he said.
Now, way back in the old days, to me, corporate buzz words were like finger nails down the chalkboard of my soul.
Using terms like synergy, paradigm shift and thinking outside the box was a one way ticket to endearing yourself to me as a court jester. Good for a laugh and a roll of the eyes, but it might take years to fight your way back into my respectable column.
At first I was smarmy just for the sake of being smarmy (its a youthful trait I've been dedicated to hammering out of my system). Then such terms angered me when I realized that anyone who uses the phrase "thinking outside the box" is usually the person who can't, won't and is desperately afraid when others do.
But I gotta say, when the speaker said "paradigm shift" I didn't wiggle or cringe or display any other obnoxious physicality. I just nodded my head and thought "That sounds about right."
Part of it is cause I'm older. I have responsibilities that keep my feet firmly planted on the reservation. Another reason is that I'm blessed with working with people that are as smart or smarter than me. And frankly, I've had enough paradigm shifts throughout my life that I just get it.
I says this because "Castle Park"
as it is now
as I see it
sucks.
One year ago (ish) I set off on creating a conceptual art piece that was part indie/pop album and part travelogue. I chose the father son relationship as my foundation with the firm belief that the raw purity of emotion would make me a better writer and applying the empathetic observation of a writer would make me a better father.
In both cases I was right.
So kudos to me.
But the actual material, the end result, the bottom line, the stuff that is left to posterity, totally blows.
I wanted this blog to be a daily thing, but daily turned into weekly turned into monthly turned into I guess whenever.
And the music . . .
the music was supposed to be dark and sexy and dangerous so that the casual listener would never find the literal hidden within the metaphoric. And those blessed fans who have followed along would be doubly ensnared as if they've been carrying around their own little secret.
So at the one year mark, I took two days off to record the whole thing. I wanted to hear where I was.
Two ten hour days. Every instrument from a twelve string to a ukelele. Fighting past throbbing fingertips and un-cooperating vocal chords.
And then I sat back and listened.
And where I was wasn't where I wanted to be.
Instead of sexy and dangerous, I've got cheerful and downright jaunty.
The metaphors weren't hidden, they're right out in the open. Lyrics that I thought where so cleverly disguised sit fat on the melody line and come across as cliches no one else has gotten around to using yet.
My mythic journey has ended up a toe-tapping romp.
It's a total disaster.
And now I have two choices.
I can scrap the whole damn thing. Maybe keep a few of the songs for other days. Delete this blog, so that I one day I won't have to explain myself to a corporate head hunter. Drag most of the offensive tracks to my digital waste basket. Me and my friends would ignore the subject at dinner parties and "Castle Park" would fade out of the scene like a bad stock purchase or an ex-girlfriend. It would be something I said when I was drunk just before I passed out at the karaoke bar.
Or
and this is a big "OR"
Or I can man up.
I can embrace it.
I can look deeply in to those big brown eyes,
look past the crows feet and unpaid credit card bills
and see this vision of love for the first time.
She might not be the girl of my dreams, but that's only because I need better dreams.
Paradigm Shift.
