Now that I’ve given away my music for the RPM Challenge to friends and many people have had time to hear it and react, I wanted a chance to explain some of the creative process that went into making each track.  This post will be the fourth of several which will go into some detail on my thoughts during the songwriting process.

Track Seven- Little Belle

There were two reasons the guitar part turned out like it did.  First, I realized that I wasn’t using any F major chords during my writing.  Everything else – A through G – but no F major.  So I planned everything around it.  Also, I play a version of “I Can See Clearly Now” by Johnny Nash (I want the clothes in that link…).  Every time I play it, I alternate between an F major in the chorus right where he says “bright” the first time and a much more pinched and tense version of that F.  I wanted to work this “pinched” version into a song.

The lyrics of this song were the only ones where, right from the beginning, I knew what I was trying to say.  It’s very intentionally about all my friends and their little girls.  Almost all of my good friends with children have girls.  I’m not sure why, but it’s virtually all of them.  Maybe 80%+.  And a few little girls in particular.  So now they get to grow up in a world where there’s a song written about them.  What little girl wouldn’t want that? I think it also works pretty well sung to a few big girls, too.

I replaced “so pristine” with “fresh and clean” in the first verse.  Partly because it works better and partly because it’s a tiny little OutKast joke.  I couldn’t help but like the image of a “little belle” – a tiny debutantette in repose.  This and track 4 (Heartbreak Prediction) were the first times I’ve ever tried to sing harmony with myself, which was a lot of fun.  It still doesn’t approach the fun of having someone else to sing with.

Track Eight – Gravity

Drums, drums, drums.  The guitar part here is pretty simple, but I keep envisioning huge, big, thunderous drums behind it.  Unfortunately, I am just not a very good drummer.  It was written with the idea of driving percussion behind it.  Find me an aggressive drummer to work with (who doesn’t self-destruct) and I’d be a happy man.  I even have “rough drums” written on my fragment notes.

The idea for this one evolved during writing.  The initial questions were, “What happens if, sometime in the future, you and I both happened to be single at the same time again?  Would we get together again?  Would it be the same?  Would we still like each other?  Would it still work?”  But I wrote about “drowning my sorrows” and getting “satisfied” and I couldn’t get the image out of my head of the high-calorie world of drowning sorrows in beer and sweets.  I’m pretty sure I tried to work “twinkie”, “oatmeal creme pie”, or some Little Debbie product into the lyrics for about an hour.  When I wrote the line, “She’s trynna hide her extra pounds,” it was all settled what the song would be about.  These two people have gotten a little older, gained a little weight, and are somewhat self-conscious about it.   I can just imagine a dude casually shrugging his shoulders over an overpriced dinner and saying, “Don’t worry about it, baby.  Me too.  But love’s the opposite of gravity.”

I envisioned a big Fountains of Wayne chorus to go along with the big drums.  I don’t know if it goes on too long, or if I’ve just heard it a million times already.  But I still like the chorus and it feels like a singalong, so I left ‘em all in there.  If I could do it again, I might edit a few out, but I don’t know yet.  I think the problem of “good enough” is a very difficult one for an artist.  When is it good enough to stop messing around with it?  And is “good enough” really good enough, when you know you really ought to be striving for “great”?