know. It’s very sweet, to the point of treacle, and if it works out, you will no doubt hear it sung at your teenage cousin’s shotgun wedding. I apologize in advance. What I’m proud of is the main theme of the song — I stole the idea from some very negative circumstances and added so much sugar and aspartame and Splenda to it, it is now a frosted, fluffy, pink thing sweet enough to cause a toothache. Hey, if you’re gonna go, go big, I say. I managed to fit in a few clever little references, at least, so we’ll see how it works out, if the musician for whom I wrote it even likes it.

Update: He loves it! It will have to be edited down a bit, but he wants me to work with him on the music and everything. Kudos to me for just flipping doing it. Why am I so weird? Of course, now I have to write another one for him, and then at least four more for my own project. Panic begins anew.

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