To Be Beautiful – Commentary by Billy, with notes from Mary
Side 1
To Be Beautiful:
A song written after a conversation with Matt Verta-Ray about how your life is at least partially dictated by how you look. Gorgeous people generally have a leg up, and I say that without judgment or (my usual) cynicism. The song is likewise about how so many people long to be different. What is the answer? Why, self-acceptance, of course, or failing that, death. Or maybe get some exercise. Rick insisted that we include his gong on this, so watch for it near the end.
I Don’t Know How to Love You:
Everyone falls out of love at some point, do they not? No? Well, this is a song about that moment and its aftermath, and the months, if not years of recovery, and more specifically, the small and oh so slow moments of healing. This song may be, in part, about Mary’s and my separation, because we like to keep it uncomfortable. I played an actual accordion on this, one chord at a time.
I Lost the War:
I wrote this in my head while on a trip to NYC. My girlfriend and I were down to see the Bowie exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum, and we ran into Matt Verta-Ray on Rivington Street. Matt and I talked about doing some songs together, just the two of us, and I tried to write one that might be suitable. I quickly realized that we should include it on the Madder Rose record, instead. A lot of relationships feel like war these days – not just romantic ones, but work and spiritual and financial and political and sexual ones, too. How did everyone get so angry? I’m not sure. Maybe they should listen to this song – surely that will help. Rick had been pointedly suggesting that I put more guitar on the record, so there are nine tracks of it on here. No comment from Rick, as yet. Guess I shoulda’ put ten. Matt on bass – this sounds a lot like we used to, back when we were young and new, when Melody Maker would send Everett True across the sea to ride around with us in our van.
Hang Around Awhile:
Mary wrote this one. It started out as a “chugging” rock song, but I wanted to make it atmospheric, which is my current bent. I see this as sort of a fun song. Now, I am generally opposed to fun songs (who are we, Herman’s Hermits?), but I like the way this came out. I’m not good at having fun – I don’t know what to do with my hands or face or personality. I’d rather dig a ditch than go to a club. But don’t let that stop you.
Mary's note: I had some engaging progressions that I liked, and sort of knitted them together. Lyrically: notes on a breakup, from a distance, rather than the raw beginning of the end. Ahem.
City Lights: Another one about my old friend Don Greene, who in death, has become something of a muse. A song about walking around an admittedly idealized NYC late at night, when it was still scary and demented and super-strange. The old-time, weird-looking New Yorkers mixing with the transplanted, high-concept artist types, crammed together on a rat-infested island was surreal, but ultimately no big thing. Everyone just got on with it – good fucking times. Back then we thought nothing could touch us – turns out that wasn’t entirely true. Rick’s drum entrance kind of turned this song on its head, which was fine by me.
Side 2
On Dit Adieu:
Translation – We Say Goodbye. Mary’s song. Sad. Dark. Holy Shit. This song is one of the reasons that this record is subtitled, “Pretty Songs about Death, with Noise.” Had a synth bass on it at first, but Chris livened it up with his Fender Precision Bass, one that he bought off of Tony from Pere Ubu - the band, not the play. Pere Ubu once called an album Dub Housing, which I think is an excellent title.
Mary's note: Too, too many of our sweet people have died in the last ten years. The heavy mystery of this, and the strange sad mingling of the simple and the complex, made this rumination what it became. It started as a stand-alone song, then became a part of my performance memoir "Signals," but then didn't seem right for my last "solo" album Themes from Whatever. I'm very glad it found a home here, and I think Billy created a gorgeous atmosphere.
Roses:
Mary’s song. This song contains 16 tracks of vocals. Another dark one. Such an interesting song. How much melody is too much? This much? No, we’re fine.
Mary's note: Again, just a shocking amount of death in recent years; I can't even speak about this one yet. It started as a poem expressing love and sympathy for a dear friend in mourning, which I read over a looper in my words-music residency. Billy heard it then. I didn't know what to do with it until he suggested we use it. I just opened up all over it with the voice, as you can tell, ideas swimming around. Nothing makes any sense, but I decided to let that be appropriate here.
Bye Love (Disastrous Love):
Sort of a “Don’t Be Cruel” for the languorous generation. As an adult, one should not be immature or petty during a break-up – that being said, there’s no law against it. Upon reflection, this song should be shorter – oops!
GirlGhosts3:
All synths. Same lyric as “I Don’t Know How to Love You,” but a different song, entirely. It’s called GirlGhost3 because it is part of an electronic project I do, partially inspired by the NY subway system. I like to think there are a lot of ghosts down there. I got the title when I heard my son’s then 5 year old cousin tell him about “girl ghosts” – I’ll have that, Lyndsey! Girl Ghosts1&2 came out in 2016 as a vinyl single on the Polytechnic Youth label in the UK, under my name. Roman and Lyndsey are both stunning teenagers now, by the way, so that means there is no chance whatsoever that they will read this.
Side 1
To Be Beautiful:
A song written after a conversation with Matt Verta-Ray about how your life is at least partially dictated by how you look. Gorgeous people generally have a leg up, and I say that without judgment or (my usual) cynicism. The song is likewise about how so many people long to be different. What is the answer? Why, self-acceptance, of course, or failing that, death. Or maybe get some exercise. Rick insisted that we include his gong on this, so watch for it near the end.
I Don’t Know How to Love You:
Everyone falls out of love at some point, do they not? No? Well, this is a song about that moment and its aftermath, and the months, if not years of recovery, and more specifically, the small and oh so slow moments of healing. This song may be, in part, about Mary’s and my separation, because we like to keep it uncomfortable. I played an actual accordion on this, one chord at a time.
I Lost the War:
I wrote this in my head while on a trip to NYC. My girlfriend and I were down to see the Bowie exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum, and we ran into Matt Verta-Ray on Rivington Street. Matt and I talked about doing some songs together, just the two of us, and I tried to write one that might be suitable. I quickly realized that we should include it on the Madder Rose record, instead. A lot of relationships feel like war these days – not just romantic ones, but work and spiritual and financial and political and sexual ones, too. How did everyone get so angry? I’m not sure. Maybe they should listen to this song – surely that will help. Rick had been pointedly suggesting that I put more guitar on the record, so there are nine tracks of it on here. No comment from Rick, as yet. Guess I shoulda’ put ten. Matt on bass – this sounds a lot like we used to, back when we were young and new, when Melody Maker would send Everett True across the sea to ride around with us in our van.
Hang Around Awhile:
Mary wrote this one. It started out as a “chugging” rock song, but I wanted to make it atmospheric, which is my current bent. I see this as sort of a fun song. Now, I am generally opposed to fun songs (who are we, Herman’s Hermits?), but I like the way this came out. I’m not good at having fun – I don’t know what to do with my hands or face or personality. I’d rather dig a ditch than go to a club. But don’t let that stop you.
Mary's note: I had some engaging progressions that I liked, and sort of knitted them together. Lyrically: notes on a breakup, from a distance, rather than the raw beginning of the end. Ahem.
City Lights: Another one about my old friend Don Greene, who in death, has become something of a muse. A song about walking around an admittedly idealized NYC late at night, when it was still scary and demented and super-strange. The old-time, weird-looking New Yorkers mixing with the transplanted, high-concept artist types, crammed together on a rat-infested island was surreal, but ultimately no big thing. Everyone just got on with it – good fucking times. Back then we thought nothing could touch us – turns out that wasn’t entirely true. Rick’s drum entrance kind of turned this song on its head, which was fine by me.
Side 2
On Dit Adieu:
Translation – We Say Goodbye. Mary’s song. Sad. Dark. Holy Shit. This song is one of the reasons that this record is subtitled, “Pretty Songs about Death, with Noise.” Had a synth bass on it at first, but Chris livened it up with his Fender Precision Bass, one that he bought off of Tony from Pere Ubu - the band, not the play. Pere Ubu once called an album Dub Housing, which I think is an excellent title.
Mary's note: Too, too many of our sweet people have died in the last ten years. The heavy mystery of this, and the strange sad mingling of the simple and the complex, made this rumination what it became. It started as a stand-alone song, then became a part of my performance memoir "Signals," but then didn't seem right for my last "solo" album Themes from Whatever. I'm very glad it found a home here, and I think Billy created a gorgeous atmosphere.
Roses:
Mary’s song. This song contains 16 tracks of vocals. Another dark one. Such an interesting song. How much melody is too much? This much? No, we’re fine.
Mary's note: Again, just a shocking amount of death in recent years; I can't even speak about this one yet. It started as a poem expressing love and sympathy for a dear friend in mourning, which I read over a looper in my words-music residency. Billy heard it then. I didn't know what to do with it until he suggested we use it. I just opened up all over it with the voice, as you can tell, ideas swimming around. Nothing makes any sense, but I decided to let that be appropriate here.
Bye Love (Disastrous Love):
Sort of a “Don’t Be Cruel” for the languorous generation. As an adult, one should not be immature or petty during a break-up – that being said, there’s no law against it. Upon reflection, this song should be shorter – oops!
GirlGhosts3:
All synths. Same lyric as “I Don’t Know How to Love You,” but a different song, entirely. It’s called GirlGhost3 because it is part of an electronic project I do, partially inspired by the NY subway system. I like to think there are a lot of ghosts down there. I got the title when I heard my son’s then 5 year old cousin tell him about “girl ghosts” – I’ll have that, Lyndsey! Girl Ghosts1&2 came out in 2016 as a vinyl single on the Polytechnic Youth label in the UK, under my name. Roman and Lyndsey are both stunning teenagers now, by the way, so that means there is no chance whatsoever that they will read this.