ericprincessdragon

Tag: rock

  • Finger Wizards

    Over the last few months I’ve been playing in a new band yet to be officially named but currently being referred to as The Port Orford Shreds. The band consists of Ben Horton on drums, my brother Ryan Feliciano on guitar and myself on bass. We’ve been talking about doing this project for several years, a project built around Ryan’s shred guitar playing – covering instrumentals from some of our favorite virtuosic shred guitarists. For me this project represents a return to a style of music and approach that I had essentially moved away from for about 15 years.

    In my early teens, at the time I started playing guitar, I was listening to a lot of punk music and began to be fascinated by more challenging and technical guitar playing. I was taking the obligatory run through classic rock guitar music like Led Zeppelin and AC/DC, eventually moving towards more heavy bands such as Black Sabbath and Metallica, quickly seeking more obscure and over-the-top technical guitar wizardry.

    I remember I was about 13 or 14 when my cousin visited and left me with a burnt CD with the word “SHRED” sharpied on the label. The first song completely blew my mind. I had never heard such over-the-top guitar playing (and singing), and I remember listening to this ridiculous falsetto, trying to transcribe any lyrics I could make out to figure out the name of this song and band. The song was Superheroes by the speed metal band Racer X, featuring Paul Gilbert, who ushered me down this rabbit hole of ridiculous, highly technical guitar playing that became popular in the 80s.

    Other songs I can remember discovering on this CD were the Racer X instrumentals Technical Difficulties and Scarified, Arpeggios from Hell by neo-classical shredder Yngwie Malmsteen, and Concerto by Cacophony, a project featuring super shredders Jason Becker and Marty Friedman. Naturally, with the discovery of these players I only wanted one thing, and that was to shred. There would be many other guitarists, bands, albums and songs I would grow obsessed with on my quest to shred.

    The golden age of shred seemed to have passed in the 80s and early 90s, but in 2007 it was a great year to be a fan, with Paul Gilbert releasing his first instrumental rock album – Get Out of My Yard. This album along with the follow up Silence Followed By A Deafening Roar are two of my favorite albums in this style and direct references and inspiration for the project.

    Sidequest:
    Not knowing better at the time, I used to pick with a strange technique which put a lot of strain on the top joint of my right index finger. As I began building up speed and playing more and more technical riffs and solos for long hours, I began to experience pain in my picking hand, namely in that index finger. This led to me drastically changing my picking technique, which led to a major step back in my speed and picking abilities. At this point in my playing I was getting into college and moving away from this sort of technical music, moving more towards playing in pop bands and original projects which didn’t require any shredding. Eventually I moved away from the electric guitar and picking entirely, taking a break from music to focus on studying and eventually embarking on my first world travels. After about a year without playing much, I picked up a cheap nylon guitar and essentially started over, with a major focus on fingerstyle playing, moving towards more simple, melodic pieces and songwriting.

    I had given up on any dreams of shredding, and up until the last few months pulling this project together, I feel my playing has somewhat stagnated for a number of years. I don’t practice as much as I used to and don’t play nearly as many hours. I haven’t really worked on any pieces that pushed my technical skills for many years, instead just focusing on songwriting, recording and performing original music.

    The songs we’ve been selecting for the shred project have been a return to the playing and practice I would spend countless hours with as a teenager. Many of these songs I had to start learning at around 50 to 70% speed, gradually working out the parts and lines and repeating and building up speed incrementally so I could pull them off with the band. I still have plenty of work to go in building up my chops, but it feels good to be working on material that’s challenging the limits of my playing and giving me the drive to work on guitar technique that I’ve neglected for years.

    In writing this entry I was reminded that the songs we are covering for this project are not only technical exercises, but each one connects to experiences that were significant in my early musical life. Growing up near Los Angeles meant I had regular opportunities to go watch shred guitarists like Paul Gilbert, Joe Satriani, Steve Vai, Guthrie Govan, John Petrucci, Buckethead and more. Some of my earliest adventures — before I ever traveled the world — were chasing these players down to see them play live.

    Racer X Live

    Paul Gilbert was my favorite guitarist and Racer X my favorite band across those years. My tastes have shifted quite a bit over the years, and it’s been many years since I’ve actively listened to Racer X, but at that point in my life their music meant a lot to me. By the time I discovered them they were inactive for years, and any chance of a reunion, tour or future releases seemed extremely unlikely.

    In early 2009 it was announced that Racer X would be getting back together for a one-off performance, hosted by Ibanez guitars to celebrate Paul Gilbert’s 20th anniversary with the company. The thing is, the event wasn’t open to the public — it was for Ibanez artists and staff, and otherwise only open to badge-carrying attendees of the NAMM trade show. NAMM (the National Association of Music Merchants) is an annual industry insider event. As Google puts it: “The NAMM Show is a trade-only event and is not open to the general public. It is accessible to music industry professionals, business owners, employees, educators, students, and approved media or content creators.”

    I was 16 years old. I couldn’t drive, let alone have any industry connections for a NAMM badge. Word had it that the event wasn’t actually being held inside the exhibition center, but at a hotel ballroom nearby. Still from everything I could find online, there was no way I was getting into this show.

    The morning of, I had a rehearsal with the high school drumline, and the entire time I had this horrible feeling that I was going to miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see this legendary band. I just felt that I had to try. As soon as rehearsal let out, I called up the one friend I had with a license, explained the situation, and he was down for the mission.

    We took the long drive out to Anaheim — two awkward little teenagers sneaking around the Sheraton Park hotel, trying not to stand out. We found the ballroom the event was to be held at and there were signs posted that said it would be open to those with NAMM badges. Still no one was certain how strictly this rule would be enforced, with little to lose – we waited. After waiting in line for a few anxious hours unsure what would happen, about half an hour before the show, the staff opened the doors and we were in. I couldn’t believe it.

    The catch was that the room was split in two with the Ibanez insiders up front, with tons of space between them and a barricade that separated the rest of us. This was disappointing but I was happy to be inside. The show began with a live band set by guitarist Andy Timmons followed by a performance of Paul’s solo band. This was great even from halfway across the ballroom, but by the time Racer X took stage, I couldn’t take it anymore. I jumped the barrier. As I quickly shuffled up to the front of the room I noticed that several other fans followed me, and we proceeded to watch the performance from the front row, right up against the stage. All this made for one of the top experiences of my teenage years and one of my all-time favorite shows.

    Here’s a clip from that show:

    The Aristocrats

    In the years after the Racer X show, going to NAMM in Anaheim became a tradition — I got my first badge at 17 and returned several more times over the following years. The show is chaos and cacophony, both heaven and hell for music and gear nerds: hundreds of companies bringing out their teams and endorsed artists to demo the latest gear, as well as offer signings, clinics, and performances from these top musicians visiting from around the world. With the gathering of all that talent in one place, there are many special performances happening all around the event — some public, some, like the Racer X show, (technically) not.

    That brings me to the Aristocrats, whose song “Aristoclub” is in our shred set. The Aristocrats are the epitome of a supergroup — three of the most technically proficient players in the world today. The range of projects, styles and material this trio has performed over the years, individually and together, is mind-boggling.

    I first became aware of drummer Marco Minnemann through my Paul Gilbert obsession. He famously recorded and toured with Paul in the 2000s — including the Space Ship One album and, most notably for me, the Space Ship Live DVD, where the musicians wore orange space suits for their live-in-studio performances. Bassist Bryan Beller I first knew as a touring member of the cartoon metal band Dethklok. I was a huge fan of the show Metalocalypse, particularly the first season, and I listened to their first album countless times in my teen years. Although the band and music is an absurd and satirical take on metal and celebrity incompetence, the creator Brendon Small is a very competent, Berklee-educated musician and a highly skilled guitarist. Besides Metalocalypse, I also love his first show Home Movies, which has tons of great non-metal music. Bryan Beller is a regular collaborator and member of that touring band, and beyond it he’s recorded with countless artists, has a prolific solo output, and has a strong connection to the world of Frank Zappa alumni such as Mike Keneally.

    Now on to Guthrie Govan, who in my perception is the most consistently mind-blowing guitarist I’ve ever heard. An absolute wizard of the electric guitar, his musicality and virtuosity go beyond anything I could ever dream of. His one and only solo album, Erotic Cakes — named after one of my favorite Simpsons episodes — is an all-time masterpiece of the genre. I could never grow tired of listening to Guthrie’s melodic and inventive playing on this album, not to mention the equally inspiring, tasteful and virtuosic playing of Seth Govan on bass (Guthrie’s brother) and Pete Riley on drums. My understanding is that these three performed as a legendary underground jazz band for years called the Fellowship — a fitting name, considering I’ve seen people lately referring to Guthrie, with his greying long hair and beard, as the Gandalf of guitar. Guthrie had written two books, Creative Guitar 1 and 2, both of which were very inspiring and influential for me as a teenage guitarist. Unfortunately I’ve lost both books over the years, so I’m reminded now that I really should find copies of each and start digging in again.

    I’ve had the great pleasure of watching Guthrie perform live a number of times over the years, and a chance to meet and chat with him a few times along the way. Coincidentally, the first time I ever saw him in person was that same day as the Racer X show — just before it, in fact, as we were waiting in that line in Anaheim, unsure if we’d actually make it through the door. I left my buddy to go to the restroom, and as I was approaching, Guthrie was on his way out. I said hello and we had a quick chat. Every time I’ve talked with him, I’ve been overwhelmed by his humility, generosity and good humor. Just one of the coolest dudes ever, and an absolute musical genius.

    All this to say that I experienced a very special event during NAMM in January 2011. At the time I was playing with a band called Cockeyed Optimist, a female-fronted hard rock band based in Orange County, and through them I had my industry insider pass to NAMM that year. I was staying with my band mates at their home in Laguna Niguel during the event, catching excited rides up in the morning and exhausted rides back in the afternoon. NAMM is terribly exhausting — hours of constant noise, standing and walking, not to mention all the mingling, which by this point had an extra element to it, since I was studying music in college and kept running into people I was already playing and studying with out in the world.

    There was a buzz one day about a special performance — word that Guthrie Govan would be playing along with some other legends. So after the show, through my insistence, my bandmates and I drove out to the venue. As fate would have it, we were informed that the show was meant to have separate bands, but for one reason or another that fell through, and so Guthrie Govan, Bryan Beller and Marco Minnemann were left without supporting acts. They decided they would each learn and perform a few original songs together, as a band. The feeling in the room was electrifying. These legends were performing together for the first time, just for us, and the fun and excitement they were having was infectious. We didn’t know it then, but we were witnessing in real time the birth of what would become the Aristocrats — a band that would go on to record, write and perform together to this day.

    At about the halfway point, my friends were exhausted from the day and tired of indulging me, and they let me know the ship was sailing. I was caught with the same feeling I’d had at the Racer X show — that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I missed this. So, in a time before Uber, with no certain or logical way to get back to their place in a neighborhood not serviced by public transportation, I let them know I would find my own way back. Shocked, they asked me seriously if I was sure, and I said yes. They left, and I enjoyed every second of that performance.

    Afterward, as people were making their way out — many of them surely returning to NAMM mayhem the next morning — I started making phone calls. I didn’t really know where I was, but I knew one of my college classmates and band mate in the college pop band lived somewhere in that general area. I called her, asked if she had any ideas, and she called another one of our class/bandmates. We began a relay — she picked me up and brought me to meet up with the other classmate, who then drove me out to Laguna Niguel. It was a mission, and just great fun hanging out with them along the way. I got there late and was buzzing, and the next day I was exhausted.

    It wouldn’t be too long afterward that I’d see these musicians perform again as the Aristocrats, on one of their early tours at the Baked Potato in Hollywood. And then in February 2024 — a whopping 13 years after that first performance — Ryan and I drove out to Portland to see the Aristocrats perform at one of our favorite venues, Mississippi Studios. It was one of their first shows after the release of their latest album, which I believe had only come out a few days before, so we got to watch some of the earliest public performances of that material. The energy of the band was much like their very first performance — three monster players totally cool, non-pretentious and down to earth, just having such a great time. Mississippi Studios has a balcony with a few seats upstairs and a walkway that goes out over and along the stage, and we watched the entire show from just over the stage, basically a bird’s-eye view just above the action. One of the songs we watched performed from the new album that night has made it into our set — “Aristoclub.” It’s one of their most straightforward and least shreddy songs, thankfully for our sake.

    St0rk

    The last musician I’d like to talk about in this realm of acrobatic guitar is Shane Gibson — lesser known than most of the other names I’ve mentioned, and tragically gone way too soon. In his lifetime he gained the most fame and notoriety as a touring guitarist for the band Korn. For the record, I always thought Korn’s music was dog shit. I remember being in elementary school and seeing the other little rocker kids who were all about Korn and Slipknot — neither of those bands ever clicked with me. Regardless, that was Shane’s big gig, but I was brought to his music through his performance and instructional videos. When I first discovered him, he only had one CD available, which I ordered and listened to on repeat. I believe those recordings were self-produced, and a couple of them were essentially demos for what he’d later release with the band Stork. I bought his instructional DVD, which was just impossible for me — he had an insane technique — but I would work through it anyway.

    For a time he was endorsed by Carvin guitars, which I loved. My Carvin Bolt is the guitar I’ve had the longest. At a time when I sold off all my guitars, pedals, amps and so on to fund a one-way international trip, this is the one guitar I kept, leaving it in the care of a trusted friend for years as I traveled the world. I would frequent the Carvin store in Hollywood on trips to Hollywood Boulevard. Meanwhile, in Covina, California, there was a lonely Carvin store that shut down several years before Carvin eventually closed all their stores and rebranded as Kiesel — but somehow, a little before that Covina store closed, they hosted a clinic by none other than Shane Gibson. He demonstrated his highly technical and inventive instrumental guitar songs, such as “Doooosh” and “Ducksinapond.” I had a chance to meet him then, and we ended up becoming online acquaintances.

    Not too long after, I reached out to him for a private lesson and drove out to his apartment in Culver City, California, where we had some good chats and a good lesson — he guided me on picking and on incorporating arpeggios into my playing. I watched as he grew more popular and widely known for his instrumental work and projects like SchwarzenatoR — an Arnold Schwarzenegger-themed metal band with drummer Thomas Lang, another super shredder, that incorporated samples and a humorous blend of technical metal playing and, well, Arnold Schwarzenegger. I was delighted to hear about the formation of the band Stork, whose first album had the definitive recordings of my favorite Shane Gibson instrumentals. Stork released that first album in 2009, and their second — which saw the band grow from an instrumental project to a vocal one featuring vocalist VK Lynne — was released in 2014, after Shane passed at the age of 35. His death sent shockwaves through the guitar world: a rising figure gone in his prime.

    The last time I saw Shane was at the NAMM show, I believe in early 2012. We ran into each other randomly, and I was touched by his enthusiasm, asking me genuinely how I’d been. We had a good chat and walked through the show together until he got to his next appointment, and then I went off wandering into the noise. It’s been an honor to learn, practice and perform his song “Ducksinapond” — to connect with his spirit and put some of his music out into the world. RIP Shane.

    Our current list of covers are as follows:

    Paul Gilbert – Love is the Saddest Thing, Hurry Up, Curse of Castle Dragon
    Racer X – Catapult to Extinction, King of the Monsters
    Shane Gibson/St0rk – Ducksinapond
    The Aristocrats – Aristoclub
    Nick Johnston – Sandmonster

    I cut together a video with portions of each of these songs from our last performance. You can watch it here:

    We’re now working on an instrumental arrangement of Zomby Woof by Frank Zappa, In the Goo of the Evening by Mattias Eklund — which features some of the most challenging rhythmic figures I’ve ever learned – and Uncle Skunk by Guthrie Govan.

    These days I don’t listen to a lot of shred music — I haven’t for a number of years. My tastes change and shift around all the time, and I’ve got a list of artists I always return to and albums I’ll listen to on repeat throughout the years. But it’s been a pleasure to return to material that brought me so much excitement and inspiration at an earlier point in my playing. The material still challenges and inspires me greatly. And although I’d given up on my dream of playing such technical guitar, even though I’m playing bass in this project, there are still plenty of technical challenges to my playing — it’s demanded lots of hours, focus and attention to learn the parts and keep up with my bandmates.

    Beyond the songs, we’ve got a short list of other covers in mind, but we’re shifting focus towards original instrumentals, of which both Ryan and I have several contributions. I’ll finish by sharing a recording of a very early instrumental piece of mine which I called simply “Crazy Stuff.” I originally wrote it when I was about 15 or 16. Here’s a recording from 2015 done entirely by Ryan. It’s got this feeling of 2000s metal all over it. He recorded it according to my arrangement, but really added some awesome leads and extra guitar layers. Soon we’ll be working out a new arrangement for the three-piece band.

    I’m really excited for this project, especially to be digging into original music. Ryan has a huge catalogue of ideas that would fit this type of project perfectly, and we’re beginning to dig into them now.

    One last note: in the time since I began this entry, a new contender for the band name emerged naturally in a conversation — my favorite name yet, “Finger Wizard.” I thought it was perfect, silly and stupid – but perfect. Unfortunately the band mates disagreed, hopefully they come around. Otherwise we continue as “The Port Orford Shreds”

    Our next performance will be on July 25, 2026 at Mr Eds Underground Pub in Port Orford. Rock on.

  • The Challenge: July 2017 Pt. 2 – Songs 1-13

    Continuing from Pt. 1 – this entry contains the songs and stories behind the songs I wrote and recorded during the first half of the 30 day song-a-day challenge in July 2017.

    Ten To One

    This is a historic song for me — the very first song of the very first song challenge I ever attempted. One thing I discovered over the course of that first month was that in order to keep up with the demands of the task at hand, I would need to take the following approach: every day start something, and every day finish something. With that said, I had actually started working on the song I would submit for day two — Following — the day before the challenge began. But I decided that to start off right I should hold myself to writing and submitting something completely brand new on the very first day. So essentially both Following and Ten To One were written and completed within a 24-hour window, but I would wait until after I woke up on July 1 to begin work on Ten To One.

    The title refers to the period in which I slept that day — going to sleep at 10 AM and waking up at 1 PM. I can’t remember what if any reason I had to stay up until the day was already underway, but truthfully it’s not out of the ordinary for me. I believe I was up working on Following, and the excitement of this new songwriting venture surely had something to do with it.

    This song and a few others are tied in my memory to the house in Arcadia, California that my mom rented for about a year after leaving our house on Acaso Drive. It was there that I stayed up all night, slept just a few hours, and woke up to write this song. It’s a short and simple song — I employed some jazzier 2-5-1 type progressions that I wouldn’t typically reach for, especially these days. There’s really not much to it. I think I wrote and arranged it within just a couple of hours, went into the garage, set up a couple of microphones, and ran through it until I got a take I was happy with. Sleep deprived and excited for the month to come. This recording would be the very last time I ever played this song — really just a song for the moment, for the challenge, something I wouldn’t have written otherwise. And with that, we were off.

    “Ten To One”

    One Two
    Three hours of sleep
    How I rest my eyes
    Three hours of sleep gone by

    Stayed up for the sun
    Went to sleep alone
    Woke up spooning this new tune

    Thought I'd catch up on Z's
    I woke up to Saturday
    What happened to the week?

    One Two
    Three hours of sleep
    How I rest my eyes
    Three hours of sleep gone by
    (And the day waits)

    Following

    Following would have been the first song I actually began writing going into the challenge, but I bumped it with the decision to start something new on the day itself. With Ten To One out of the way and Following mostly written, I had a chance to dedicate the day more to the guitar arrangement and recording. I have a faint memory of recording this not in the garage but in the spare bedroom — I believe it may have been my grandma’s bedroom. I’m not sure where she would have been at the time, most likely visiting with some uncle or my aunt, but I seem to remember recording the vocals in the middle of the night, almost at a whisper, sitting on her bed along with the guitars.

    If you know me or if you’ve read other entries on this site, you may know that I don’t have warm feelings about social media and the influence it has across the world. From my first exposure to Instagram and Facebook I felt that they were deeply rotten and threatening to our minds and behavior. I had become pretty fixated on the idea that our relationships and social skills were being tarnished — social life being reduced to symbols on a screen, the meanings of words like friend, follow, share and like being slowly reassigned away from their original meanings into abstract digital concepts. I would elaborate on this in Unplugged, which began during this challenge and was revisited during the 2018 song-a-day challenge. Whereas Unplugged focused on that reappropriation of language, Following was written from a more satirical place.

    What pushed the song was how often at the shows I was playing and attending there would be this obligatory moment where the band would face the crowd and say “follow us on Instagram.” I never felt any deep enthusiasm behind it — mostly desperation, and some embarrassment. It is a desperate situation that essentially the most viable path to connect with an audience runs through services designed to be as addictive as possible, to engross as many people as possible, to generate as much revenue as possible for grotesque companies. Not to mention around that time I remember at any social gathering, a party or after-show hangout, it seemed like people couldn’t wait for the moment where they go to say “do you have Instagram, can I follow you?” Passing their phones back and forth and calling it “connection.”

    The song is written as a parody — from the perspective of someone who has fully given themselves over to the platform, maintaining a curated false reality, following the trends, maximizing their engagement, telling themselves they don’t need to go outside because they can see the world through their phone. By the end the narrator asks with some desperation if you’ll follow them back.

    I’ve gone through cycles with this over the years — spending months or years at a time with no social media presence at all, deleting accounts entirely, which in some cases meant losing contact with certain people forever. A ghostly presence as only a lurker, not a poster, which is roughly where I’ve been lately. And at other times actually posting updates and sharing music, which truthfully has been positive in the periods I’ve taken that route — which I find all the more conflicting.

    Unlike Ten To One, this silly sarcastic song found life after the challenge as an irregular but frequent enough appearance in the sets of The Planet Of, where it took on a heavier and more rocking tone. I’ll include an alternate demo featuring my brother Ryan on bass and Scott McTaggart on drums. I’ve always imagined a music video for this one. It still lives in my head. Someday, perhaps.

    “Following”

    Following the leader
    Following the path
    Who carves @ my name
    I'll laugh when yer lookin'
    Like it's all a gas
    Who will pick me up
    When I'm cryin' when I'm lyin'

    I could see the world
    Don't even have to stand
    I could be a man
    I could take a pic I could
    poke it in my hand
    I could be a brand
    Would you buy, what I'm supplyin'

    I don't really know you
    Still I adore you
    I've looked into your wall one thousand times
    I may never see your eyes but I'll
    look at whatchu let me
    Baby I'm subscribed

    I'm following you
    Will you follow me
    I'm following you
    Are you following
    I'm following you
    Will you follow me
    I'm following you
    Are you following

    Will Hide

    I have such a vivid, dream-like memory of the day surrounding this song. Just the third song in and I already felt fully in the throes of songwriting obsession. I was back at Rad Pro, back in my little recording space in Ontario, and one of the key moments that sparked this song came when I was walking through downtown Ontario and a black SUV passed me with music blaring. Meanwhile I was in my head, trying to dig up an idea for the next song.

    I began to imagine a song that essentially haunts me — something that comes from outside and finds me anywhere I go. I meant for it to be the story of an earworm. I was imagining a melody I cannot stand, maybe just something playing from that car, now playing in the store, now playing in my mind wherever I go. An inescapable force.

    It felt like a natural meta exploration of what was already happening during this period of intense writing. When I’m working on something I will listen to it over and over and over — headphones on, walking laps around downtown Ontario, taking notes on anything I want to change or add, then going back in to keep pushing. These days I do the same thing on the road or at the beach or walking through the forest. That pattern never really left. In the story of Will Hide though, the separation is that usually when I’m working on something I’m excited about it — I want to develop it and see where it goes. But in the story of this song, the melody is something I’m trying to escape. Something I don’t like. A torturous earworm that follows me everywhere.

    The chorus is really the most direct commentary on what was happening during the challenge — another day, another song, another chance to do it all wrong. The rest of the song follows the listener trying to escape this melody before ending in a kind of resignation, an acceptance: I’ll be better off if I just learn to love it, and whether I love it or hate it doesn’t really matter. That resignation was a key realization that came to me during this challenge — that perfection is impossible, and the kind of thinking that tells you something isn’t good enough yet will take something exciting and turn it into nothing. Dust. Working through a song every day meant I couldn’t be too picky. I had to take something good enough and follow it to the end.

    Between working on new songs day to day I would also return to these ideas and develop them further — and in this case, having the demo done gave me the opportunity to collaborate. My brother-in-law Andy Egyud sent me a pass with many different bass ideas, I asked him to experiment, try melodic parts, try different things throughout the song — and what you hear is a composite, heavily edited from the original take he sent. I’ve always wanted to return to this one to record live drums, fresh vocals, and remix the track. I believe I did do a remix around 2022/2023 and that’s the version included here. It’s a strange song but I still enjoy it, and I’m particularly fond of the vocal harmonies — which was very new territory for me. Just a few days into the challenge and I was already stretching beyond anything I had written or recorded before.

    “Will Hide”

    Walked outside wasn't feeling very happy
    Wasn't happy happy at all
    I heard a tune playing in a car driving by me
    I didn't like it didn't like it at all
    That feeling that stain on the street
    I think I'd rather have stayed inside

    Another day another song
    Another chance to get along
    Another jam another lesson
    One more blind experimentation

    I kept walking I went to the store where
    On the ceiling I heard that same blasted ear worm
    Then I went to the park and I heard it on someone's phone
    It follows me everywhere I roam

    Everywhere I roam it follows me
    Everywhere I roam it follows
    Outside sounds so loud
    Can't turn em off
    Outside sounds so loud

    So I
    (will hide) In a basement
    (will hide) With my guitar
    (will hide) Behind the glass
    (will hide) From the mess
    (will hide) From my enemies
    (will hide) From my friends
    (will hide) From beginnings
    (will hide) From the end
    (will hide) from the tunes
    (will hide) in my head
    (will hide) in the night
    I will never go to bed
    (will hide) From my demons
    (will hide) Or I will try
    (will hide) From all the sounds my ears don't like

    When I come out of hiding I'm stuck to the street
    I'm stuck to the sounds inside and outside of me
    Hiding or not a song will play on
    Love it and hate it I must tolerate it
    If I learn to love it I'll feel a lot better
    If I love to share I'll get along anywhere
    If I learn to love it I'll feel a lot better
    Love it or hate it doesn't really matter

    Another day another song
    Another chance to do it all wrong
    Another jam another lesson
    One more blind experimentation
    Another day another night
    Another chance to get it right
    Another jam another session

    Bad Kitty

    Ft. Ryan Feliciano (Bass, shred guitar)

    Bad Kitty represented a major shift from the previous songs I had written for the challenge. I had spent the day and night pulling together Will Hide — a lo-fi, almost trip-hop inspired track — and before that I had kicked things off with Ten To One, which is basically a jazzy folk song. I wanted to push myself to write something very different. I decided I wanted something heavy, with scorching guitar solos, leaning into some of my earlier influences in heavy rock and metal.

    It was within those first few days that I was sharing my demos to SoundCloud and sending them to a few friends and close family outside the group. My older brother Richard made a request — after listening to the first couple of songs he asked if I could write a song about a terrible cat. He was referring to his cat Judy, whose Instagram handle was @judytheterrible. I’ll note that the account is still active — she just hasn’t posted in a while, as her admin team has been busy raising my niece for the last five years.

    I had this in mind already and almost instantaneously, when I resolved to write a hard rock and metal jam, the concept of Bad Kitty just clicked. I conceived the ending before anything else — it would all lead toward some over-the-top, absurd grand finale, a chorus of cats just singing meow meow meow meow like the demented metal cousin of the Meow Mix jingle.

    I wanted to lean into the 80s metal that influenced me as a teenager and I think that guided the tones and riffs that started to shape the song. It was honestly difficult to record a lot of the guitar parts — it demanded a type of playing I hadn’t done for years at that point, which in itself made it more challenging than composing the piece. The lyrics are simple and tell the story of a bad kitty, a cat that bites. Judy loved and still loves to bite. I think she’s bitten me almost every time I’ve seen her since she was a kitten.

    As I was putting the song together I realized the scope I wanted to take with it was beyond what I was fully capable of technically, so this was the first song in the challenge where I brought in my brother Ryan for collaboration. I had already recorded the overall form — the first guitar solo you hear was composed and performed in chunks by me, channeling my inner Yngwie Malmsteen — but by the time the lyrics hit “baaaad kittyyyy” and the ferocious harmonized guitars begin, that’s Ryan’s contribution, along with his soaring shredding guitar solo at the end.

    I’ve never been married to genre. I’m constantly moving between different influences and I love lots of music. Across the song challenges I’ve really enjoyed doing genre shifts, setting the intention to lean into something different for a day. If I didn’t have that openness I wouldn’t have managed to compose such a ridiculous rock anthem for my brother’s cat. And there would be no fun in that.

    Razor sharp claws
    Biting is her game
    But she's not playing
    There's terror in her name

    Terror is her business
    Business is good
    Business is damn good
    You better watch out

    If you've got a back
    Don't you ever think about turning around
    Beast out for the attack
    She is built to tear you down tear you down

    Kitty
    Kitty

    Bad kitty
    Bad kitty
    Terrible kitty
    Terrible terrible kitty
    She sings!

    Meow meow meow meow
    (ad infinitum)

    Young Love

    Young Love is a song about exactly that. During the challenge I was constantly fishing for ideas and this one started with just a few riffs I had arranged in a GarageBand project. Something about the quality and flavor of those riffs took me back to a sort of preteen state, reminding me of bands like Coheed and Cambria — never a favorite of mine, but one I listened to occasionally in my early teens. Once those teenage years were evoked I started digging into feelings around a high school relationship.

    I had a conversation with a friend recently who expressed how much he misses the feeling of being in love the way we experienced it in our youth. We talked about whether that intensity comes from naivety, lack of exposure, immaturity, or just pure hormones — but whatever it was, we both agreed that it felt so consuming, even just having a crush as a kid or teen. And how relationships as adults feel more measured, less all-consuming, more subtle.

    With that said, the phenomenon I’ve experienced is that as time goes on my understanding and capacity for love seems to grow. With every relationship, every experience, something expands. I had this idea that the relationship of my teenage years represented the maximum amount of love I was able to give and feel at the time — but as I went into more mature relationships and experienced greater depths of connection, so too did I experience greater depths of love, and that capacity kept growing. Yet when I think back to that young love I can still feel that part of me. It’s like that love is still there. It was the strongest I had known at that time, but in looking back it was just a cup in a well of love there is still to know.

    One more thing worth noting: the intro to the song is actually one of the earliest pieces of music I ever wrote, from my teenage years — a small instrumental that came out one day, which I notated in transcription software and managed to hang onto all these years. I wrote it at that time with my girlfriend in mind. So there’s a little piece of 16-year-old me at the top of this song.

    Young love
    Passed sure
    But never lost
    I remember how I filled my cup
    And overflowed with you
    Since then
    I tipped the cup
    I dove into a full on pool
    Filled with other souls with whom
    I've sunken into tenderness
    So deep now that I can swim
    In love so deep now that I swim
    I still remember the young love
    I still remember the young love
    Still remember how I filled my cup
    And overflowed with you
    And overflowed (still remember young love)
    Still remember the young love

    Insomniac Stupor Rag

    This was the first instrumental I wrote for the challenge and came from a desire to pivot again — I remember feeling a little burnt out, or at least struggling more than I had the previous days to come up with a lyrical concept I felt strongly about. In a song-a-day challenge the rules are pretty loose, as I covered in the background entry, and plenty of participants don’t submit lyrical pieces at all.

    As the title suggests I was essentially living as an insomniac at this point, sleeping very few hours, spending most of my days and nights developing and recording songs for the challenge. Even a song like Bad Kitty demanded an all-night session to piece together and record. I usually record through the night anyway — so that’s what inspired the title. Sleep deprived, I decided to write a simpler piece for guitar in a ragtime style.

    This kind of fingerpicking style represented a significant shift in my playing. It was later that I would really dive into it, getting turned onto the ragtime blues of artists like Blind Willie McTell. And probably the first piece in this style I ever learned was one of my favorite songs — These Days, written by Jackson Browne and recorded by Nico from the Velvet Underground. It was in my traveling years around 2013 to 2015 that I was really learning pieces like this, playing around with this bouncy picking that combines bass, chords and melodies all at once — it greatly changed my approach to playing guitar. I enjoyed putting this piece together as a way to connect with those influences.

    Sister

    I believe this is the first song from the challenge where I lifted some lyrics I had written previously. A few months before the challenge I had gotten into an argument with my sister, who was in her late teen years at the time. What I had hoped could be a constructive conversation quickly turned into a communication breakdown and came to an abrupt end with no resolution. I wrote a few words then but hadn’t really considered it as a song until this day.

    The song moves from those feelings around the miscommunication into something much warmer — ending with some kind words to clarify that I love her, that I think she’s brilliant and capable of doing anything she wants in this life. Both success and failure are guaranteed, but there is nothing to fear. When I played it to her she said she was put off at first but ultimately thought it was sweet. I couldn’t ask for much more than that.

    The song features Ryan on bass, who really nailed the poppy, punchy feel that tied it all together. It’s a musically strange song, and it featured what I think was the most ambitious vocal melody I had written up to that point. This ended up being a regular song toward the beginning of The Planet Of performances.

    Sister
    Can you step outside
    With me
    Absolutely
    You can
    But will you please

    Please listen for meaning
    Not implications sis
    Meanings are here now
    Implications will become
    Much later on
    I'm here with you now
    Where is your mind?

    You've run away from home with your implications
    You've run away and you left all of your potential
    You've run away from home with your implications
    You've run away and you left all your potential

    You are beautiful you are smart
    You can do anything
    Just as you please
    No soul to come of the earth
    Can stop you
    So long as you believe
    You are powerful
    You are smart
    And clever to do as you please

    You will run far with your intuition
    You hold the world in your hands with great potential
    You will run oh so far with your intuition
    You will take the world on with your boundless spirit

    You will succeed don't be afraid
    You will also fail please don't be afraid
    You will succeed don't be afraid
    You will also fail don't you be afraid

    The Witch & The Wizard

    This was the second instrumental I wrote for the challenge and another stylistic departure. Here I was leaning into the kind of guitar instrumental music I listened to a great deal during my teenage years. My playing is nowhere near the masters of this style, but a clear and direct influence here is the album Erotic Cakes by Guthrie Govan.

    Once I started piecing together the backing track I had a strong feeling that I wanted the song built entirely around a couple of solos, so I reached out to Ryan and asked him to write a solo over the form. We recorded our solos independently and I pieced them together with a short bridge in the middle, and an intro and outro to sandwich them. In my mind the Witch and the Wizard are real characters – I could see and hear them in this song.

    Sharks Not Sharks

    This song has very clear inspiration in real events. The day I wrote it was the day of a long event at a legendary DIY venue in downtown LA called The Smell. I was performing with the band Xinxin for an event being put on by my dear friend Karen Joyce, who publishes music under the name Take Kare. Take Kare – Bloom music video

    There was drama that unfolded over the course of the event that I wasn’t aware of until near the end of the evening. Essentially there was a conflict between Karen and a friend who had been co-organizing the event. As I understand it, the friend took serious issue with a piece Karen was performing — an avant-garde jazz performance in which improvised music was played while Karen read out the names of individuals who had been killed in instances of police brutality. I thought the piece was poignant and deeply compelling. But the co-organizer, who Karen had considered a close friend, accused Karen of using the names of these victims to seek attention, and told Karen that if the piece was performed, she would have nothing to do with the event.

    This was sprung on Karen the day of a major event they had planned together for some time. After going back and forth, Karen made the decision to perform the piece. The co-organizer performed her own set early in the evening and left with some attitude, leaving Karen to handle everything the two of them were meant to do together. The event went well. The performances went well. But once I heard what had happened it seemed clear to me that this was less a moral objection and more something ego-driven — some kind of competitive instinct, a drive to sabotage. I got back to the studio that night and wrote this song.

    It’s essentially an acknowledgment and rejection of those who claim to be friends, collaborators and supporters, but ultimately act from bad intentions brought on by their own insecurities. I started calling them sharks, then quickly realized that was unfair to innocent sharks. As I wrote into the song — a shark would never tell you what not to do, especially not to do something good for you. This one’s for Karen, and for anyone who’s got haters.

    Don't be discouraged
    We live in a shark tank
    Where everyone feeds on blood
    They try to cut you
    Compulsively
    So they can feed

    I'm being unfair I shouldn't compare
    Them to sharks
    A shark would never tell you what not to do
    Especially not to do something good by you

    But somehow these folks have it in them
    To dominate you while they call you friend
    These days friendship is only a click away
    They hold up their bodies to lurk in the clouds
    Think they look down with great understanding
    But they're only looking down
    On the world
    On themselves
    On the world and on you and I

    They say stay woke
    But they only stay home
    They sleep on the same mattress
    Every night and every day
    They treat us like screens
    They be projecting
    They want to push us sit back and escape

    Masters of manipulation, worshippers of death
    They prey on words, to lay good to rest
    Make any case to halt progress for they want us idle
    But we know the depths of pain, that come with feeling
    We know the stress of being, gracious yet painted as villains
    We know how pretentious, the sharks of this land can be
    But we know not the misery, of wanting so badly for others not to succeed

    I'd hate to imagine
    Don't get discouraged
    We are evolving
    We are on the rise
    This is why
    They try to gut us

    We'll make our own cuts
    We'll keep our hearts open
    We'll feed the world
    We'll keep our minds open
    And our feet in the ground
    Where the sharks can't bite us
    The sharks that ain't sharks

    Bar Rats

    This song is essentially an instrumental, although there is some singing at the end. I started writing it with a concept in mind — a bar band. My understanding of what a bar band is has changed a great deal since living in rural Oregon for nearly a decade, but at the time I was going to a lot of bars and hearing a lot of bands around LA, particularly in the San Gabriel Valley and Inland Empire music scene. I had this image of a band that only plays bars, doing some kind of retro psychedelic surf rock, and I thought it would be funny if at the end of an instrumental jam the whole band sang a gang vocal of the words we are bar rats. So I wrote the piece — different melodies, a guitar solo, all leading to that final chant.

    Ryan contributed bass to this one, and came up with the great idea to record a bass being tuned at the very top of the song — that’s where I added the ad-lib “come on man, start the song” in the intro. My favorite thing about this recording is the way the vocals came together. I took a walk through the studio and started asking anyone around if they would come sing on a track. I ended up with myself, Mikey, and a trio from a band called the Frick Fracks all crowded around a single pair of headphones. It was the Frick Fracks who suggested the additional vocal harmony at the end, which made the whole thing.

    Check out The Frick Fracks – Parallel (Music Video)

    Chasing Cars

    This is a very sad song about a sad day and a sad event. It’s about death — I witnessed the hit-and-run death of a small dog, which in hindsight followed what was essentially the death of a relationship. I didn’t even realize it when I wrote it.

    The events unfolded like this: I went to visit the gal I was seeing at the time and everything just felt off, the way it does sometimes toward the end. We hadn’t spelled anything out, just had a detached and awkward meeting. When I was saying my goodbyes at her front door I heard a commotion down the street. She had told me previously about a neighbor’s dog that would roam the street and come visit with her and her grandma on occasion. Across many visits I had never actually seen the dog — until this day.

    I walked out and looked down the road. I could see the dog lying in the street and an SUV driving off. I walked up the road and as I got closer I could see he was still moving slightly. He was a small dog, some type of terrier mix. I knelt down and said something to him and he let out his last exhale. I looked over to my right and a young woman was walking out of a house looking concerned. I asked if it was her dog. She said no, he’s my uncle’s, and asked if he was dead. I looked at him, then back to her and just shook my head.

    It was just a day or two later that I wrote this song. Within a week she and I would meet again and make clear it was the end. That visit to her house was the last time I went to see her with the idea that there might be something between us. In a sense there were two deaths that day. RIP.

    I heard a screech, I heard a cry
    So I took to the street
    I saw an SUV driving
    I didn't realize
    It was a getaway

    Left behind in the road
    I saw a shape I saw a twitch, I saw a tail wag
    I rushed over but in that time
    He stiffened up, he had leaked out
    I said hello asked are you there
    But there was no response
    He had gone, he had flown

    Little dog
    Chasing cars
    Little dog chasing cars
    Til he got too close

    Saw a woman asked is he yours
    She said no he's my uncle's, sir is he dead
    I touched his head, and sadly shook my own

    Dogs chasing cars
    Dogs chasing cars
    They get so close
    Dogs chasing cars
    They will run they will bark
    Til some day they catch one
    Little dog
    Chasing cars
    He ran and he ran
    Til the day he caught one

    Flower Man

    This song was inspired and informed very much by my friend Enrique — who I will undoubtedly write several future entries about. We are from different countries, him from Spain and me from the US, and we met in Cuba, where we had an instant musical connection and began an adventurous friendship that took us across Cuba, the US, and Spain together. He is still making great music under the name Caro Raro. Check out Caro Raro – Cora De Papel (Music Video)

    The idea that initially inspired this song came from a story he told me about his childhood and his dad. He said that as a child his dad would tell him — and I’m translating from Spanish here — essentially, son, you were born with a flower in the ass. His dad said this because as a kid everybody loved him and life just seemed to work out. He was lucky from birth. There are a couple of close English expressions — your shit don’t stink, sunshine coming out of your ass — though they tend to carry a more negative connotation. This was the positive take. Another expression Enrique taught me was comeflor — literally flower eater — a somewhat derogatory Spanish term for hippies. I love it. I’ve been called a hippie in a derogatory way over the years and it still happens occasionally, and I don’t mind it at all. There are much worse things to be called and much worse things to be. As an old hippie friend once told me, being a hippie is just about being free.

    Instead of writing about Enrique’s anointed childhood I wrote about my own life as a hippie — traveling with minimal worries, trusting in nature, trusting existence to provide what I need, preferring a life in nature over material pursuits and the world of man. The song becomes an account of wild animal encounters I’ve had around the world: walking amongst wild boars in the hills near Barcelona, interacting with monkeys in Costa Rica and Israel, walking up on rattlesnakes several times over the years including in Joshua Tree, feeding raccoons near Montreal — and most notably, after a long day on a beach in Puerto Rico, sitting on a blanket by the shoreline playing guitar when a sea turtle appeared next to me, stopped for a moment, then made its way up the sand to nest and back to sea when it was done. That whole saga deserves its own entry.

    And so if I’m a comeflor, if some people look down on my lifestyle, my lack of grooming or presentation or status — you can call me a hippie, you can say I was born with a flower in the ass, and I will laugh.

    This basically became the anthem of my life as a traveling hippie, and it became a staple in The Planet Of live performances — providing a more chill departure from the otherwise high energy rock sets. The live arrangement was extended for a tasty guitar solo from Kevin Miller. Soon I’ll share a live take alongside the original demo.

    Flower Man (Original Demo)

    Flower Man (Live with The Planet Of)

    NEED TO FIND IT!

    Some say I was born with a flower in the ass
    I laugh 'cause I know just what they are getting at

    I've been broke I've been traveling the world
    I'm still broke still traveling home
    With or without coin, just a flower in the ass
    I will keep my cool to sip the water from gas
    With or without shelter I sleep well
    With or without certainty I trust in nature
    I know she will protect wherever I go
    I know she will provide if I'm immersed in flow

    I don't worry, I don't sweat
    The littlest things

    I can't say I'm a fan of the world of man
    The endless quest for power and hunt for paper
    I dropped out of the race, I won't play it safe
    I'd rather chase the happiness I find in nature

    I'm not worried, I won't sweat
    All the littlest things

    I'm a lucky duck and a naturalist
    All my tunes make reference to the animals
    Sharks rats dogs n cats I love them so
    I could write for 30 days about the beasts that I've known

    Monkeys and raccoons who've eaten from my hand
    Wild boars I've ran with in the night
    The sea turtle that came to me playing on the beach
    Coyotes owls and rattle snakes that startled me

    Bats lizards humming birds and flower man
    Bats lizards humming birds and flower man
    Flower man
    Flower man

    Cynics In Love

    Another song that became a staple with The Planet Of — I’ll include the live arrangement alongside the original demo.

    This song had some lyrical content written over a year before the challenge, but the concept came from something I had felt in a relationship. The dynamic was this: a partner and I had built a kind of cocoon around ourselves where we would connect and indulge in shared criticism and critique of the world. It brought us closer in a way — created a sense of dependence, a safe space for vulnerability that felt closed off from the outside. It wasn’t too bad, honestly. But I recognized it wasn’t ideal for me. I want to grow in love, be more vulnerable, more open — not more sealed off.

    The song takes that dynamic and pushes it to an extreme. It’s written about a couple fully given over to this — two people who indulge so deeply in shared negativity that it becomes the thing that holds them together. I really indulged in the negativity of it. There’s more I could write about this one, but I’ll leave it here for now.

    The image that anchors the whole song came to me during a Vipassana meditation retreat — ten days of silence, no entertainment, just walking a path in the desert between meditations. One day I came upon other retreat participants gathered around something on the ground. Ants eating a bee. The bee was still alive, barely, moving in pain as it was being swarmed. The line came immediately: ants tear a writhing bee apart / that’s them / the ants their minds / and the bee their heart. I hung onto that until the retreat was over and I could write it down.

    Ants tear a writhing bee apart
    That's them
    The ants their minds
    And the bee (is) their heart
    They share the nutrients and pain
    They share the passion
    As they share the blood lust
    Like rabid beasts, two cynics in love
    They hiss and spit at anyone who comes up
    Meanwhile they sit back and watch
    With a sour spot they sit and curse the whole lot
    Misery loves company
    The worst wine is more bitter shared
    The abused become the aggressors
    These victims can't stop with each other
    On and on two pessimists in love
    They gather and laugh at how the worlds fucked
    Though they're knee deep in the shit
    They just happy, they each created half of it
    Two cynics in love, that's them
    They gather and laugh at how the worlds fucked

  • The Challenge: July 2017 Pt. 1 – Background

    In July 2017 I was living full-time at Rad Pro Studios on 123 W. D St. in Ontario, California. I had built out one of the smallest rooms in the building into my recording space – a place to practice, write and record. I slept in a long hallway in the basement, which was an echo chamber made entirely of concrete. I would drop a mattress on the floor when it was time to sleep. At one end of the corridor we had rigged up a makeshift shower – a garden hose with a drain. Rad Pro took reservations 24 hours a day and as a late night owl I was always on call, setting up and cashing out bands at any hour of the night and early morning.

    Outside the studio I was doing occasional solo and band performances and playing with my dear friends in the early days of Xinxin. In my family life there had been an upheaval. I had spent the first half of 2017 facilitating the sale of our family home and the separation of my parents – months of work on the property, selling and trashing things, moving decades of accumulated stuff out piece by piece. Four shanty dwellings my dad and I had built over the years had to be demolished. A lot of history was taken apart. I wrote about this period in the entry for Acaso.

    Through this work I ended up with some cash in my pocket, which I used to buy a laptop, interface, a couple microphones and a few other recording and music making items – all found and haggled for on OfferUp. I had gone about five years without a laptop or any means to record outside of using the Rad Pro facilities when I was in the area. Most of that time I had been on the road traveling with just a nylon guitar and eventually a very heavy resonator I bought used for $200. I had just started recording rough demos in late 2015/early 2016 on borrowed gear, and once I had my own setup I was recording every chance I had.

    By July things had settled down at the family home and my dad and I were hatching a plan to leave California and look for land in Oregon. By the first week of August we would arrive in what would become my new home. But down in California the hard work was done and the keys had been handed over to the new owners. I was waiting for the next move.

    Sometime in June I caught wind through the local music community that there was going to be a songwriting group. The goal was to write a song a day for 30 days. I was intrigued, excited and scared. Like many others I was prolific with starting songs and ideas but not very skilled with finishing them. But I was up for the challenge and the timing was just right – I was able to dedicate the month of July entirely to writing and recording every day.

    The group was hosted on Facebook and had many members – there had to have been over 30 at the start. The guidelines were laid out as such:

    “A song can be anything! The point of this is to make a habit of tuning in to the universal creative force… so do whatever you want! Just do something, and don’t judge yourself! It doesn’t matter at all if it’s good or not. It can be a completed song idea with parts, or it can just be a looped beat idea! Quality is unimportant, and collaboration is encouraged. All genres are welcome! Hip-hop, metal, ska, trippy soundscapes, funk, folk… EXPERIMENT!”

    “We’re working with this premise: Listen to the universe, come up with an idea, and get it out of you! Stop being a perfectionist! This challenge forces you to stop judging what you make. If you show up every day and write 30 songs, there’s a good chance some of them will be really great.”

    A handful of participants were peers from the Inland Empire and San Gabriel Valley music scene – people I’d played shows with, seen around the studio, had the occasional jam with. Many others I never met in person but got to know online through the challenge. The structure was simple: the first person to complete their song each day would share their link in a new post, and everyone else would reply with their own submission. If you fell behind you were invited to jump back in at any time – you’d just pick up from wherever you left off and try to catch up. By the end it came down to a hard core group of diehards, as all challenges do.

    One of those diehards was the late Chris Swanson. Chris was part of the Inland Empire scene and his songs always pushed and inspired me. He participated in 2017, 2018 and 2019 song-a-day groups. His song Woman on his final release with the band Bodegas began as a demo submitted during the 2019 challenge. He passed away in 2023. I think about him often.

    The challenge consumed my life. It was the last thing I thought about before I went to sleep and the first thing I thought about in the morning. I began to seek inspiration in everything – every conversation, every sight, every dream, every walk. I would stay up until the sun came up almost every night recording. Some nights after recording until sunrise I’d feel so inspired for the next song that I’d push through another hour or two making progress on the following day’s tune. I could barely sleep because I was so excited to continue.

    One morning I fell asleep around 7 AM after recording and woke up to the lights coming on – one of the other residents was starting his day and needed the shower. I pulled the blanket over my head and told him to go for it. I couldn’t imagine getting up at that point. A few hours later when I woke up, I got right back to the challenge.

    The philosophy that unlocked during that month was simple: good enough. Previously if I didn’t have the perfect line or the perfect riff I would hit a wall, put a song down, maybe never pick it up again. The challenge changed that. There was a huge sense of urgency. I started to realize I couldn’t always finish a song in one day – I could, but I was getting so into the arrangements and the recording process that I wanted more time with a piece. So I decided that every day I would start something and finish something. I wouldn’t always finish what I started that same day, but every song I finished that month began during the challenge. I would record a guitar part to the point it was good enough and move on. The lyrics would get to the point of good enough and I’d move on. Keep moving. Keep writing. Onto the next section, onto the next instrument, and when I got to the end – good enough. Submit it and start mining for the next song. It was the only way to stay on top of the wave.

    I was mind blown by people like Chris who were able to balance their busy schedules and still put songs out day after day. I had almost nothing but time and I was barely holding my life together outside the challenge. Others were banging them and making it look easy. This type of communal effort really boosts the accountability and inspiration.

    In the end I wrote 26 songs that month. Some never went anywhere and I’m happy they exist as what they are. Others found new life – Forty Thousand Spirits, Flower Man, Don’t Talk To Me About Pizza, Tinder Babies, Cynics In Love and Following became live staples with The Planet Of, with Tinder Babies being a fan favorite. This was the challenge that brought the most significant breakthroughs in my writing and process. It ushered in the last decade of writing, which has been the most prolific time of my life- so far.

    July 2017 Part 2 & 3 will contain the stories behind these songs

    • Ten To One
    • Following
    • Will Hide
    • Bad Kitty
    • Young Love
    • Insomniac Stupor Rag
    • Sister
    • The Witch & The Wizard
    • Sharks Not Sharks
      • Bar Rats
      • Chasing Cars
      • Flower Man
      • Cynics In Love
      • No Body
      • Tinder Babies
      • The Challenge
      • Elemental
      • Where The People At?
      • Clip Show
      • Don’t Talk To Me About Pizza
      • Face Stealer
      • Forty Thousand Spirits
      • Hicks
      • Unplugged
      • Expressing Frustration At Soundcloud
      • Destination Fever

    1. Body

      This song began on February 2, 2025, the second day of FAWM – February Album Writing Month, a worldwide challenge to write a song every other day totaling fourteen songs by the end of the month. I had just rediscovered fawm.org when signing up and found that I already had an account from 2015. Here I was nearly ten years later attempting it for the first time.

      I was traveling by van in Tasmania. I drove out to stay the night near a small town called Evandale, where I was going to meet an artist named Kier Stevens for an interview the next morning. I found a lot near a small river where people camp their RVs overnight. I got there, walked my things out to a little gazebo and made myself a camp meal – lentils, rice and tuna, pretty standard camp cooking throughout my time in Tassie. Afterwards I took a seat at the edge of the gazebo facing out towards the road, played guitar on my camp chair and watched the sunset. The melodies and words came all at once. By the time the sun went down I had worked out the changes, melodies and most of the words.

      The next day I did the interview with Kier in the park. On the fourth I recorded the original demo – I was staying with my good friend Josh, who rented a room with two beds at a little bed and breakfast up in Ulverstone on the north coast of Tassie. While he was off working during the day I set up and recorded the demo in the room, playing his 1950s jazz guitar and trying not to sing too loudly.

      Original Demo:

      The most recent demo came at the end of that visit, already into March. The bones are from the original but if you listen to them back to back you’ll hear some differences – new layers, new vocal takes, guitars, programmed parts, percussion, drums, synthesizers. Most of what came after the Ulverstone recording was done in the van, most of it in one very cold night where I felt a massive burst of inspiration and stayed up till the sun came up just working on this tune. It was too cold to play guitar so any ideas that came into my head I would program with the keyboard on my laptop. By the time I was done, the sun had risen so ferociously hot that I couldn’t sleep! That was rough on the body. The most recent mix was done on the plane flying over the Pacific in the middle of March on my way back to the US.

      I wasn’t able to balance the FAWM challenge with traveling, living out of the van, doing interviews and gigs and other recordings. All in all I think I only wrote three songs that month. This was the first and the best of them.

      The song is about something I was feeling at the time – that I needed to get more into my body. It’s been a lifelong pattern for me to spend so much of my time either focused on external activities and pursuits or otherwise internal. I am a very mental person. I spend a lot of time in my thoughts. At times I feel like my body just hangs from my head. I take care of it with basic maintenance, I try to eat well and sleep when I can, but the serious thoughtful intention I put into my body is a fraction of what I put into my thoughts, my creative pursuits, my skills, my travels, my studies, my people and so on.

      A more specific realization at the time of writing this song was that I was coming out of a period of maybe five or six months where I was deeply concerned with mortality – exploring the philosophy around death. I read several books, listened to hours of lectures, interviews and podcasts, and wrote about half a dozen songs concerning death and mortality in one way or another. These thoughts go in waves for me, something that has come and gone since I was a child, but this was a particularly deep and productive time. I feel I managed to move the ball forward. I was sitting quite comfortably with the topic by the end of it.

      But the thing I felt most strongly by the end of it all was simply this: I possess the antidote to any concern, any worry, any fear around death. I am alive. I have a body. I am a body. All that rumination, as useful as it may be for writing songs and gaining perspective, is not really all that productive in itself. What if every hour I’ve ever spent worrying about death had been spent instead just focusing on what I can sense, on being truly alive, engaging directly with life in a visceral way, using all of me and not just the words sounding silently in my head.

      I believe my death does not concern me. The only thing I should be concerned with is life. And so this song is a manifesto, a meditation, a reminder – to be present, to seek presence and stay present, to seek comfort and fullness within the body as it is. Not to get too carried away with the external or the internal dialogue.

      It’s been a year since I wrote this. I’m still largely concerned with the externals and the world of my thoughts. But I have felt much more at peace within my body in the last year. I guess the declaration stuck.


      “Body”

      I’ve been running from the void
      What did that bring?
      But sickness of mind
      And so much long lost time
      I will ditch my bags
      Try to sit still
      I’m not used to being in my body
      I’ll get used to it

      Body heals itself
      Unlike mind
      Which left unchecked grows sick with time
      And I got used to it
      Now I want peace inside

      In the body
      Coming home
      Take some time find peace inside

    2. Maytag Land

      The song was mostly composed, arranged, and recorded within my van amidst travels down to Los Angeles in February 2026.

      The song began from a Reddit prompt: “Write a song about the happy land where socks are escaping to. But try to write it in a minor key, and add some twist.”

      It’s rare that I write from a prompt but I always appreciate prompt writing for pushing me to write something that otherwise most likely never would have been considered. It provides a kind of safe distance from what I’m writing – I don’t have to feel too attached. It’s a pure creative exercise with just enough structure to give me a direction and enough flexibility to be creative within it.

      I found this particular prompt interesting and a bit curious. I struggled at first to find an approach that made sense to me. I started writing about the many socks without pairs I’ve got in a drawer and a few other things that felt too concrete. Eventually I removed myself from the story and focused instead on it being a sort of recruitment song – from the socks to the listener. As I wrote those lines I started to view them as refugees, escaping a harsh reality to a place outside of time where they will not be used and abused, ripped up, chewed up and thrown away. For the darker twist, I wrote that there’s only one way in and no way out.

      As a jumping off point I started from visualizing the laundry room at my house, which was once the studio, but now the cat room with, like the song says, litter boxes and a catio door.

      This is an example of a song where I essentially wrote most of it away from the instrument. I started with the lyrics and then began to hear them set to a melody. The majority of the melodies were composed without even touching a guitar – I sang them into a voice note while driving. It was my second night on the road, waiting out a storm near Bakersfield, where I was set up in the van working out the melodies and harmonizing them on guitar.

      I had no concrete idea for a musical arrangement at that point. I kind of imagined it being arranged for piano, or sort of toy piano – almost like a song that would be in a children’s show. But ultimately the song took on a more straightforward guitar and vocal arrangement. The melody was set before I even touched the guitar though. There are several different movements in the song and everything was driven by this changing melody.

      Here’s the response I got from the Redditor who gave me the prompt:

      “This is GREAT! Cool 70s-like sound, carefree and well-done lyrics! ‘Join us in the dryer and shut the door behind you’ 😅 And the dryer sound in the end. A fantastic choice. Thank you for making my prompt into something so nice! 😊”

      I gave them a counter prompt in return: Write a song that tells a story in reverse chronological order – starting with the end, then the middle, ending with the beginning.

      I’d like to do something with that eventually. But for now, here’s Maytag Land.

      There’s a place
      Down the hall way
      Past the litter box and catio door

      A magic space
      There’s only one way
      In and no way out

      Where all is warm
      And all is fluff
      Theres treasure there
      And softness in the air

      Everyone’s an individual
      Not a single pair
      And you can join us there

      In Maytag land
      Come join our clan
      We’ll throw a sock party for you
      Be one of us
      We are not lost
      We have each other

      Just get into the dryer
      And shut the door behind you
      Those socks, you thought were lost?
      We’ll reunite you
      The bills and coins that disappeared are waiting for you
      Your guitar pick?
      We got that too
      You can play a little doodle loo

      In Maytag land
      Come join our band
      We’ll play a sock party with you
      Be one of us
      Join our chorus
      We’ll sing together

      La la la

      In maytag land
      Time sits still
      We don’t grow old
      And don’t grow holes
      Never stepped on never trashed
      Never ripped up by the cats
      We’ve left the cold hard world behind
      And we can’t go back

      Come join us in the dryer
      And shut the door behind you

    3. Sweetheart

      Sweetheart

      Sweetheart began its life as a jumbled mess of riffs, melodies and nonsensical phrases stitched together with musical scotch tape. There were four or five sections to this piece but little intention behind the original lyrics. It didn’t go anywhere. Originally recorded in December 2024, it was almost a year later when I salvaged one guitar riff and a melody which became the jumping off point for Sweetheart.

      I went to a screening of Hayao Miyazaki’s film Howl’s Moving Castle in theaters in fall 2025. I had seen it a couple times before, but this time I was particularly captivated and the impact of the time travel elements and relationship between Howl and Sophie hit me stronger than ever before. I felt inspired to write a song about their relationship, and began writing from the perspective of Howl, beginning with the first words that Howl spoke to Sophie in the movie:

      “There you are, sweetheart. Sorry I’m late. I was looking everywhere for you”

      Directly after leaving the theater I began writing lines inspired directly from the dialogue and events of the movie. Somehow the demo I mentioned above came to my mind and I found that some of the lines seemed to land perfectly in time with the riff and fit one of the melodies of the demo – “way back in the past when I was just a boy I heard a voice that called my name.”

      From there I began working out the song at home, writing about the movie in a fun and interesting process, quite different from any other song I’ve written. I was pulling up lots of quotes and watching scenes of the movie along the way, and I even watched the movie again at home about a week after seeing it in the theater. This time I wrote down any quotes that felt significant and any notes on the events, dialogue, themes and characters in the film.

      I had so much to pull from, and I spent a couple weeks writing, and editing and writing and editing some more. Initially I wrote more exposition into the song, including more elements from the story, even referencing other characters. But in the end I wound up cutting much of what I had written, instead choosing to focus on what I felt was the most compelling part of the story – the relationship between Sophie and Howl, and the presence of magic, danger, time travel and so on in their connection. The lyrics guided the musical development and arrangement of the piece, taking a short riff and melodic motif and stretching them in many directions, bringing about whole new sections and themes that were not in the original demo. I’d say 80% or more from that original demo was scrapped or shelved, and the song turned into a much more intricate and interesting piece of music than where it began. I intend to re-record this song in a live band arrangement within the next couple months, stay tuned.

      I’m quite happy with how the song turned out. It’s a tribute to a beautiful piece of art from one of my favorite creators and film studios. All thanks and credit goes to Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli.

      “Sweetheart”


      There you are
      Sweetheart
      I’ve been
      Looking for you
      Everywhere
      Since you called
      To me
      Way back in the

      Past when I was just a boy
      I heard a voice that called my name
      You told me then
      To look for you
      I’m sorry that I took so long
      To find you
      My Sweetheart

      Too long I’ve lived heartless
      I fought and turned monstrous
      So scared I can’t stand it
      Hiding behind this magic

      I was searching for so long
      And now you’re here and you’re involved
      There is danger we’ve been cursed and you have seen me at my worst
      But you don’t flinch and you don’t scare
      I’m filled with courage when you’re there beside me
      My sweetheart

      Sweetheart
      Love of my life
      Sweetheart
      Love of my life

      I’m done running away
      I will come home to stay
      At last I’ve found someone
      Who I want to keep safe
      My sweetheart
      Love of my life

      You take my heart and feel its warmth
      You feel it flutter like a bird
      You break the spell and lift the curse
      And we are free to be together
      Sweetheart
      Love of my life
      Sweetheart
      Love of my life
      Sweetheart
      Love of my life

    4. Acaso

      Acaso

      From the March album – originally written Fall 2023

      “Acaso” came together during one of the most emotionally intensive periods of my songwriting life, built around a piece of music I’d been playing with for years. It was 2014 when I returned to the states after over a year of traveling abroad – this was a piece I’d begun playing on the road but finalized and decided to dedicate to the San Gabriel Valley suburb where I grew up. I called it “Temple City Theme.” Here’s a recording of the piece I did with my friend Stephen Reed (of the brilliant band Xinxin) on drums:

      The Songwriting Challenge

      “Acaso” was written in fall 2023 during the first round of a new songwriting group led by Tim Bulster (of Tiller of The Moon – check out The Songwriting Mind episode with this talented musician). We committed to eight weeks of writing a song per week, recording demos and sharing them with the group. This became the first of four challenges we’d complete between fall 2023 and winter 2024.

      Here’s “Acaso” as originally submitted to the song-a-week group:

      (Original demo recording)

      Back in 2017, my childhood home in Temple City had been sold and my parents separated at long last. The anchor that had tethered a broken, unhappy family was finally cut loose.

      “Acaso” became my reflection on that time and process – from a free life on the road to returning “home” to serve my family through this transition and see them through to the other side. Eventually leaving to find new homes where the search and quest to claim spaces for ourselves continues.

      Here’s the version released with the collection of songs “March” performed live in my living room.

      Video:


      The unknowns been good to me
      Much better friend than certainty
      I traveled long and I traveled far
      Found myself across the world
      Now I got a call I been waiting for
      It’s time to go back home

      Hey it’s okay
      To finish what you started
      It’s run its course
      I know we’re all exhausted
      Don’t fret we’ll be alright
      This days been coming all our lives
      No more tears no more fights
      Just step through the door
      Gotta go back home
      For the last time

      At home I got a role to play
      Our folks are going their separate ways
      It got so bad they can’t speak
      Their voices move through me
      It ain’t fun but it’s gotta get done
      If we’re gonna move on

      All packed up and I’m the last one out
      Last chord needing cutting was this house
      Where we were born where we grew old
      What stood between us and the cold
      This broken home is all we’ve ever known
      But it’s time we close the door
      We’re gonna find new homes

      Every video, every recording and every day is a fresh experiment. From the album “March 2024” available on Bandcamp and all streaming platforms. “March 2024” is a collection of songs that reflect my life and travels. Recorded across various states and continents, the sounds and images for the album cover a span of six years and 11,000 miles.
      https://linktr.ee/ericprincessdragon

    5. Gutter Baby

      In all my travels, never have I met a gnarlier bunch of traveling folks than the “gutter punks.” I once got off a bus in New Orleans and immediately got heckled by one across the street yelling, “Hippie! Give me money!” Hitchhiking around the U.S. and Canada, I met quite a few – jamming, sleeping and hanging around on the streets, trying to catch lifts along the way.

      Inspired by people I met on the street around Montreal, Humboldt & Mendocino counties, this song is an amalgamation of stories I’ve heard from these folks, some of my own experiences traveling, and some inspiration for a happy ending from someone who made it out from the streets into a “normal” life.

      My first demo for this song was completed in January 2024 as part of a song-a-week challenge. Though most of it was written then, some of the lines go back to a dusty notebook I filled around 2014-2015 when I was hitchhiking around the states real heavy. I was looking for notes for another song when I found these words. I scrapped most of what I had written then, but the core idea was there – the story of a “Gutter Baby.”

      Just a baby
      Fourteen years old
      Scared to go back home
      Take your chances
      Hiding in the streets
      And learning to survive
      Starting a new life as
      A gutter baby

      Find some punks on the street
      Who take you under their wing
      They get you high and teach you to get by and you start traveling
      In every new town new trouble with the same struggles
      You graduate from the bottle to the pipe and to the needle
      Oh gutter baby
      Gutter baby

      Gutter baby
      Rabid on the street
      How did the world forsake you
      Gutter baby
      They got you hooked
      Hooked on poison hooked on violence
      Hooked on crime giving every reason
      For them to jack you up
      Gutter baby

      The cops know just who to fuck with when they spot you on their beat
      They’ll take any excuse to pluck you off the street
      They don’t care whether they lock you up or drive you to the edge of their town
      And they know that no ones gonna trip if they beat the shit out of
      A gutter baby
      Gutter baby

      Not a baby
      You’re growing old
      With dreams of your own
      Done with trouble
      All the drugs and drama
      All the death and all the trauma

      You leave it in the past
      You’re cleaning up your act
      You’re going to be a dad
      Now you have yourself a chance
      To give a love you never had
      A baby
      Your baby

      It ain’t easy to build when you’ve been beaten down
      And thought you’d be the next young punk to end up in the ground
      You’ve been cast aside abused and brutalized and didn’t know why
      But all the pain and trouble means nothing when you look in those eyes
      And see no struggle
      No fear
      No struggle
      Just a baby