Podcasts about songwriting

@molowda is in the house this week, and I talk to Indie-rock legends Jordan Caiola and Kirby Sybert in this epic interview filled with tons of laughs, loads of fun and awesome insights into this truly unique band from Philadelphia. Mo Lowda & The Humble's brand new album, Tailing the Ghost, is out there now and it's a total banger. One of my favorite bands, these guys totally bring it for this one — recorded live in multiple locations around the country for a super unique sound and that stellar Mo Lowda vibe!!  My pals Jordan and Kirby talk to me about the album creation process and they share with me their philosophy on art, self-actualization, their killer live shows, and the giant benefits of ignoring that monster called “self-doubt.”  These boys have the sauce, and they're here to talk to me about it.  -----------------------------------Show Notes:Click here for Mo Lowda Fall Tour datesCheck out Mo Lowda's latest album, Tailing the Ghost!!  Follow Roadcase on Instagram here:  @Roadcasepod---------------------------------Episode Chapters:00:00 Episode Intro with Host Josh Rosenberg04:20 Introduction and Catchphrases 07:04 Creative Process Behind the New Album10:13 Recording Locations and Collaboration13:06 The Journey of Song Selection15:60 The Importance of Intentionality in Music19:11 Current Events and Upcoming Tours22:11 Festival Experiences and Reflections25:09 Nantucket Shows and Family Connections26:25 Nantucket: A Unique Community Experience29:02 The New England Vibe: Identity and Architecture29:36 Streaming Success: The Impact of New Music32:52 Album Production: The Creative Process45:57 Translating Studio Sound to Live Performance48:58 Crafting the Perfect Sound50:13 The Power of Live Performance51:30 Solo Album Spotlight52:55 The Connection with the Audience56:48 The Evolution of Indie Success01:00:59 The Value of Independence01:05:43 Preparing for the Fall Tour01:07:45 Closing Thoughts and Future Plans01:09:30 Episode Wrap-up and Final Thoughts with Host Josh RosenbergFor more information on Roadcase:https://linktr.ee/roadcasepod and https://www.roadcasepod.comOr contact Roadcase by email:  info@roadcasepod.comRoadcase theme music:  "Eugene (Instrumental)" by Waltzer

***SID STRATTON TOURING RIGHT NOW -- CLICK HERE FOR DATES***Ryan and Sid from SID STRATTON stop in to give us a much needed dose of METAL! If you're still buzzing from that last Ozzy show...I'm right there with you, and this is the perfect remedy for that!In this episode, we discuss the Florida scene vs. California scene, misconceptions about metalheads, the main goals for touring these days, favorite song off the latest record, the difference in songwriting from the debut record, how Ozzy is the GOAT, and how metal is nothing more than "evil" theatrics & fun.Follow Sid Stratton on INSTAGRAM, YOUTUBE & SPOTIFY and get their tunes on BANDCAMP.➤PLAYLIST:1. Ashes to Diamonds - Sid Stratton2. Censored - Sid Stratton3. Let Sleeping Corpses Jive (ft. Dan Sugarman) - Sid Stratton➤SUPPORT ME:⭐*SUBSCRIBE TO PODCAST ON YOUTUBE*⭐✍️ LEAVE A REVIEW & FOLLOW ON OTHER PODCAST PLATFORMS!⭐*CHECK OUT MY MENTORSHIP*⭐➤I ENDORSE:🎥 LIVE RECORD WITH CART_MUSIC IN PHILLY🛹 HELP LURKING CLASS SKATE SHOP (aka Best Music Scene RN)➤MY AFFILIATES:💪 JOIN PLANET FITNESS FOR $1📶 $20 OFF VISIBLE PHONE PLAN [Code 3RV7LB2]♨️ STEAM UP IN A SAUNABOX

Rock & Roll Hall of Famer Dave Mason chats about his early days in Traffic, writing the classic "Feelin' Alright?", working with Delaney & Bonnie, and so much more. PART ONEScott and Paul chat about Dave Mason's unique role in the rock & roll pantheon.PART TWOOur in-depth conversation with Dave Mason.ABOUT DAVE MASONAfter recording background vocals with The Spencer Davis Group on such hits as "Gimme Some Lovin'" and "I'm a Man," Dave Mason became a founding member of the British rock group Traffic alongside Steve Winwood, Jim Capaldi, and Chris Wood. He wrote some of the band's best-known songs, including “Hole in My Shoe” and “Feelin' Alright?” which went on to be covered in a memorable version by Joe Cocker. After touring and recording with Delaney & Bonnie (who recorded Dave's song “Only You Know and I Know”), he joined an early version of Eric Clapton's Derek & The Dominos. Dave soon left to pursue a solo career, beginning with the Alone Together album. He has released three Gold-certified solo albums and one Platinum album, Let It Flow, which featured the hit “We Just Disagree.” In addition to his solo releases and a duet album with Mama Cass Elliot, Dave has appeared on such legendary recordings as “Street Fighting Man” by the Rolling Stones, “All Along the Watchtower” by Jimi Hendrix, “Listen to What the Man Said” by Paul McCartney and Wings, as well as George Harrison's All Things Must Pass album. In the 1990s Dave spent time as a member of Fleetwood Mac, contributing original songs to the band's Time album in 1995. He has recorded with Michael Jackson, Graham Nash, Stephen Stills, Donovan, Phoebe Snow, and many others. Dave was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame as a member of Traffic and, in 2024, published his memoir, Only You Know and I Know. 

Ever wonder how songs are written, what makes a song a hit, or what it would take to write a song yourself? In this episode, songwriter and author Mike Errico pulls back the curtain on the songwriting process, blending humor, neuroscience, and practical tips from his book Music, Lyrics, and Life. Whether you're a musician, a music lover, or just curious about the magic behind your favorite tunes, you'll gain a deeper appreciation for what makes a song resonate – and maybe even feel inspired to write one yourself. Links and notes related to this episode can be found at https://mpetersonmusic.com/podcast/episode213 Connect with us: Newsletter: https://mpetersonmusic.com/subscribe Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EnhanceLifeMusic/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/enhancelifemusic/ LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/mpetersonpiano/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/musicenhances Sponsorship information: https://mpetersonmusic.com/podcast/sponsor Leave us a review on Podchaser.com! https://www.podchaser.com/podcasts/enhance-life-with-music-909096 In-episode promo:  Sheet Music Direct https://www.sheetmusicdirect.com Living Well with Dr. Michelle or use Coupon Code musicenhances10 for 10% off. (Or buy on Amazon.)  

Write better songs faster! Clay & Marty's 10-day video series will help you level-up your songs and finish them faster. CLICK HERE to begin!  SongTown Press Books:Mastering Melody Writing : Check It OutSong Building: Mastering Lyric Writing : Check It OutThe Songwriter's Guide To Mastering Co-Writing : Check It Out Hosts: Clay Mills : Facebook   :   InstagramMarty Dodson :   Facebook   :   Instagram SongTown on Songwriting Podcast, Powered by Sweetwater.com - The best place for musical gear on the planet! For advertising opportunities, email kristine@songtown.com

01:02 – How did Dave Cohen get started, and what was his path from Canada to Nashville?05:42 – When did Dave shift from being a session player to also producing and writing?09:25 – What did Dave learn working under producer Joey Moi, and how did it shape his career?12:29 – What drives Dave to keep evolving creatively instead of getting complacent?14:34 – What are essential skills for someone wanting to become a producer today?17:26 – Does Dave mentor others, and what advice does he give to up-and-coming musicians and producers? The AIMP Nashville Pubcast is a DiMe Collective Production

In this episode of The When Words Fail Music Speaks Podcast, host James Cox interviews Robin Jackson, a talented musician and new dad from Portland, Oregon. They discuss the impact of fatherhood on songwriting, the inspiration behind Robin's music, and his experiences with various bands. Robin shares insights into his journey as a musician, the importance of creating space for inspiration, and his involvement in the Songwriter Soiree community.Key Topics:The influence of fatherhood on Robin's songwritingRobin's background in ethnomusicology and its impact on his musicThe formation and experiences with bands like March 4th and Vagabond OperaThe Songwriter Soiree: A supportive community for songwriters of all levelsRobin's collaboration with artists like Reggie WattsThe vibrant music and creative scene in Portland, OregonRobin's latest album, "Silver Lining," and his approach to releasing musicGuest Information:Name: Robin JacksonLocation: Portland, OregonWebsite: songwritersoiree.comSocial Media: TikTok, YouTube, Facebook, InstagramMusic Featured:"October Rain" from the album "Dust Stars"Latest album: "Silver Lining" (2025)Connect with Us:Follow us on social media for updates and more inspiring content.Visit our website for more episodes and information.Closing Remarks:Thank you for tuning in to this episode of The When Words Fail Music Speaks Podcast. Remember, when words fail, music speaks. Join us next time for more inspiring conversations and musical journeys.

In this episode of the Late for Band Practice podcast, hosts Kyle and Shane attempt their first interview, introducing the band Check Online. The conversation flows from nostalgic memories of Shane and Kyle's early music days to the dynamics of band relationships and the importance of drumming. They all discuss the evolution of music production, the significance of physical music formats, and the creative process behind songwriting, highlighting the influences that shape their musical journeys. The band discusses reviving the importance of CDs and the ownership therein, the importance of live music in a digital age, and the emotional connection to music ownership. They explore recording techniques, the significance of timing in music production, and the punk spirit of authenticity. The conversation also touches on inspiring the next generation of musicians, the live experience, and the balance between technology and authenticity in the future of music.

“The Golden Rule” I finally did it. I finally set my house on fire. You don't know. I've lived there two years; I just now did it. This amazes me that just how. Here's how it happened. So I'm in my kitchen, cooking. I just worked out for like, three hours so I'm cooking everything. Everything. I put the soup on, but by the end of the workout, I'm not sure the soup is going to be enough. So, I thought to myself, “You know what, I'm going to make some tortilla chips” A few days before I made the dopest salsa. I couldn't get enough of it. It was the best salsa ever. I was like “gosh” so every day, Tacos for three days, Just to put the salsa on top, And on the fourth day, I'm like “Nah, soup.” So, I put the soup on and I go workout, But the soup, you see has roasted vegetables in in, You know? So what I had done was, I had roasted the vegetables on a pan, but the pan is a little worn, so i put them on parchment paper… … Yeah, but here's what really happened, Is I took the vegetables off of the roasting pan, and I was about to throw away the parchment paper, And I thought “Wait. No! There's still so much oil on this!” And I didn't want to be wasteful. So I turned the oven back on, And I took out the tortillas I had— There were four of them— I took out two, Just in case I wanted two actual tacos later— Cause you know, I really love this fucking salsa. So good. Anyway— I take out two of the four tortillas, And I quarter them, And I flip them in the leftover oil from the roasted vegetables, And I'm thinking— This is going to be so good Roasted vegetable flavored Corn tortilla chips— I brush on a little bit of coconut oil, I drop some lemon juice on them, I put on a little salt— And I put them in the oven— I turn the oven to broil, And then I start the dishes; Dishes takes about ten minutes, This should take about ten minutes— So I start doing the dishes, And cleaning up, And putting them away, And this is the most ironic shit in the world, I start thinking to myself Particularly about this comedian that I like And I start thinking to myself “Wow, so you're a comedian; Comedian things happen to you; You're a real comedian. I must not be a real comedian— Because comedy things don't happen to me.” And right at that moment, I just so happen to look into the oven, And all I see is flames. Like, open flames. Big, flames. So I open the oven; More flames. I'm like “Oh no.” So now I'm panicking because I've never had an apartment with a gas stove before, So I don't know how quickly flames turn into massive explosions. And it's honestly funny how suicidal I am, Until I see open flames and I'm like “No, but— not like THIS!” So I freak out, I hit the breaker. I turn off everything in the place I'm not looking to see which switch is “gas” I turned turned them all off, Click, click, click, click Put on my slip ons, and grab my phone and I'm out the door. And I'm thinking to myself “See this is why you need a phone,” Because honestly sometimes, I don't feel like paying the bill. I feel like having toilet paper, Or soap, Or water— And I just “Whatever” But lately, I've been looking for more work because I like having toilet paper, and soap, and water AND a phone— so I keep the phone on, Which, even in the moment is like “Oh yeah, wow, I have a phone” Like I'm in astonishment at how handy it is because if it's handy for anything, This is it. So I'm out the door, and I'm dialing 911 as I hit the staircase; Whoosh, I'm out the door and in the long before the operator even picks up, And I'm in the lobby, on the phone, and the operator gets the address and I'm just standing there — Mind you, I didn't even grab my keys on the way out, so I'm assuming the door is locked, And I think to myself about the size of the flames and the fact that they were coming from the oven which is connected to a gas line which is connected to the rest of the building, so I don't know how any of that stuff works, And then I start thinking. “Should I warn my neighbors?” I hate my neighbors. Or rather, My neighbors hate me. But I'm thinking of the flames and the smoke and the danger and how, if it was me, I'd want to know if the apartment next door to mine was on fire and possibly about to explode. You know; the golden rule. So I'm like “fuck it” I don't get along with these people but I don't mean to blow them up. So I run back upstairs, And I knock on their doors; Not everyone's doors, just the two doors in what I assume would be the blast area. I knock on their doors, And only one of them answers— The one that answers is, of course, The one that's been stalking me. So this is ironic at least twice, now, And she answers the door, And I explain to her the situation “Look, my apartment's on fire whatever The fire department's on the way, I'm locked out…” As I turn the knob, I realize, I'm not locked out. My door didn't even lock, I didn't notice it didn't lock, I just ran, So I'm like “Nevermind I just wanted you to know the fire departments on the way and not to panic” And she just gives me this look With her wombat face —she has wombat face. She looks like a— Like a rabid wombat. Like a— Like a really fucked up, Possum. Like a wombat-possum. And we've been having some—problems. She's my stalker. She's been stalking me; And I've noticed so, It's really awkward that I'm at her door warning her like “hey, don't freak out or anything, the fire department's coming by” And she just looks at me with those beady little eyes and a shrug that tells me If her apartment was about to explode She'd just let me incinerate. , “Whatever, fuck you.” I know I'm a good person, Cause I would want to know— so I let you know There may be danger here! Whatever. So she's like “whatever”, and shuts the door like a normal, sane person Cause my problem with her is that For the past year Every time I take a bath or shower, This wombat looking rabid possum bitch Slams the door. Not just her door, The stairwell exit door, Which is located adjacent to my door. So every time I take a bath for the last year— BOOM. BOOM. Fuck that. Theres's more to the story but you get the point. She's a white supremacist wombat with a door slamming habit. That's that story, this is another story. So anyway. And I just realized, I'm not locked out at all, and so I go back into the apartment not knowing if it contained itself, or if it got worse— I don't know, the whole place is just filled with smoke, and then the super, Who I also called and also don't like, Shows up before the fire department, And he comes in, and he opens the oven, and just— Plumes of smoke— Then the fire dudes rush in, I'm like, “Oh God” I just worked out for three hours and looked wombat girl right in the face, Like, right in the eyes Now I probably look like a wombat That shit is contagious, Fuck that. “”let me put on some sunglasses” So I put on some sunglasses, And three fire dudes walk in in full gear with canisters and shit, Masks; The whole thing. But the super already opened the oven, There's no more flames, No more fire, Just smoke— And a bunch of mad crispy Ashes. No tortilla chips, Just— Ashes, on a cookie sheet. Just— Ashes, But still, smoke everywhere so they have to follow the procedure, And the procedure is, Moving all my shit by dragging it across the floor; Ok, that's cool, I guess, Boom. One of them starts running water down the sink, Alright, Another one just rips down the curtains. I'm like “That's hot.” (It was so hot) Slides back the couch, opens the window. I'm astonished that something as simple as a man pulling down your curtain rod with no regards to giving a fuck can be so exhilirating. I'm like “oh!” Then after all that, They're just standing there. Just, In full gear, Looking at the oven like “Well, that's it.” They're like “K. Bye.” I'm like “that's it?” They're like “Yeah” I'm like l, “I don't need to do anything?” They're like “Just open the window, keep the door open till the smoke comes out” I'm like “that's all” They're like “yeah” I'm like “my bad.” They all just shrug like “whatever” Like, in unison, shrugging like to give no fucks at all, Still in full gear. The only thing I can be sure of is that all three of them are hot and if the super wasn't there, I'd inidiate a gangbang. Almost positive. But five's a crowd, or whatever, so I'm like “Well, thanks guys, sorry about that” and they all just leave, almost disappointed like there wasn't a burning building to actually show up to. I'm just relieved I didn't explode and the solace I can take from this is that I'm a good person. my neighbor is stalking me cause she has NOTHING ELSE to do. That bitch was AT the door, never leaves. She's miserable. She looks like a wombat And 3. Three firefighters entered and exited the apartment head to toe in full gear with heavy ass metal canisters and did not slam a single door. FUCK YOU HOE. Very respectful servicemen. I had called the landlord about her harassing me in the shower and the bathtub. You know she's doing it every bath and every shower for over a year she's doing it on purposes I started making formal complaints; The property management's like “Are you sure she's doing it on purpose?” THREE Fully grown men decked head to toe in full fireproof outfits, helmets, and masks entered and exited the building on one day and in ten minutes more quietly than she has at any given point over the last year. THREE FULLY GROWN MEN. WITH CANISTERS. If they can enter and exit with less noise than a 150 lb wombat— She's doing it on purpose. End of story. Well, end of that story, Or like two stories but Here's the end of this one. So finally after the dust settles And I hit the gym again Because nothing is a better preworkout Than adrenialine, (Especially when you've already had preworkout) I come back and now I'm extra famished and the Amazon guy came in all that fuss And now I have canola oils So I've been soaking some potato wedges And I decide, “Hey, I got wedges. Let's do that” So I heat the oil, and as I'm heating the oil, I realize… I still have two tortillas. Maybe that was the whole point! I'm being a pussy, making tortilla chips, In the oven, on parchment paper, Like a little bitch! So I'm like “Alright, cool, When these wedges are done, the oil should be the perfect temperature for the tortilla chips To be made the old fashioned way The RIGHT way!” So I wait, I do the wedges, and I drop the tortillas, And I wait for them to get golden brown, I drain the oil, I put them out to cool; I do the dishes while they cool, whatever, I grab the salsa container out of the fridge, I take the bowl into the studio so I can watch YouTube while I enjoy my chips, I plop down, Turn on the you tube I open the salsa container— And it's empty. There's no more salsa. I put the container in the fridge empty. Silly me. “You're a comedian, comedy things happen to you.” Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to I won't got no business in the business I unplug the plug because I'm finish Just because my skin they think I'm niggas But that disrespect because I isn't You disrespected me Put the emphasis in neglect Synthesis? Sympathies Put some respect on my name Before I put some facts in these flames Making me famous But you don't play me Picking up packages Trying to play me I am the president bitch Not the lady Okay Scratch my back With a metal spatula Take a step back, this is not your world Take a step back While I skip forward This is snitch territory; You should be very aware of me Beware If that's didn't scare you Just stay right there I'm in weight class: BEAR Flying first class air with howling thunderous winds and much hacking, “TIMOTHY THE GIANT CAT” dislodges a Omg dislodges a what? I have no idea that's all that was there. omg. My mother must've known something about me I couldn't have; My mother must have given me her monster But this monster knows better. Even just the profile is an irritant for now; Unsure, meditterenian, Overgrown pantheons turned to ruins What happened was harder, Turbulence I've been good, Golden even But this computer wants me gone And now, Aggravated Assault with a program Who would have thought the forth world war would be fought With our own thoughts? No one. Hm. Even just a glimpse and imm angrier than I've ever been. Still something creeps like the Harvard doctor Or the burning fire Or the flicker of just a thought A meadowlark and still Vines at the bottom of the spring In the pantheon Rhythms and rythms and Now I remember why were blowing up the counterparts Shut up, And pay your taxes Nothing to see here, bottoms up. But it's only 9 and half a clock Remember Sonny, would ya Now we're all obscure in the shadowbox Fix you up a seller Shortly temple soda Surely something lingers Sure enough The forest, And the father And the omen And the harpist And the seeker And the shadow And the wonder And the alter Therefore, Who art thou Therefore, who, Arthur What a wonderful tragedy, Mr. Lin He said, “I thought you'd though so” I say, “Prayers answered and nothing less Than just in the nick of time, For nickel backs And Pennie's picked up, Now in capsules Who you are, I falter But nevertheless A songbird” What a vow, God. I try to keep my promises But my face is still wilted And awkward I take those punches Just about as well As the bag I've become Downstairs, embankments And more shadow boxes Gift, valentines And then now By Fourth of July I should be quite the disappointment To just about everyone Who even had a thought about her There are no more colors Just wounds, And salt shakers, Garlic and Slamming doors Art throbs And heart connesuiers And curators Existential crisis And inward turmoil Oil on canvas Blood spills Long before it ever boils Cauldrons Candle marks Ought, with my eye out Out, with the harpists! I put my eye on, Dose now, Flicker flames, Shadow box Goodnight drunken soldier Pity this, I want to sleep, but wither I want to weep, but am watched I must be under some kind of… Umbrella. I bust me under some kind of — Possession. I must be under surveillance The Devil's in the neighbor The proof is in the pudding I want to punch the possum Or wombat Or what you would call a rodent Dressed as some dumb girl I'm sure she gets paid by the poem To poke and prod But I've written symphonies next door While she plants the seeds of the devil's words And still tries to force conformity In a neighborhood riddled with disease Of which includes her Poor habits and lack of personality No vibration after all But I've hydrated perfectly And circumstances permit, Again, I've written symphonies and never ending sagas in the bathtub While you threaten to pull the plug And put the light out I beg you to watch me Rip my veins apart with box cutters And razorblades Then again, Probably with glee, The whites would watch Another black in agony They seem to really like that Then again The blacks, the shadows Cursed beats Seem to rip each other into pieces As if for entertainment or otherwise Watch this They seem to hate each other moredoes Anybody else actually hate them also And therefore I watch pitifully and become Respectfully disengaged As I am sorted into Creatures of the agony, abyss and wisdom old A tale as old as time and still Something forgotten, Even still It is a man's war, And us as women are just Objects, Then whatever lurks next door is more An empty body or a shell Than ever more a woman was That was my husband you stole from the office. Fucking dumb whore. Then again; What never was owned Then cannot be stolen See golden brotherhood, Crepes and popes, Sacred pipes Cerulean, And keeping her out of our concepts And gardens Planting seeds of choking mongrels And still here We dance in the meadowlarks song And the chosen fountain The blue rays of sun, And the wonder's bow and arrow Again, I call? Well, again I wake As lover does not call But yet I to answer with a song of words And heart of such A song of one to call for But nothing lays more secret then These eyes and filled with pains A wound, salted A bullet, And gillotine Ouch Get out, God. Listen, mister listen A couple hours later And my eyes are steady getting misty Filled with sweat and bears No blood yet Stings my eyes So you know I ain't been eating right And eyes o. Irish Hash and cabbage Checks to cash And slight advantage God help us all If the brim of the hat is dripping And I'm gripping these quarts as I sleep And thinking of Jimmy Croissants fresher baked in the oven Then somebody better love my son Before I go and end the world And pull the plug I ain't got nothing left for em but diamonds! I left forums unanswered I started a lot of unfinished problems But the thing is, I'm almost sure they're already solved Considering as alcoholism's a solvent It cams hurt the hard boards And mother drives The tears are filled with sweat And fountains Somebody else should call it in I'm in so much trouble with the network Thanks a lot, you algorithm fucking Cocksuck programmers Now my heart hurts And soul is vanished How hard do I have to run To go and catch her I looked 15 years into the past And found a wheeelbarrow and basket I have got to get out of here I have got to get out of here Here the coroner comes for Debbie Cadaver But I'm still her, huh Aren't I? Run! You fucking Irish bastard Perfectly tan and yet still, stark white Perfectly golden and still, I'm on numbers Perfectly parished, And still I went backwards A wedding or funeral? All catholic, no services No difference at all And still Nothings worse than Indifference I'm in so much trouble with the network Be king in the nexrophiliac And still I left the golden metropolis For nothing but a metro card and Simple segregative diversity tactics I wanted the heartland! Still, Irish bastard Wish hash and cabbage I've got to get out of here Pushing a basket Abandonment And Fatal attraction You can't sell me anything If I can't buy it Recovery day But I don't feel like it Muscles tired, I'm elastic Send them to the band camp (White lion) I'm elastic Twists and turns and I'm elastic Double up, Double up I'm elastic Twists and turns and There's vampires Don't feel like it Double up double up I'm elastic Take a lesson This is tragic Double up double up I promise, it is personal not business It's professional, no promises now On the radio tower Spread it out Or just hijinx it I mix drinks with hindsight I'm elastic Lesson learned and Twists and turns Between the fireman and the super Someone left a stench And an energy marker in my room That left me clawing at my “Do not touch” money And it hit below the belt. It was all God's comedy, But not in the least funny, I knew I didn't like the super really for whatever reason But even after he left to check the Fire defectors His stench lingered over the smell of the forgotten smoke And I woke up from a nightmare As if I'd lost control When normally, I know imm dreaming with Enough time to change things Before they spiral out of control— And the worst part, I didn't remember the dream at all besides Waking up, finally at the end Realizing it was a dream and telling myself It was okay, because now I could just wake up But it wasn't okay, and I blamed the super And whatever he brought with him For lingering in my space Which didn't really feel like mine anymore, anyways, Because the neighbor was evil as they come And they were always playing mind games in the building And the motorcycles And really I deserved better But I couldn't afford it And because I couldn't afford it The demons were always lurking Trying to penetrate my space And they did, that day And it was God's comedy But it wasn't funny And it lingered And the nightmares And the motorcycles was a years long nightmare indeed And hey, At least I got some new music. I realized my show might be the only place my “remixes” might ever see the light of day or have ears other than mine; I couldn't afford the permissions and licenses for most of the music I wanted to remix— nor did I have the energy or the funds to secure the means to come across them. And so, it might have been a good idea to start working; I emptied my bank accounts with intention, with a kind of understanding that it didn't matter at all anyway. Kind of nothing mattered, because there was no real money involved— and I had, in fact stumbled upon the opportunity in a suicidal spiral of desperation, being somewhat hopelessly lost at random in what I thought was Williamsburg; it wasn't, I had apparently walked around Brooklyn in an extremely large loop for about an hour before I realized I might be going in the wrong direction because I couldn't see Manhattan anymore, I didn't care. It was probably 77 or something degrees but with the New York humidity it felt like 90, and I was wearing a head to toe full body sauna suit trying to recover from the end of the month's rations of beans, rice, and literally whatever the fuck I really wanted, because it was really also whatever the fuck I could afford without running out of food for the month before my card reloaded. Thinking I should just die, and in the same very moment stumbling across an opportunity that wasn't nessarily a job, but could easily lead to one— and so, after paying my internet bill, I plunged and poured nearly every last cent I had left over Into what? Idk it just ends there. Goddamnit. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to I won't got no business in the business I unplug the plug because I'm finish Just because my skin they think I'm niggas But that disrespect because I isn't You disrespected me Put the emphasis in neglect Synthesis? Sympathies Put some respect on my name Before I put some facts in these flames Making me famous But you don't play me Picking up packages Trying to play me I am the president bitch Not the lady Okay Scratch my back With a metal spatula Take a step back, this is not your world Take a step back While I skip forward This is snitch territory; You should be very aware of me Beware If that's didn't scare you Just stay right there I'm in weight class: BEAR Flying first class air with howling thunderous winds and much hacking, “TIMOTHY THE GIANT CAT” dislodges a Omg dislodges a what? I have no idea that's all that was there. omg. My mother must've known something about me I couldn't have; My mother must have given me her monster But this monster knows better. Even just the profile is an irritant for now; Unsure, meditterenian, Overgrown pantheons turned to ruins What happened was harder, Turbulence I've been good, Golden even But this computer wants me gone And now, Aggravated Assault with a program Who would have thought the forth world war would be fought With our own thoughts? No one. Hm. Even just a glimpse and imm angrier than I've ever been. Still something creeps like the Harvard doctor Or the burning fire Or the flicker of just a thought A meadowlark and still Vines at the bottom of the spring In the pantheon Rhythms and rythms and Now I remember why were blowing up the counterparts Shut up, And pay your taxes Nothing to see here, bottoms up. But it's only 9 and half a clock Remember Sonny, would ya Now we're all obscure in the shadowbox Fix you up a seller Shortly temple soda Surely something lingers Sure enough The forest, And the father And the omen And the harpist And the seeker And the shadow And the wonder And the alter Therefore, Who art thou Therefore, who, Arthur What a wonderful tragedy, Mr. Lin He said, “I thought you'd though so” I say, “Prayers answered and nothing less Than just in the nick of time, For nickel backs And Pennie's picked up, Now in capsules Who you are, I falter But nevertheless A songbird” What a vow, God. I try to keep my promises But my face is still wilted And awkward I take those punches Just about as well As the bag I've become Downstairs, embankments And more shadow boxes Gift, valentines And then now By Fourth of July I should be quite the disappointment To just about everyone Who even had a thought about her There are no more colors Just wounds, And salt shakers, Garlic and Slamming doors Art throbs And heart connesuiers And curators Existential crisis And inward turmoil Oil on canvas Blood spills Long before it ever boils Cauldrons Candle marks Ought, with my eye out Out, with the harpists! I put my eye on, Dose now, Flicker flames, Shadow box Goodnight drunken soldier Pity this, I want to sleep, but wither I want to weep, but am watched I must be under some kind of… Umbrella. I bust me under some kind of — Possession. I must be under surveillance The Devil's in the neighbor The proof is in the pudding I want to punch the possum Or wombat Or what you would call a rodent Dressed as some dumb girl I'm sure she gets paid by the poem To poke and prod But I've written symphonies next door While she plants the seeds of the devil's words And still tries to force conformity In a neighborhood riddled with disease Of which includes her Poor habits and lack of personality No vibration after all But I've hydrated perfectly And circumstances permit, Again, I've written symphonies and never ending sagas in the bathtub While you threaten to pull the plug And put the light out I beg you to watch me Rip my veins apart with box cutters And razorblades Then again, Probably with glee, The whites would watch Another black in agony They seem to really like that Then again The blacks, the shadows Cursed beats Seem to rip each other into pieces As if for entertainment or otherwise Watch this They seem to hate each other moredoes Anybody else actually hate them also And therefore I watch pitifully and become Respectfully disengaged As I am sorted into Creatures of the agony, abyss and wisdom old A tale as old as time and still Something forgotten, Even still It is a man's war, And us as women are just Objects, Then whatever lurks next door is more An empty body or a shell Than ever more a woman was That was my husband you stole from the office. Fucking dumb whore. Then again; What never was owned Then cannot be stolen See golden brotherhood, Crepes and popes, Sacred pipes Cerulean, And keeping her out of our concepts And gardens Planting seeds of choking mongrels And still here We dance in the meadowlarks song And the chosen fountain The blue rays of sun, And the wonder's bow and arrow Again, I call? Well, again I wake As lover does not call But yet I to answer with a song of words And heart of such A song of one to call for But nothing lays more secret then These eyes and filled with pains A wound, salted A bullet, And gillotine Ouch Get out, God. Listen, mister listen A couple hours later And my eyes are steady getting misty Filled with sweat and bears No blood yet Stings my eyes So you know I ain't been eating right And eyes o. Irish Hash and cabbage Checks to cash And slight advantage God help us all If the brim of the hat is dripping And I'm gripping these quarts as I sleep And thinking of Jimmy Croissants fresher baked in the oven Then somebody better love my son Before I go and end the world And pull the plug I ain't got nothing left for em but diamonds! I left forums unanswered I started a lot of unfinished problems But the thing is, I'm almost sure they're already solved Considering as alcoholism's a solvent It cams hurt the hard boards And mother drives The tears are filled with sweat And fountains Somebody else should call it in I'm in so much trouble with the network Thanks a lot, you algorithm fucking Cocksuck programmers Now my heart hurts And soul is vanished How hard do I have to run To go and catch her I looked 15 years into the past And found a wheeelbarrow and basket I have got to get out of here I have got to get out of here Here the coroner comes for Debbie Cadaver But I'm still her, huh Aren't I? Run! You fucking Irish bastard Perfectly tan and yet still, stark white Perfectly golden and still, I'm on numbers Perfectly parished, And still I went backwards A wedding or funeral? All catholic, no services No difference at all And still Nothings worse than Indifference I'm in so much trouble with the network Be king in the nexrophiliac And still I left the golden metropolis For nothing but a metro card and Simple segregative diversity tactics I wanted the heartland! Still, Irish bastard Wish hash and cabbage I've got to get out of here Pushing a basket Abandonment And Fatal attraction You can't sell me anything If I can't buy it Recovery day But I don't feel like it Muscles tired, I'm elastic Send them to the band camp (White lion) I'm elastic Twists and turns and I'm elastic Double up, Double up I'm elastic Twists and turns and There's vampires Don't feel like it Double up double up I'm elastic Take a lesson This is tragic Double up double up I promise, it is personal not business It's professional, no promises now On the radio tower Spread it out Or just hijinx it I mix drinks with hindsight I'm elastic Lesson learned and Twists and turns Between the fireman and the super Someone left a stench And an energy marker in my room That left me clawing at my “Do not touch” money And it hit below the belt. It was all God's comedy, But not in the least funny, I knew I didn't like the super really for whatever reason But even after he left to check the Fire defectors His stench lingered over the smell of the forgotten smoke And I woke up from a nightmare As if I'd lost control When normally, I know imm dreaming with Enough time to change things Before they spiral out of control— And the worst part, I didn't remember the dream at all besides Waking up, finally at the end Realizing it was a dream and telling myself It was okay, because now I could just wake up But it wasn't okay, and I blamed the super And whatever he brought with him For lingering in my space Which didn't really feel like mine anymore, anyways, Because the neighbor was evil as they come And they were always playing mind games in the building And the motorcycles And really I deserved better But I couldn't afford it And because I couldn't afford it The demons were always lurking Trying to penetrate my space And they did, that day And it was God's comedy But it wasn't funny And it lingered And the nightmares And the motorcycles was a years long nightmare indeed And hey, At least I got some new music. I realized my show might be the only place my “remixes” might ever see the light of day or have ears other than mine; I couldn't afford the permissions and licenses for most of the music I wanted to remix— nor did I have the energy or the funds to secure the means to come across them. And so, it might have been a good idea to start working; I emptied my bank accounts with intention, with a kind of understanding that it didn't matter at all anyway. Kind of nothing mattered, because there was no real money involved— and I had, in fact stumbled upon the opportunity in a suicidal spiral of desperation, being somewhat hopelessly lost at random in what I thought was Williamsburg; it wasn't, I had apparently walked around Brooklyn in an extremely large loop for about an hour before I realized I might be going in the wrong direction because I couldn't see Manhattan anymore, I didn't care. It was probably 77 or something degrees but with the New York humidity it felt like 90, and I was wearing a head to toe full body sauna suit trying to recover from the end of the month's rations of beans, rice, and literally whatever the fuck I really wanted, because it was really also whatever the fuck I could afford without running out of food for the month before my card reloaded. Thinking I should just die, and in the same very moment stumbling across an opportunity that wasn't nessarily a job, but could easily lead to one— and so, after paying my internet bill, I plunged and poured nearly every last cent I had left over Into what? Idk it just ends there. Goddamnit. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

“The Golden Rule” I finally did it. I finally set my house on fire. You don't know. I've lived there two years; I just now did it. This amazes me that just how. Here's how it happened. So I'm in my kitchen, cooking. I just worked out for like, three hours so I'm cooking everything. Everything. I put the soup on, but by the end of the workout, I'm not sure the soup is going to be enough. So, I thought to myself, “You know what, I'm going to make some tortilla chips” A few days before I made the dopest salsa. I couldn't get enough of it. It was the best salsa ever. I was like “gosh” so every day, Tacos for three days, Just to put the salsa on top, And on the fourth day, I'm like “Nah, soup.” So, I put the soup on and I go workout, But the soup, you see has roasted vegetables in in, You know? So what I had done was, I had roasted the vegetables on a pan, but the pan is a little worn, so i put them on parchment paper… … Yeah, but here's what really happened, Is I took the vegetables off of the roasting pan, and I was about to throw away the parchment paper, And I thought “Wait. No! There's still so much oil on this!” And I didn't want to be wasteful. So I turned the oven back on, And I took out the tortillas I had— There were four of them— I took out two, Just in case I wanted two actual tacos later— Cause you know, I really love this fucking salsa. So good. Anyway— I take out two of the four tortillas, And I quarter them, And I flip them in the leftover oil from the roasted vegetables, And I'm thinking— This is going to be so good Roasted vegetable flavored Corn tortilla chips— I brush on a little bit of coconut oil, I drop some lemon juice on them, I put on a little salt— And I put them in the oven— I turn the oven to broil, And then I start the dishes; Dishes takes about ten minutes, This should take about ten minutes— So I start doing the dishes, And cleaning up, And putting them away, And this is the most ironic shit in the world, I start thinking to myself Particularly about this comedian that I like And I start thinking to myself “Wow, so you're a comedian; Comedian things happen to you; You're a real comedian. I must not be a real comedian— Because comedy things don't happen to me.” And right at that moment, I just so happen to look into the oven, And all I see is flames. Like, open flames. Big, flames. So I open the oven; More flames. I'm like “Oh no.” So now I'm panicking because I've never had an apartment with a gas stove before, So I don't know how quickly flames turn into massive explosions. And it's honestly funny how suicidal I am, Until I see open flames and I'm like “No, but— not like THIS!” So I freak out, I hit the breaker. I turn off everything in the place I'm not looking to see which switch is “gas” I turned turned them all off, Click, click, click, click Put on my slip ons, and grab my phone and I'm out the door. And I'm thinking to myself “See this is why you need a phone,” Because honestly sometimes, I don't feel like paying the bill. I feel like having toilet paper, Or soap, Or water— And I just “Whatever” But lately, I've been looking for more work because I like having toilet paper, and soap, and water AND a phone— so I keep the phone on, Which, even in the moment is like “Oh yeah, wow, I have a phone” Like I'm in astonishment at how handy it is because if it's handy for anything, This is it. So I'm out the door, and I'm dialing 911 as I hit the staircase; Whoosh, I'm out the door and in the long before the operator even picks up, And I'm in the lobby, on the phone, and the operator gets the address and I'm just standing there — Mind you, I didn't even grab my keys on the way out, so I'm assuming the door is locked, And I think to myself about the size of the flames and the fact that they were coming from the oven which is connected to a gas line which is connected to the rest of the building, so I don't know how any of that stuff works, And then I start thinking. “Should I warn my neighbors?” I hate my neighbors. Or rather, My neighbors hate me. But I'm thinking of the flames and the smoke and the danger and how, if it was me, I'd want to know if the apartment next door to mine was on fire and possibly about to explode. You know; the golden rule. So I'm like “fuck it” I don't get along with these people but I don't mean to blow them up. So I run back upstairs, And I knock on their doors; Not everyone's doors, just the two doors in what I assume would be the blast area. I knock on their doors, And only one of them answers— The one that answers is, of course, The one that's been stalking me. So this is ironic at least twice, now, And she answers the door, And I explain to her the situation “Look, my apartment's on fire whatever The fire department's on the way, I'm locked out…” As I turn the knob, I realize, I'm not locked out. My door didn't even lock, I didn't notice it didn't lock, I just ran, So I'm like “Nevermind I just wanted you to know the fire departments on the way and not to panic” And she just gives me this look With her wombat face —she has wombat face. She looks like a— Like a rabid wombat. Like a— Like a really fucked up, Possum. Like a wombat-possum. And we've been having some—problems. She's my stalker. She's been stalking me; And I've noticed so, It's really awkward that I'm at her door warning her like “hey, don't freak out or anything, the fire department's coming by” And she just looks at me with those beady little eyes and a shrug that tells me If her apartment was about to explode She'd just let me incinerate. , “Whatever, fuck you.” I know I'm a good person, Cause I would want to know— so I let you know There may be danger here! Whatever. So she's like “whatever”, and shuts the door like a normal, sane person Cause my problem with her is that For the past year Every time I take a bath or shower, This wombat looking rabid possum bitch Slams the door. Not just her door, The stairwell exit door, Which is located adjacent to my door. So every time I take a bath for the last year— BOOM. BOOM. Fuck that. Theres's more to the story but you get the point. She's a white supremacist wombat with a door slamming habit. That's that story, this is another story. So anyway. And I just realized, I'm not locked out at all, and so I go back into the apartment not knowing if it contained itself, or if it got worse— I don't know, the whole place is just filled with smoke, and then the super, Who I also called and also don't like, Shows up before the fire department, And he comes in, and he opens the oven, and just— Plumes of smoke— Then the fire dudes rush in, I'm like, “Oh God” I just worked out for three hours and looked wombat girl right in the face, Like, right in the eyes Now I probably look like a wombat That shit is contagious, Fuck that. “”let me put on some sunglasses” So I put on some sunglasses, And three fire dudes walk in in full gear with canisters and shit, Masks; The whole thing. But the super already opened the oven, There's no more flames, No more fire, Just smoke— And a bunch of mad crispy Ashes. No tortilla chips, Just— Ashes, on a cookie sheet. Just— Ashes, But still, smoke everywhere so they have to follow the procedure, And the procedure is, Moving all my shit by dragging it across the floor; Ok, that's cool, I guess, Boom. One of them starts running water down the sink, Alright, Another one just rips down the curtains. I'm like “That's hot.” (It was so hot) Slides back the couch, opens the window. I'm astonished that something as simple as a man pulling down your curtain rod with no regards to giving a fuck can be so exhilirating. I'm like “oh!” Then after all that, They're just standing there. Just, In full gear, Looking at the oven like “Well, that's it.” They're like “K. Bye.” I'm like “that's it?” They're like “Yeah” I'm like l, “I don't need to do anything?” They're like “Just open the window, keep the door open till the smoke comes out” I'm like “that's all” They're like “yeah” I'm like “my bad.” They all just shrug like “whatever” Like, in unison, shrugging like to give no fucks at all, Still in full gear. The only thing I can be sure of is that all three of them are hot and if the super wasn't there, I'd inidiate a gangbang. Almost positive. But five's a crowd, or whatever, so I'm like “Well, thanks guys, sorry about that” and they all just leave, almost disappointed like there wasn't a burning building to actually show up to. I'm just relieved I didn't explode and the solace I can take from this is that I'm a good person. my neighbor is stalking me cause she has NOTHING ELSE to do. That bitch was AT the door, never leaves. She's miserable. She looks like a wombat And 3. Three firefighters entered and exited the apartment head to toe in full gear with heavy ass metal canisters and did not slam a single door. FUCK YOU HOE. Very respectful servicemen. I had called the landlord about her harassing me in the shower and the bathtub. You know she's doing it every bath and every shower for over a year she's doing it on purposes I started making formal complaints; The property management's like “Are you sure she's doing it on purpose?” THREE Fully grown men decked head to toe in full fireproof outfits, helmets, and masks entered and exited the building on one day and in ten minutes more quietly than she has at any given point over the last year. THREE FULLY GROWN MEN. WITH CANISTERS. If they can enter and exit with less noise than a 150 lb wombat— She's doing it on purpose. End of story. Well, end of that story, Or like two stories but Here's the end of this one. So finally after the dust settles And I hit the gym again Because nothing is a better preworkout Than adrenialine, (Especially when you've already had preworkout) I come back and now I'm extra famished and the Amazon guy came in all that fuss And now I have canola oils So I've been soaking some potato wedges And I decide, “Hey, I got wedges. Let's do that” So I heat the oil, and as I'm heating the oil, I realize… I still have two tortillas. Maybe that was the whole point! I'm being a pussy, making tortilla chips, In the oven, on parchment paper, Like a little bitch! So I'm like “Alright, cool, When these wedges are done, the oil should be the perfect temperature for the tortilla chips To be made the old fashioned way The RIGHT way!” So I wait, I do the wedges, and I drop the tortillas, And I wait for them to get golden brown, I drain the oil, I put them out to cool; I do the dishes while they cool, whatever, I grab the salsa container out of the fridge, I take the bowl into the studio so I can watch YouTube while I enjoy my chips, I plop down, Turn on the you tube I open the salsa container— And it's empty. There's no more salsa. I put the container in the fridge empty. Silly me. “You're a comedian, comedy things happen to you.” Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to I won't got no business in the business I unplug the plug because I'm finish Just because my skin they think I'm niggas But that disrespect because I isn't You disrespected me Put the emphasis in neglect Synthesis? Sympathies Put some respect on my name Before I put some facts in these flames Making me famous But you don't play me Picking up packages Trying to play me I am the president bitch Not the lady Okay Scratch my back With a metal spatula Take a step back, this is not your world Take a step back While I skip forward This is snitch territory; You should be very aware of me Beware If that's didn't scare you Just stay right there I'm in weight class: BEAR Flying first class air with howling thunderous winds and much hacking, “TIMOTHY THE GIANT CAT” dislodges a Omg dislodges a what? I have no idea that's all that was there. omg. My mother must've known something about me I couldn't have; My mother must have given me her monster But this monster knows better. Even just the profile is an irritant for now; Unsure, meditterenian, Overgrown pantheons turned to ruins What happened was harder, Turbulence I've been good, Golden even But this computer wants me gone And now, Aggravated Assault with a program Who would have thought the forth world war would be fought With our own thoughts? No one. Hm. Even just a glimpse and imm angrier than I've ever been. Still something creeps like the Harvard doctor Or the burning fire Or the flicker of just a thought A meadowlark and still Vines at the bottom of the spring In the pantheon Rhythms and rythms and Now I remember why were blowing up the counterparts Shut up, And pay your taxes Nothing to see here, bottoms up. But it's only 9 and half a clock Remember Sonny, would ya Now we're all obscure in the shadowbox Fix you up a seller Shortly temple soda Surely something lingers Sure enough The forest, And the father And the omen And the harpist And the seeker And the shadow And the wonder And the alter Therefore, Who art thou Therefore, who, Arthur What a wonderful tragedy, Mr. Lin He said, “I thought you'd though so” I say, “Prayers answered and nothing less Than just in the nick of time, For nickel backs And Pennie's picked up, Now in capsules Who you are, I falter But nevertheless A songbird” What a vow, God. I try to keep my promises But my face is still wilted And awkward I take those punches Just about as well As the bag I've become Downstairs, embankments And more shadow boxes Gift, valentines And then now By Fourth of July I should be quite the disappointment To just about everyone Who even had a thought about her There are no more colors Just wounds, And salt shakers, Garlic and Slamming doors Art throbs And heart connesuiers And curators Existential crisis And inward turmoil Oil on canvas Blood spills Long before it ever boils Cauldrons Candle marks Ought, with my eye out Out, with the harpists! I put my eye on, Dose now, Flicker flames, Shadow box Goodnight drunken soldier Pity this, I want to sleep, but wither I want to weep, but am watched I must be under some kind of… Umbrella. I bust me under some kind of — Possession. I must be under surveillance The Devil's in the neighbor The proof is in the pudding I want to punch the possum Or wombat Or what you would call a rodent Dressed as some dumb girl I'm sure she gets paid by the poem To poke and prod But I've written symphonies next door While she plants the seeds of the devil's words And still tries to force conformity In a neighborhood riddled with disease Of which includes her Poor habits and lack of personality No vibration after all But I've hydrated perfectly And circumstances permit, Again, I've written symphonies and never ending sagas in the bathtub While you threaten to pull the plug And put the light out I beg you to watch me Rip my veins apart with box cutters And razorblades Then again, Probably with glee, The whites would watch Another black in agony They seem to really like that Then again The blacks, the shadows Cursed beats Seem to rip each other into pieces As if for entertainment or otherwise Watch this They seem to hate each other moredoes Anybody else actually hate them also And therefore I watch pitifully and become Respectfully disengaged As I am sorted into Creatures of the agony, abyss and wisdom old A tale as old as time and still Something forgotten, Even still It is a man's war, And us as women are just Objects, Then whatever lurks next door is more An empty body or a shell Than ever more a woman was That was my husband you stole from the office. Fucking dumb whore. Then again; What never was owned Then cannot be stolen See golden brotherhood, Crepes and popes, Sacred pipes Cerulean, And keeping her out of our concepts And gardens Planting seeds of choking mongrels And still here We dance in the meadowlarks song And the chosen fountain The blue rays of sun, And the wonder's bow and arrow Again, I call? Well, again I wake As lover does not call But yet I to answer with a song of words And heart of such A song of one to call for But nothing lays more secret then These eyes and filled with pains A wound, salted A bullet, And gillotine Ouch Get out, God. Listen, mister listen A couple hours later And my eyes are steady getting misty Filled with sweat and bears No blood yet Stings my eyes So you know I ain't been eating right And eyes o. Irish Hash and cabbage Checks to cash And slight advantage God help us all If the brim of the hat is dripping And I'm gripping these quarts as I sleep And thinking of Jimmy Croissants fresher baked in the oven Then somebody better love my son Before I go and end the world And pull the plug I ain't got nothing left for em but diamonds! I left forums unanswered I started a lot of unfinished problems But the thing is, I'm almost sure they're already solved Considering as alcoholism's a solvent It cams hurt the hard boards And mother drives The tears are filled with sweat And fountains Somebody else should call it in I'm in so much trouble with the network Thanks a lot, you algorithm fucking Cocksuck programmers Now my heart hurts And soul is vanished How hard do I have to run To go and catch her I looked 15 years into the past And found a wheeelbarrow and basket I have got to get out of here I have got to get out of here Here the coroner comes for Debbie Cadaver But I'm still her, huh Aren't I? Run! You fucking Irish bastard Perfectly tan and yet still, stark white Perfectly golden and still, I'm on numbers Perfectly parished, And still I went backwards A wedding or funeral? All catholic, no services No difference at all And still Nothings worse than Indifference I'm in so much trouble with the network Be king in the nexrophiliac And still I left the golden metropolis For nothing but a metro card and Simple segregative diversity tactics I wanted the heartland! Still, Irish bastard Wish hash and cabbage I've got to get out of here Pushing a basket Abandonment And Fatal attraction You can't sell me anything If I can't buy it Recovery day But I don't feel like it Muscles tired, I'm elastic Send them to the band camp (White lion) I'm elastic Twists and turns and I'm elastic Double up, Double up I'm elastic Twists and turns and There's vampires Don't feel like it Double up double up I'm elastic Take a lesson This is tragic Double up double up I promise, it is personal not business It's professional, no promises now On the radio tower Spread it out Or just hijinx it I mix drinks with hindsight I'm elastic Lesson learned and Twists and turns Between the fireman and the super Someone left a stench And an energy marker in my room That left me clawing at my “Do not touch” money And it hit below the belt. It was all God's comedy, But not in the least funny, I knew I didn't like the super really for whatever reason But even after he left to check the Fire defectors His stench lingered over the smell of the forgotten smoke And I woke up from a nightmare As if I'd lost control When normally, I know imm dreaming with Enough time to change things Before they spiral out of control— And the worst part, I didn't remember the dream at all besides Waking up, finally at the end Realizing it was a dream and telling myself It was okay, because now I could just wake up But it wasn't okay, and I blamed the super And whatever he brought with him For lingering in my space Which didn't really feel like mine anymore, anyways, Because the neighbor was evil as they come And they were always playing mind games in the building And the motorcycles And really I deserved better But I couldn't afford it And because I couldn't afford it The demons were always lurking Trying to penetrate my space And they did, that day And it was God's comedy But it wasn't funny And it lingered And the nightmares And the motorcycles was a years long nightmare indeed And hey, At least I got some new music. I realized my show might be the only place my “remixes” might ever see the light of day or have ears other than mine; I couldn't afford the permissions and licenses for most of the music I wanted to remix— nor did I have the energy or the funds to secure the means to come across them. And so, it might have been a good idea to start working; I emptied my bank accounts with intention, with a kind of understanding that it didn't matter at all anyway. Kind of nothing mattered, because there was no real money involved— and I had, in fact stumbled upon the opportunity in a suicidal spiral of desperation, being somewhat hopelessly lost at random in what I thought was Williamsburg; it wasn't, I had apparently walked around Brooklyn in an extremely large loop for about an hour before I realized I might be going in the wrong direction because I couldn't see Manhattan anymore, I didn't care. It was probably 77 or something degrees but with the New York humidity it felt like 90, and I was wearing a head to toe full body sauna suit trying to recover from the end of the month's rations of beans, rice, and literally whatever the fuck I really wanted, because it was really also whatever the fuck I could afford without running out of food for the month before my card reloaded. Thinking I should just die, and in the same very moment stumbling across an opportunity that wasn't nessarily a job, but could easily lead to one— and so, after paying my internet bill, I plunged and poured nearly every last cent I had left over Into what? Idk it just ends there. Goddamnit. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

“The Golden Rule” I finally did it. I finally set my house on fire. You don't know. I've lived there two years; I just now did it. This amazes me that just how. Here's how it happened. So I'm in my kitchen, cooking. I just worked out for like, three hours so I'm cooking everything. Everything. I put the soup on, but by the end of the workout, I'm not sure the soup is going to be enough. So, I thought to myself, “You know what, I'm going to make some tortilla chips” A few days before I made the dopest salsa. I couldn't get enough of it. It was the best salsa ever. I was like “gosh” so every day, Tacos for three days, Just to put the salsa on top, And on the fourth day, I'm like “Nah, soup.” So, I put the soup on and I go workout, But the soup, you see has roasted vegetables in in, You know? So what I had done was, I had roasted the vegetables on a pan, but the pan is a little worn, so i put them on parchment paper… … Yeah, but here's what really happened, Is I took the vegetables off of the roasting pan, and I was about to throw away the parchment paper, And I thought “Wait. No! There's still so much oil on this!” And I didn't want to be wasteful. So I turned the oven back on, And I took out the tortillas I had— There were four of them— I took out two, Just in case I wanted two actual tacos later— Cause you know, I really love this fucking salsa. So good. Anyway— I take out two of the four tortillas, And I quarter them, And I flip them in the leftover oil from the roasted vegetables, And I'm thinking— This is going to be so good Roasted vegetable flavored Corn tortilla chips— I brush on a little bit of coconut oil, I drop some lemon juice on them, I put on a little salt— And I put them in the oven— I turn the oven to broil, And then I start the dishes; Dishes takes about ten minutes, This should take about ten minutes— So I start doing the dishes, And cleaning up, And putting them away, And this is the most ironic shit in the world, I start thinking to myself Particularly about this comedian that I like And I start thinking to myself “Wow, so you're a comedian; Comedian things happen to you; You're a real comedian. I must not be a real comedian— Because comedy things don't happen to me.” And right at that moment, I just so happen to look into the oven, And all I see is flames. Like, open flames. Big, flames. So I open the oven; More flames. I'm like “Oh no.” So now I'm panicking because I've never had an apartment with a gas stove before, So I don't know how quickly flames turn into massive explosions. And it's honestly funny how suicidal I am, Until I see open flames and I'm like “No, but— not like THIS!” So I freak out, I hit the breaker. I turn off everything in the place I'm not looking to see which switch is “gas” I turned turned them all off, Click, click, click, click Put on my slip ons, and grab my phone and I'm out the door. And I'm thinking to myself “See this is why you need a phone,” Because honestly sometimes, I don't feel like paying the bill. I feel like having toilet paper, Or soap, Or water— And I just “Whatever” But lately, I've been looking for more work because I like having toilet paper, and soap, and water AND a phone— so I keep the phone on, Which, even in the moment is like “Oh yeah, wow, I have a phone” Like I'm in astonishment at how handy it is because if it's handy for anything, This is it. So I'm out the door, and I'm dialing 911 as I hit the staircase; Whoosh, I'm out the door and in the long before the operator even picks up, And I'm in the lobby, on the phone, and the operator gets the address and I'm just standing there — Mind you, I didn't even grab my keys on the way out, so I'm assuming the door is locked, And I think to myself about the size of the flames and the fact that they were coming from the oven which is connected to a gas line which is connected to the rest of the building, so I don't know how any of that stuff works, And then I start thinking. “Should I warn my neighbors?” I hate my neighbors. Or rather, My neighbors hate me. But I'm thinking of the flames and the smoke and the danger and how, if it was me, I'd want to know if the apartment next door to mine was on fire and possibly about to explode. You know; the golden rule. So I'm like “fuck it” I don't get along with these people but I don't mean to blow them up. So I run back upstairs, And I knock on their doors; Not everyone's doors, just the two doors in what I assume would be the blast area. I knock on their doors, And only one of them answers— The one that answers is, of course, The one that's been stalking me. So this is ironic at least twice, now, And she answers the door, And I explain to her the situation “Look, my apartment's on fire whatever The fire department's on the way, I'm locked out…” As I turn the knob, I realize, I'm not locked out. My door didn't even lock, I didn't notice it didn't lock, I just ran, So I'm like “Nevermind I just wanted you to know the fire departments on the way and not to panic” And she just gives me this look With her wombat face —she has wombat face. She looks like a— Like a rabid wombat. Like a— Like a really fucked up, Possum. Like a wombat-possum. And we've been having some—problems. She's my stalker. She's been stalking me; And I've noticed so, It's really awkward that I'm at her door warning her like “hey, don't freak out or anything, the fire department's coming by” And she just looks at me with those beady little eyes and a shrug that tells me If her apartment was about to explode She'd just let me incinerate. , “Whatever, fuck you.” I know I'm a good person, Cause I would want to know— so I let you know There may be danger here! Whatever. So she's like “whatever”, and shuts the door like a normal, sane person Cause my problem with her is that For the past year Every time I take a bath or shower, This wombat looking rabid possum bitch Slams the door. Not just her door, The stairwell exit door, Which is located adjacent to my door. So every time I take a bath for the last year— BOOM. BOOM. Fuck that. Theres's more to the story but you get the point. She's a white supremacist wombat with a door slamming habit. That's that story, this is another story. So anyway. And I just realized, I'm not locked out at all, and so I go back into the apartment not knowing if it contained itself, or if it got worse— I don't know, the whole place is just filled with smoke, and then the super, Who I also called and also don't like, Shows up before the fire department, And he comes in, and he opens the oven, and just— Plumes of smoke— Then the fire dudes rush in, I'm like, “Oh God” I just worked out for three hours and looked wombat girl right in the face, Like, right in the eyes Now I probably look like a wombat That shit is contagious, Fuck that. “”let me put on some sunglasses” So I put on some sunglasses, And three fire dudes walk in in full gear with canisters and shit, Masks; The whole thing. But the super already opened the oven, There's no more flames, No more fire, Just smoke— And a bunch of mad crispy Ashes. No tortilla chips, Just— Ashes, on a cookie sheet. Just— Ashes, But still, smoke everywhere so they have to follow the procedure, And the procedure is, Moving all my shit by dragging it across the floor; Ok, that's cool, I guess, Boom. One of them starts running water down the sink, Alright, Another one just rips down the curtains. I'm like “That's hot.” (It was so hot) Slides back the couch, opens the window. I'm astonished that something as simple as a man pulling down your curtain rod with no regards to giving a fuck can be so exhilirating. I'm like “oh!” Then after all that, They're just standing there. Just, In full gear, Looking at the oven like “Well, that's it.” They're like “K. Bye.” I'm like “that's it?” They're like “Yeah” I'm like l, “I don't need to do anything?” They're like “Just open the window, keep the door open till the smoke comes out” I'm like “that's all” They're like “yeah” I'm like “my bad.” They all just shrug like “whatever” Like, in unison, shrugging like to give no fucks at all, Still in full gear. The only thing I can be sure of is that all three of them are hot and if the super wasn't there, I'd inidiate a gangbang. Almost positive. But five's a crowd, or whatever, so I'm like “Well, thanks guys, sorry about that” and they all just leave, almost disappointed like there wasn't a burning building to actually show up to. I'm just relieved I didn't explode and the solace I can take from this is that I'm a good person. my neighbor is stalking me cause she has NOTHING ELSE to do. That bitch was AT the door, never leaves. She's miserable. She looks like a wombat And 3. Three firefighters entered and exited the apartment head to toe in full gear with heavy ass metal canisters and did not slam a single door. FUCK YOU HOE. Very respectful servicemen. I had called the landlord about her harassing me in the shower and the bathtub. You know she's doing it every bath and every shower for over a year she's doing it on purposes I started making formal complaints; The property management's like “Are you sure she's doing it on purpose?” THREE Fully grown men decked head to toe in full fireproof outfits, helmets, and masks entered and exited the building on one day and in ten minutes more quietly than she has at any given point over the last year. THREE FULLY GROWN MEN. WITH CANISTERS. If they can enter and exit with less noise than a 150 lb wombat— She's doing it on purpose. End of story. Well, end of that story, Or like two stories but Here's the end of this one. So finally after the dust settles And I hit the gym again Because nothing is a better preworkout Than adrenialine, (Especially when you've already had preworkout) I come back and now I'm extra famished and the Amazon guy came in all that fuss And now I have canola oils So I've been soaking some potato wedges And I decide, “Hey, I got wedges. Let's do that” So I heat the oil, and as I'm heating the oil, I realize… I still have two tortillas. Maybe that was the whole point! I'm being a pussy, making tortilla chips, In the oven, on parchment paper, Like a little bitch! So I'm like “Alright, cool, When these wedges are done, the oil should be the perfect temperature for the tortilla chips To be made the old fashioned way The RIGHT way!” So I wait, I do the wedges, and I drop the tortillas, And I wait for them to get golden brown, I drain the oil, I put them out to cool; I do the dishes while they cool, whatever, I grab the salsa container out of the fridge, I take the bowl into the studio so I can watch YouTube while I enjoy my chips, I plop down, Turn on the you tube I open the salsa container— And it's empty. There's no more salsa. I put the container in the fridge empty. Silly me. “You're a comedian, comedy things happen to you.” Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Black Country, New Road's Tyler Hyde and Lewis Evans join Sodajerker for a conversation about the writing of their latest record Forever Howlong. The pair discuss the band's captivating lyrics, sophisticated arrangements, and how, with producer James Ford, they navigated the process of making something fresh after a period of change and instability. WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU! If you've ever listened to Sodajerker On Songwriting - be it casually or borderline obsessively - we'd love for you to take a few minutes to share your thoughts via this survey: https://forms.office.com/e/TnrqaA6PLp?origin=lprLink Your responses are anonymous and confidential, and they'll shape how we grow and improve the pod, as well as help support a postgraduate research project. Many thanks! Simon & Brian x

This is an excerpt from Songwriting Pro's "J.A.M. Session." (J.A.M. stands for "Just Ask Me," and it's our monthly members-only online Q&A Session.) If you'd like to watch the full J.A.M. Session, just log in to the Songwriting Pro Member Area. If you're not yet a Songwriting Pro member, NOW is a great time to start your 14-day FREE trial at SongwritingPro.com! The C.L.I.M.B. Show is dedicated to helping singers, songwriters, indie artists and industry pros "Create Leverage In The Music Business." We want you to win! About the hosts: Brent Baxter is an award-winning hit songwriter with cuts by Alan Jackson (“Monday Morning Church”), Randy Travis, Lady A, Joe Nichols, Ray Stevens, Gord Bamford and more. He helps songwriters turn pro by helping them WRITE like a pro, DO BUSINESS like a pro and CONNECT to the pros. You can find Brent at SongwritingPro.com/Baxter and SongwritingPro.com. Johnny Dwinell owns Daredevil Production and helps artists increase their streams, blow up their video views, sell more live show tickets, and get discovered by new fans, TV and music industry pros. Daredevil has worked with artists including Collin Raye, Tracy Lawrence, Ty Herndon, Ronnie McDowell and others. You can find Johnny at TheCLIMBshow.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Respected guitarist Gary Pihl joins Metal Mayhem ROC to reflect on his storied career with Sammy Hagar and Boston while spotlighting the new Alliance album Before Our Eyes. He shares rare, behind-the-scenes stories from the early days of the Sammy Hagar solo band—both in the studio and on tour—including the making of the iconic “I Can't Drive 55” video, as well as insights into the recording of original Night Ranger demos. Gary also opens up about his significant years with Boston, discussing the challenges and rewards of joining a legendary band and how he helped shape their signature sound during arena tours. Diving into the songwriting and sound behind Alliance's latest release, he reveals how his classic rock roots continue to inspire fresh music for today's generation. And in a fascinating twist, Gary even shares that he took guitar lessons from Jerry Garcia back in the 60s! 00:00: Gary Pihl Introduction 01:34: Guitar Beginnings & Lessons from Jerry Garcia 03:50: Joining Sammy Hagar and Early Boston Connection 08:22: Songwriting and Dual Guitar Solos with Sammy 09:43: Making the “I Can't Drive 55” Video 11:45: Touring and Life on the Road with Sammy 15:44: Night Ranger Demo Sessions 18:13: Joining Boston for “Third Stage” Comeback 22:03: Boston's Revolutionary Gear and Live Setup 26:34: Future of Boston and 50th Anniversary Hopes 27:17: Alliance Formation with Robert Berry and David Lauser 32:46: Inside the New Alliance Album “Before Our Eyes” 42:18: Magic of Writing and Recording Together in the Studio Metal Mayhem ROC: https://metalmayhemroc.com/ Alliance Official Website https://alliance.band Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Rick Beato is a multi-instrumentalist musician, YouTuber, and a music producer. Music and the industry around it have changed dramatically over the past few decades. With the rise of AI, the dominance of streaming platforms like Spotify, and the fading relevance of traditional Popstars, the old model of making and producing music is on its last breath. So what comes next? And who or what will shape the future of music? Expect to learn why Live Nation has become a lot of peoples enemies, what most people don't understand about the process of making a pop song now, the trends musically that are dominating at the moment and why country is controlling the charts, the impact of TikTok on music generation, the rise of AI artists, bands and the rippling effects it will have on creatives in the music industry, what the future of music monetisation is going to look like, why Popstars are becoming obsolete, and much more... Sponsors: See discounts for all the products I use and recommend: https://chriswillx.com/deals Get the best bloodwork analysis in America at https://functionhealth.com/modernwisdom Get a 20% discount on Nomatic's amazing luggage at https://nomatic.com/modernwisdom Get a Free Sample Pack of LMNT's most popular Flavours with your first purchase at https://drinklmnt.com/modernwisdom Get 35% off your first subscription on the best supplements from Momentous at https://livemomentous.com/modernwisdom Timestamps: (00:00) Why Does Everyone Hate Live Nation? (09:36) What Goes Into Making A Pop Song? (17:39) Producer Driven Songs vs. Artist Written Songs (30:56) What Do Pop Stars Bring To The Table Today? (37:07) What Trends Are Dominating Charts Currently? (46:07) Is Music Too Easy To Make Now? (56:39) The Impact Of TikTok On Music & Formula For Making A Hit Song (1:12:16) Why Is Country Music So Popular Now? (1:21:22) Will AI Artists Takeover The Music Industry? (1:29:48) The Ethics Of AI In Music (1:43:20) How Do Artists Make Money Now? (1:48:59) The Good, Bad, & Ugly Of Spotify (1:54:30) The Future Of Music Monetization Extra Stuff: Get my free reading list of 100 books to read before you die: https://chriswillx.com/books Try my productivity energy drink Neutonic: https://neutonic.com/modernwisdom Episodes You Might Enjoy: #577 - David Goggins - This Is How To Master Your Life: https://tinyurl.com/43hv6y59 #712 - Dr Jordan Peterson - How To Destroy Your Negative Beliefs: https://tinyurl.com/2rtz7avf #700 - Dr Andrew Huberman - The Secret Tools To Hack Your Brain: https://tinyurl.com/3ccn5vkp - Get In Touch: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/chriswillx Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/chriswillx YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/modernwisdompodcast Email: https://chriswillx.com/contact - Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We're celebrating our 10th anniversary all year by digging in the vaults to re-present classic episodes with fresh commentary. Today, we're revisiting our 2016 conversation with Mike Stoller. ABOUT MIKE STOLLERMike Stoller has written more than 60 songs that have appeared on the Billboard charts, including the #1 hits “Hound Dog,” “Kansas City,” “Yakety Yak,”  “Searchin',” “Jailhouse Rock,” “Poison Ivy,” “Stand By Me,” “Young Blood,” “Don't,” and “Ruby, Baby." After Stoller and songwriting partner Jerry Leiber found early R&B success with recordings by Little Esther, Charles Brown, Ray Charles, and Big Mama Thornton, Elvis Presley turned their song "Hound Dog" into a #1 single on the pop, R&B, and country charts in 1956. Elvis went on to record more than 20 Leiber and Stoller titles, including the hits "Love Me," "Loving You," "Jailhouse Rock," "Treat Me Nice," "She's Not You," and "Bossa Nova Baby." Mike and Jerry signed an independent production deal with Atlantic Records in the mid-1950s, where they wrote and produced a series of hits for several artists, including the Drifters' "There Goes My Baby," "Dance With Me," and "On Broadway." Additionally, the pair wrote and produced all the Coasters' singles, including "Young Blood," "Searchin'," "Charlie Brown," "Along Came Jones," and "Poison Ivy." Other highlights from the Leiber and Stoller songbook include "Love Potion No. 9," which was a hit for both the Clovers and the Searchers, and "Is That All There Is," which was a hit for Peggy Lee. Eleven different versions of their song “Stand By Me” appeared on the Billboard charts over the span of 50 years, with the original version by Ben E. King hitting the Top 10 in both 1961 and 1986. Smokey Joe's Cafe, which included 40 Leiber and Stoller songs, opened in 1995 and became the longest running musical revue in Broadway history. Stoller received the prestigious ASCAP Founders Award in 1991, has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and is a member of both the Songwriters Hall of Fame and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Episode 80: Mike Caren. If you're in the music industry, you hear the name Mike Caren all the time. He's one of the most powerful people in music, with a career that's led to billions of streams, multiple GRAMMY wins, and chart-topping, career-defining hits as both an A&R and executive. He's signed and/or helped break artists like Bruno Mars, Charlie Puth, Ed Sheeran, Kehlani, YoungBoy Never Broke Again, Wiz Khalifa, Flo Rida, T.I., Trey Songz, Ava Max, Kevin Gates, and Don Toliver. He started his career at Atlantic Records at just 18 years old, eventually becoming President of Worldwide A&R at Warner Music Group. Today, he is the founder and CEO of APG, which includes Artist Partner Group (label) and Artist Publishing Group (publishing), one of the most successful independent music companies in the world. This is Mike Caren's first-ever long-form, on-camera interview. Mike usually keeps a low profile, so I was honored he agreed to do this. We dive into his full trajectory, how he got where he is today, lessons learned, and his advice for artists, songwriters, and A&Rs trying to build meaningful careers in today's music landscape. We also talk artist development, the balance of creativity and business, AI and more. There's so much to take away from this one. Hope you enjoy my conversation with the great Mike Caren! ‘Go with Elmo Lovano' is a weekly podcast where Elmo interviews creatives and entrepreneurs in music on HOW they push forward every day, got where they are in their careers, manage their personal lives, and share lessons learned and their most important insights. (0:00:00) INTRO (0:07:13) EARLY CAREER, GROWING UP (0:08:22) RADIO SHOW WITH THE ALCHEMIST (0:09:20) INTERSCOPE RECORDS INTERNSHIP 1993 (0:13:10) PROVIDE VALUE (0:14:34) MARKETING ROLES (0:17:14) CRAIG KALLMAN, BIG BEAT, ATLANTIC (0:19:21) BLACK EYED PEAS, SIGNING TWISTA (0:21:56) THE PHARCYDE REMIX, STARTING IN A&R (0:24:23) BECOMING EVP OF A&R AT ATLANTIC RECORDS, SIGNING TRICK DADDY, TRINA, T.I., TREY SONGZ, NAPPY ROOTS (0:28:10) STARTING APG (0:31:37) ATLANTIC AND APG (0:33:18) BEING AN EXEC WHILE RUNNING A PUBLISHING COMPANY, STARTING ELEKTRA RECORDS (0:34:15) CEELO GREEN (0:34:30) B.O.B, “NOTHING ON YOU” WITH BRUNO MARS (0:35:13) SIGNING ED SHEERAN (0:36:49) SIGNING BRUNO MARS, BRANDY, AARON BAY-SCHUCK (0:41:09) BEING A CO-PRESIDENT WITH JOHN JANICK (0:42:35) SIA & DAVID GUETTA “TITANIUM” (0:48:23) PRESIDENT OF A&R WARNER MUSIC GROUP, SIGNING KEVIN GATES (0:51:57) CHARLIE PUTH, WIZ KHALIFA, LIL WAYNE (0:54:09) KEHLANI (0:56:16) “SEE YOU AGAIN” CHARLIE PUTH (0:57:43) CREDITING (1:03:01) HOW TO PRIORITIZE (1:10:10) CRAFTING HIT SONGS IN 2025 (1:17:24) A.I. Please SUBSCRIBE / FOLLOW this podcast to catch new episodes as soon as they drop! Your likes, comments and shares are much appreciated!   Listen to the audio form of this podcast wherever you get your podcasts: https://elmolovano.komi.io/ Follow Mike: https://www.instagram.com/mikecaren/ Follow Go With Elmo: https://www.instagram.com/gowithelmo/ https://www.tiktok.com/@gowithelmo https://x.com/gowithelmopod Follow Elmo Lovano: https://Instagram.com/elmolovano https://x.com/elmolovano Follow Jammcard: https://www.youtube.com/@jammcard jammcard.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Respected guitarist Gary Pihl joins Metal Mayhem ROC to reflect on his storied career with Sammy Hagar and Boston while spotlighting the new Alliance album Before Our Eyes. He shares rare, behind-the-scenes stories from the early days of the Sammy Hagar solo band—both in the studio and on tour—including the making of the iconic “I Can't Drive 55” video, as well as insights into the recording of original Night Ranger demos. Gary also opens up about his significant years with Boston, discussing the challenges and rewards of joining a legendary band and how he helped shape their signature sound during arena tours. Diving into the songwriting and sound behind Alliance's latest release, he reveals how his classic rock roots continue to inspire fresh music for today's generation. And in a fascinating twist, Gary even shares that he took guitar lessons from Jerry Garcia back in the 60s! 00:00: Gary Pihl Introduction 01:34: Guitar Beginnings & Lessons from Jerry Garcia 03:50: Joining Sammy Hagar and Early Boston Connection 08:22: Songwriting and Dual Guitar Solos with Sammy 09:43: Making the “I Can't Drive 55” Video 11:45: Touring and Life on the Road with Sammy 15:44: Night Ranger Demo Sessions 18:13: Joining Boston for “Third Stage” Comeback 22:03: Boston's Revolutionary Gear and Live Setup 26:34: Future of Boston and 50th Anniversary Hopes 27:17: Alliance Formation with Robert Berry and David Lauser 32:46: Inside the New Alliance Album “Before Our Eyes” 42:18: Magic of Writing and Recording Together in the Studio Metal Mayhem ROC: https://metalmayhemroc.com/ Alliance Official Website https://alliance.band Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Meet Me on The Other Side: Live Songwriting Creations By The Inventor of the ONLY Drum For Guitarists! www.BeatSeat.rocksRecorded Live February 16, 2024 on @markpires on YouTube.Subscribe and join the longest running daily live creation show on Earth since 12/31/18

 ***This is THIRD & FINAL PART of the THREE PART 200th Episode Extravaganza with JOEY STEEL***Joey is a community organizer in New York City (former PUNK ISLAND admin), the frontman for MANY bands, and he hosted the Dispatches from the Underground podcast for over a decade. Joey is someone that I have always looked up to since meeting in 2010, and was a big reason for me to muster the courage to start a punk band, talk politics, and start my own podcast! He's a HUGE reason this podcast exists!!In this episode, we talk about success & failure in the music industry, sacrifices for morality, stepping away from the DFTU podcast, how to make an impact in capitalist society, spirituality & positivity within the punk community, and finding a vision & higher purpose. Follow Joey's bands: ALL TORN UP!, BOWHEAD, and COP/OUT.➤PLAYLIST:1. No Man's Land - All Torn Up!2. shallow mouth - BOWHEAD3. See You In Hell - Cop/Out➤SUPPORT ME:⭐*SUBSCRIBE TO PODCAST ON YOUTUBE*⭐✍️ LEAVE A REVIEW & FOLLOW ON OTHER PODCAST PLATFORMS!⭐*CHECK OUT MY MENTORSHIP*⭐➤I ENDORSE:🎥 LIVE RECORD WITH CART_MUSIC IN PHILLY🛹 HELP LURKING CLASS SKATE SHOP (aka Best Music Scene RN)➤MY AFFILIATES:💪 JOIN PLANET FITNESS FOR $1📶 $20 OFF VISIBLE PHONE PLAN [Code 3RV7LB2]♨️ STEAM UP IN A SAUNABOX

Write better songs faster! Clay & Marty's 10-day video series will help you level-up your songs and finish them faster. CLICK HERE to begin!  SongTown Press Books:Mastering Melody Writing : Check It OutSong Building: Mastering Lyric Writing : Check It OutThe Songwriter's Guide To Mastering Co-Writing : Check It Out Hosts: Clay Mills : Facebook   :   InstagramMarty Dodson :   Facebook   :   Instagram SongTown on Songwriting Podcast, Powered by Sweetwater.com - The best place for musical gear on the planet! For advertising opportunities, email kristine@songtown.com

Enjoy this week's episode with DANCING ON LEGO, Swedish DJ & Producer Duo. Swedish electronic music duo composed of Robin Vadström (briqs) and Oscar Virtanen (OLAVI). They create unique dance music by blending their distinct styles. Their productions focus on creating music that encourages dancing.  “Did you bring the kick drums?” Robin asked, stuffing cables into his backpack. “Of course,” Oscar said, balancing a stack of hats. “But did you pack the grooves?” Robin paused, then smiled. “I think we'll find them along the way.” Songwriting is at the core of what the duo focuses on. Every track has its own identity, with the vocals adapting to the mood rather than following a formula. This same mindset shapes their DJ sets—always in motion, always responding to the moment. Their latest release is their EP I Just Want You To Smile including 1 more track Play That Fact along Redolent's honcho La Santa. Daniel Rateuke – Shivaya (D4NYO Remix) REDOLENT Dancing on Lego - I Just Want You To Smile REDOLENT Andhim - Peeve Anton Khabbaz, Dylan Lee, Jardin Du Son - DiDi (Extended Mix) Gespona, Abuk - Funk & Rhythms Santiago Garcia - Lie (Enamour Extended Remix) KA2 - ut i rommet Jonas Rathsman - Hush Hush &lez - The Rhythm Of Dancing (Extended Mix) CIOZ - Move On Deomid - Can You Dance Like Nobody's Watching Dancing on Lego, La Santa - Play That Fact REDOLENT This show is syndicated & distributed exclusively by Syndicast. If you are a radio station interested in airing the show or would like to distribute your podcast / radio show please register here: https://syndicast.co.uk/distribution/registration

Today's slow drag is with “We Are All Cowards Now” from “Hey Clockface,” released in 2020. The songwriting is credited to Elvis Costello. . . . Show Notes: Appreciation written, produced, and narrated by Remedy Robinson, MA,MFA Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/slow_drag_remedy/ Bluesky Social: https://bsky.app/profile/slowdragwithremedy.com Email: slowdragwithremedy@gmail.com   “Elvis Costello Wiki Resource, Podcasts” https://www.elviscostello.info/wiki/index.php?title=Podcasts Transcription: https://slowdragwithremedy.weebly.com Podcast music by https://www.fesliyanstudios.com Rate this Podcast: https://ratethispodcast.com/slowdrag Slow Drag with Remedy on Amazon Music: https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/1f521a34-2ed9-4bd4-a936-1ad107969046/slow-drag-with-remedy-an-elvis-costello-appreciation References: Elvis Costello Wiki Resource, “We Are All Cowards Now” https://www.elviscostello.info/wiki/index.php?title=We_Are_All_Cowards_Now “We Are All Cowards Now” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8r_F_4AjVE   "We Are All Cowards Now" lyrics Time has taught us That they're sending out their sons To take away our guns and our daughters We are all cowards now Rivers rising Darkness fell upon People blotting out the sun Disguising how We are all cowards now   At least the Emperor Nero had an ear for music But that's history Caligula said “God's speed, my steed” But that's his story They're coming for our Peacemakers Our Winchesters and Colts The rattle of our Gatling Guns Our best cowboy revolts and threats and insults We are all cowards now   The emptiness of arms The openness of thighs The pornography of bullets The promises and prizes can't disguise We are all cowards now   They're draping stones with colours And a roll of stolen names Except those we never cared about And those we need to blame We'll extinguish that flame, just the same We are all cowards now   Arms are empty The pornography of plenty Count commands from one to ten Number sins from ten to twenty There's an illusion we believe in There is honour in their need Pretty confetti, chemical debt And a necessity to bleed   My fears too fleet to scupper My prayers too thin to scream On my lover's back a zipper On her limb a straightened seam So, close the windows tightly Lower lamps and shades On the screen, silent rehearsals For tomorrow's parades For tomorrow's parades For tomorrow's parades We are all cowards now   Additional lyrics from live performances: In a box of lies In a shimmering air There's a whispered curse There's a mumbled prayer No choice but to scan the sky up above At least pretend we can surrender to love At least pretend we can surrender to love Put up your hands Put up your hands Put up your hands Speak up for beauty Throw down your arms Undo your duty For the wounds of the past Some fool will say Pardon these crimes committed today We are all cowards now

Join hosts Sylvan Groth and Jesse as they dive into an extraordinary episode of the Perfectly Good Podcast, where they interview award-winning blues artist Kenny Neal. Discover Kenny's incredible journey from growing up in a musical family in Baton Rouge, to his unexpected stint on Broadway, to his ongoing passion for blues music. Kenny shares stories about his collaboration with other music legends, his thoughts on the universal appeal of blues, and his dedication to fostering new talent. Don't miss this special treat that includes Kenny's reflections on his cover of John Hyatt's 'Love Like Blood.' 00:00 Introduction and Setting the Scene 01:24 A Special Treat: Interview with Kenny Neal 02:02 Reaching Out to Kenny Neal 02:34 The Interview Begins 03:25 Kenny Neal's Musical Journey 07:25 Kenny Neal's Early Life and Influences 11:59 The Blues and Its Significance 18:25 Broadway and Beyond 24:01 Winning the Best Newcomer Award 25:29 European vs. American Audiences 27:12 Discovering John and His Music 29:00 Recording Process and Collaborations 32:51 Touring and Performing Live 37:05 Songwriting and Musical Inspiration 38:41 Giving Back to the Next Generation 39:17 Conclusion and Farewell Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Is AI changing the future of music production? In this episode, I sit down with Bobby Owsinski, renowned producer, author, and music industry expert, to explore the evolving role of AI, mastering, and the creative process. We dive into the latest edition of Owsinski's Mastering Engineer's Handbook, the importance of reference tracks, and the challenges of self-mastering. Our conversation covers the adaptability of professional songwriters, the resurgence of traditional song structures like bridges, and essential mixing techniques. We also discuss the significance of mono mixing, the roles of engineers and producers, and how the legacy of the music industry continues to shape modern production. Bobby and I explore the fallibility of memory in music history, the evolution of guitar tone and equipment, and the impact of technology on sound. We discuss the future of immersive audio, particularly in theatrical settings, and share insights on discovering new music, staying engaged with diverse sounds, and the importance of content creation and organization. If you're looking for expert insights on mastering, mixing, and navigating the changing landscape of music production, this episode is packed with valuable takeaways! Get access to FREE mixing mini-course: https://MixMasterBundle.com My guest today is producer and engineer Bobby Owsinski, one of the best-selling authors in the music industry, with 24 books that have become staples in audio recording, music, and music business programs worldwide. His titles include The Mixing Engineer's Handbook, The Music Business Advice Book, and The Musician's AI Handbook. A contributor to Forbes as a category expert on the new music business, Bobby's industry blogs have won numerous awards, and he's appeared on CNN and ABC News as a music branding and audio expert. His highly-rated Inner Circle podcast is now in its 10th year, with over 500 episodes featuring top guests from across the music industry. Bobby Owsinski was featured in RSR010, RSR395 and RSR458 episodes. THANKS TO OUR SPONSORS! http://UltimateMixingMasterclass.com https://usa.sae.edu/ https://www.izotope.com Use code ROCK10 to get 10% off! https://www.native-instruments.com Use code ROCK10 to get 10% off! https://www.adam-audio.com/ https://www.makebelievestudio.com/mbsi Get your MBSI plugin here! https://RecordingStudioRockstars.com/Academy  https://www.thetoyboxstudio.com/ Listen to the podcast theme song “Skadoosh!” https://solo.to/lijshawmusic Listen to this guest's discography on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/35qyOhVhDyTtol0MGSyCjf?si=7f4e7901c3a94ec5 If you love the podcast, then please leave a review: https://RSRockstars.com/Review CLICK HERE FOR COMPLETE SHOW NOTES AT: https://RSRockstars.com/513

For Joe Henry, truth in songwriting doesn't come from confession or fact. It comes from presence, from listening, from surrender, from giving shape to the ineffable. As he puts it: “Total presence—that is the code of my road.” Henry's road has taken him across both the literal and metaphorical map of American music. Born in North Carolina, raised in Georgia and Ohio, and coming of age in Ann Arbor, Michigan, he grew up suspended between North and South, white and Black, rural and urban. This early sense of duality, of living between poles, helped shape his identity and fed a lifelong curiosity. Alongside his brother Dave, he immersed himself in records, films, and books that would later form the bedrock of his creative work. Over the past four decades, Henry has become one of the most respected songwriters and producers in American music. His solo albums, beginning in the late 1980s, blend literary songwriting with genre-bending arrangements. As a producer, he's worked with artists like Allen Toussaint, Mavis Staples, Solomon Burke, Bonnie Raitt, Rodney Crowell, Joan Baez, and Meshell Ndegeocello. He co-wrote Madonna's hit “Don't Tell Me,” (she also happens to be his sister in law) and more recently, he's been collaborating with Jon Batiste. This year he is releasing three of his classic albums on vinyl for the first time.  In this wide-ranging conversation, Henry discusses his love of character-driven songwriting—an approach influenced early on by Randy Newman and Bob Dylan—and his rejection of the notion that autobiography equals authenticity. “Your factual experience can be disruptive to the truth you're trying to allow to move through you,” he says. www.third-story.com www.leosidran.substack.com www.wbgo.org/podcast/the-third-story

I'm joined by the extraordinary Olcay Bayir, a British singer-songwriter of Kurdish Alevi origin, originally from Turkey. Olcay opens up about the challenges of immigrating as a teenager, her classical training in opera, and how she has forged her own unique musical path.You'll hear clips from her 2024 album Tu Gulî, along with selections from her earlier projects, featuring songs in several languages. Her rich voice and evocative arrangements breathe new life into Anatolian folk traditions, offering a vibrant and powerful reimagining of this timeless music.In our conversation, Olcay shares:Insights into Alevi culture and spiritualityHow she honours the strength and stories of Anatolian womenher creative process and inspiration from masterful collaborators As always, you can watch this episode on my YouTube channel or listen on your favourite podcast platform. A full transcript is also available, all linked on my websiteSupport page: Ko-fiPodcast merch NewsletterOther episodes I suggest: Omo Bello Sophie Lukacs Gilad Weiss Shahriyar Jamshidi Ali Omar El-Farouk Shirley Kazuyo Muramoto(00:00) Intro(01:54) Songline Music Festival, BBC project, Babel Music Expo inspiration(04:05) album Tu Gul î(07:32) clip of Edlê with Olcay's intro, from Tu Gul î(08:15) Songwriting, performing in 4 languages, diversity of Anatolian cultures(12:15) Alevi culture(15:12) clip of Ötme Bülbül with Olcay's intro, poet Pir Sultan Abdal (17:18) choices in instrumentation and arrangements, Ignacio Monteverde(19:46) clip of Ay Dilberê with Olcay's intro, poet Feqiyê Teyran(21:27) the sad story of Husna, with clip(25:56) childhood in Turkey, how music helped her with the challenges of immigration(29:09) clips of Daha Senden Gayrı Aşık Mı Yoktur? and Nare, Nare with Olcay's commentary (32:46) Other epiosdes you'll enjoy and ways to help this series(33:49) opera studies, early musical experiences, coaching vocal technique(36:51) performance skills(40:10) 2nd album Rüya, clip of Yar Dedi, creative process(42:21) içerde EP, Help Musicians UK, clip of Lost Child(46:15) newfound joy in baking and cooking as a creative pursuit, buying the albums on Bandcamp

Margo is joined by rising country artist Krystal King, a Nashville-based singer-songwriter with roots in North Carolina and a background in music therapy. With her raw, emotionally laced vocals and vivid, imagery-rich storytelling, Krystal brings a fresh take on a classic country sound—infused with folk, soul, blues, and rock.   After studying music therapy at Appalachian State University and working in psychiatric care, Krystal made the bold move to Nashville in 2017 with nothing but her guitar and a calling she couldn't ignore. Since then, she's self-produced her debut album Pretty Poison, performed on iconic stages like the Bluebird Café, and become a DJ on SiriusXM's Radio Margaritaville. Margo and Krystal discuss: The emotional layers behind songwriting How music therapy shaped her creative approach Producing her own album + building a supportive team Performing across the country and trusting the process Courage, creativity, and the nervous system connection Staying honest, quirky, and grounded in the country music world   Connect with Krystal: www.krystalkingmusic.com https://www.instagram.com/krystalkingmusic/ https://www.facebook.com/Krystalkingmusic/ https://www.tiktok.com/@krystalkingmusic https://www.youtube.com/@krystalkingmusic   Connect with Margo: www.windowsillchats.com www.instagram.com/windowsillchats www.patreon.com/inthewindowsill https://www.yourtantaustudio.com/thefoundry  

Norman Greenbaum gave the world "Spirit in the Sky," one of the greatest records ever made. He chats with us about his iconic classic, as well as other musical adventures and misadventures over the last few decades. PART ONE: Paul and Scott chat about Instagram, artist accessibility, and what the heck Norman Greenbaum looks like. PART TWO:Our in-depth conversation with Norman GreenbaumABOUT NORMAN GREENBAUMNorman Greenbaum might be known as a one hit wonder, but that one hit is one of the most wonderous records to ever hit the airwaves. With its infectious groove and unparalleled fuzz tone guitar, “Spirit in the Sky” was recorded in San Francisco in 1969 and quickly climbed to the Top 5 in the US and number 1 in a half dozen countries around the world. It has been certified double platinum for sales of over 2 million, and is among Rolling Stone magazine's “500 Greatest Songs of All Time.” It has reached #1 in the UK in three different decades by three different artists and has been covered by everyone from Elton John to the Blind Boys of Alabama. After his debut LP, Greenbaum went on to release the albums Back Home Again and Petaluma in 1970 and 1972, respectively. Though he gave up recording in the early 1970s, “Spirit in the Sky” remains one of the most popular songs of all time. With nearly 600 million streams on Spotify alone, it has been featured in films such as Apollo 13, Oceans 11, and Guardians of the Galaxy, and in commercials for American Express, Chase Bank, Nike, and Budweiser. To celebrate the song's legacy, Craft Recordings has recently released a brand-new Dolby Atmos mix of the single as well as a new vinyl release of the long out-of-print Spirit in the Sky LP, cut from the original tapes. 

Joining us today is rising Canadian country artist Cam Brown, hailing from Barrie, Ontario. Fresh off opening for Dean Brody at this year's Troubadour Festival in his hometown, Cam is making waves with his original music. His debut single Pretty Lime Margarita recently climbed to #1 on the Canadian Indie Country Countdown and is now …

Roots troubadour Pat Tierney joins Francesca to reflect on a decade of songwriting, the power of creative community, and the process behind his latest album Lost in the Haze. From songwriting as self-expression to turning a weekly challenge into a lead single, this episode explores the beauty of showing up and staying true to your voice.About Pat: Pat Tierney is a lap slide guitarist and roots troubadour whose soulful fusion of blues and folk draws on influences like Bob Dylan, Ben Harper, and JJ Cale. Since his 2015 debut, he has toured extensively, performed at major Australian festivals, and shared stages with artists including The Beautiful Girls, Bobby Alu and Harry Manx. His acclaimed albums Red Moon and Lost in the Haze showcase his poetic songwriting and have earned national radio play, millions of streams, and multiple Queensland Music Award nominations. Tierney's heartfelt performances and socially conscious lyrics mark him as a standout voice in modern folk and roots music.Contact Pat: Website / Facebook / InstagramSong Credit: “Golden Lover, Silver Song" - Written by Pat Tierney. Performed by Pat Tierney. With thanks to Yama-Nui Records. Ready to deep dive into songwriting? Join our 10-week online intensive course to write 10 new songs with lessons, personalised mentorship and practical tools to refine your craft. Learn more at iheartsongwritingclub.com/songwritingcourses.Find out more and contact us at I Heart Songwriting Club & Francesca de Valence.Get your creativity, confidence, and songwriting output flowing. Join The Club and receive the support and structure to write 10 songs in 10 weeks and get feedback from a private peer community. Just getting started on your songwriting journey and need more hands-on support? Establish a firm foundation and develop your musical and lyric skills with our Beginner Songwriting Courses. Don't struggle to write your next album - write an album a year with ease! Watch our Free Songwriting Masterclass. Get songwriting insights from I Heart Songwriting Club: Instagram / Facebook / YouTubeBe inspired by Francesca on socials: YouTube / Facebook / InstagramTheme song: “Put One Foot In Front Of The Other One” music and lyrics by Francesca de Valence If you love this episode, please subscribe, leave a review and tell everyone you know about The Magic of Songwriting.

My Morning Jacket's Jim James chats with Simon and Brian about the creation of their latest record, is. The celebrated vocalist and guitarist discusses the band's collaboration with producer Brendan O'Brien, letting go of ego, and the role of dreams in songwriting. WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU! If you've ever listened to Sodajerker On Songwriting - be it casually or borderline obsessively - we'd love for you to take a few minutes to share your thoughts via this survey: https://forms.office.com/e/TnrqaA6PLp?origin=lprLink Your responses are anonymous and confidential, and they'll shape how we grow and improve the pod, as well as help support a postgraduate research project. Many thanks! Simon & Brian x

This week, the Emo Social Club charts the complete journey of Fil Thorpe. From his departure from pop-punk giants Neck Deep to forging a new cinematic sound with World's First Cinema, Fil discusses his past, present, and future in music. He shares insights on starting over, the creative process behind the new album "Something of Wonder," and his vision for what's to come.Topics Discussed:The decision to leave Neck Deep at the end of their third album cycle to move into production.The evolution of World's First Cinema from a film/TV sync project to a full-fledged band.The creative philosophy behind the debut album "Something of Wonder" and the goal of encapsulating the band's diverse, genre-blending sound.Reflections on the Warped Tour legacy and the "emo nostalgia" trend in the current music scene.The challenges and benefits of shifting from a large band to a two-person creative team.The story behind the single "Broken" and the decision to feature rapper JD Cliffe.Fil's vision for the future: creating authentic music that excites him personally rather than chasing viral trends.Thumbnail image from 1883 Magazine. Credit: @AnnaLeeMedia

Nuthin But Soul is the ultimate Jon Butcher record. We discuss with Jon and go down the gear and creation Rabbit Hole!

In this special episode of Americana Podcast, host Robert Earl Keen takes listeners on a journey from the heart of Nashville to the sun-soaked streets of Los Angeles, exploring the rich history and evolving future of Americana and Country music. His guest is Shooter Jennings, an outlaw by birth and a tastemaker by trade, who has carved out a unique role in shaping the genre's direction.As the son of country legend Waylon Jennings and a producer for artists like Tanya Tucker, Brandi Carlile, and The Turnpike Troubadours, Shooter brings deep insight into both the legacy and the innovation within the genre. He and Keen discuss the differences and connections between the Nashville and California country scenes, his approach to producing, and the upcoming release of never-before-heard music from Waylon Jennings.Listen to the full episode wherever you get your podcasts or watch it on the official Robert Earl Keen YouTube channel. Episodes and Bonus content available on YOUTUBE!https://www.youtube.com/@robertearlkeenofficial Donate to the show!https://tiptopjar.com/americanapodcastInstagram@robertearlkeen1Have questions or suggestions? Emailcreatedirector@robertearlkeen.com

We take a brief detour from Jack's Summer to talk about a sometimes-overlooked gem of a song that has fallen out of the live show in recent years for the most part. I haven't ever spoken to another fan who considers this one of their favorites. Is it one of your favorites? Review from hiddenjams.com: https://hiddenjams.com/2014/10/14/review-andrew-mcmahon-in-the-wilderness/ Live in DC, 2014: https://youtu.be/FdYT37QZeiA Live at Mohegan Sun, CT, 2015: https://youtu.be/XvPFsYNNLeg HuffPost article, 2014: https://www.huffpost.com/entry/fangs-wilderness-chats-w_b_8398818 Fan-made Music Video by December Hotel: https://youtu.be/_xsV4F_oAog

We take a brief detour from Jack's Summer to talk about a sometimes-overlooked gem of a song that has fallen out of the live show in recent years for the most part. I haven't ever spoken to another fan who considers this one of their favorites. Is it one of your favorites? Review from hiddenjams.com: https://hiddenjams.com/2014/10/14/review-andrew-mcmahon-in-the-wilderness/ Live in DC, 2014: https://youtu.be/FdYT37QZeiA Live at Mohegan Sun, CT, 2015: https://youtu.be/XvPFsYNNLeg HuffPost article, 2014: https://www.huffpost.com/entry/fangs-wilderness-chats-w_b_8398818 Fan-made Music Video by December Hotel: https://youtu.be/_xsV4F_oAog

In this episode of The Bandwich Tapes, I reconnect with my longtime friend Chad Jeffers. We go back to our days at Belmont University, and it's been incredible to watch his journey unfold, from growing up in East Tennessee playing in family bands to touring the world with some of the biggest names in music.Chad shares stories from his early days performing with his dad and brother, forming the band Raney Nickel, and eventually making his way to Nashville. After double-majoring in music business and marketing at Belmont, he landed an internship with Reba McEntire's company, which gave him a behind-the-scenes education in the industry. From there, his career took off, touring with The Wilkinsons, signing with RCA as part of Pinmonkey, and later joining Carrie Underwood's band.We discuss his experiences performing everywhere from Vegas residencies to overseas military tours, and the lessons he has learned along the way about professionalism, collaboration, and being someone others want to work with. Chad also shares how his creative energy has led him into real estate, where he now helps clients with the same focus and passion he brings to the stage.He even tells us about a new online course he has developed to help entrepreneurs prepare for client meetings, drawing unexpected yet powerful parallels between stage presence and business success.To learn more about Chat, visit his website at chadjeffers.com.Thank you for listening! If you have any questions, feedback, or ideas for the show, please contact me at brad@thebandwichtapes.com.The theme song, Playcation, was written by Mark Mundy. 

Démar and Adriel break down Haim's latest album 'I Quit', their closeness to black music and the idea of going 'indie rock mainstream'.Démar's rating: 6 / 10Adriel's rating: 5.5 / 10The Love List: Gone, Relationships, Spinning, Million YearsTimecodes:1:41-  Where does one go after peaking above indie pop mainstream2:26 - In some circles, people know them 4:44 - MJ comparison8:10 - First memory12:28 - This album is kind of like to good and bad of this genre of music  13:24 - Why do you need to reduce your sound to stomp clap 17:13 - Love you right is better than what it is  23:15 - Arlo Parks song27:58 - A ton of songs that could be singles30:00 - Almost too pop  31:34 - Overall good songwriters39:43 - Putting an artist in a category40:41 - What does this mean for their career44:56 - The Cover47:05 - The ScoreFollow us:TikTok: Album Mode: https://www.tiktok.com/@albummodepodAdriel: https://www.tiktok.com/@adrielsmileydotcom Démar: https://www.tiktok.com/@godkingdemiInstagram:Album Mode: https://www.instagram.com/albummodepod/Adriel: https://www.instagram.com/adrielsmileydotcom/Démar: https://www.instagram.com/demarjgrant/Twitter:Album Mode: https://twitter.com/AlbumModepodAdriel: https://twitter.com/AdrielSmiley_Démar: https://twitter.com/DemarJGrant ===================================Haim - I Quit / 2025 / indie, rock, pop, soft rock

Author Selena Fragassi ['Alanis: Thirty Years of Jagged Little Pill'] share the stories behind the six singles from Alanis Morissette's 1995 album 'Jagged Little Pill'.Listen To Episode 298: Alanis Morissette's 'Jagged Little Pill': A 30-Year Retrospective---------- BookedOnRock.comThe Booked On Rock Store The Booked On Rock YouTube Channel Follow The Booked On Rock with Eric Senich:BLUESKYFACEBOOKINSTAGRAMTIKTOKX Find Your Nearest Independent Bookstore Contact The Booked On Rock Podcast: thebookedonrockpodcast@gmail.com

This is an excerpt from Songwriting Pro's "J.A.M. Session." (J.A.M. stands for "Just Ask Me," and it's our monthly members-only online Q&A Session.) If you'd like to watch the full J.A.M. Session, just log in to the Songwriting Pro Member Area. If you're not yet a Songwriting Pro member, NOW is a great time to start your 14-day FREE trial at SongwritingPro.com! The C.L.I.M.B. Show is dedicated to helping singers, songwriters, indie artists and industry pros "Create Leverage In The Music Business." We want you to win! About the hosts: Brent Baxter is an award-winning hit songwriter with cuts by Alan Jackson (“Monday Morning Church”), Randy Travis, Lady A, Joe Nichols, Ray Stevens, Gord Bamford and more. He helps songwriters turn pro by helping them WRITE like a pro, DO BUSINESS like a pro and CONNECT to the pros. You can find Brent at SongwritingPro.com/Baxter and SongwritingPro.com. Johnny Dwinell owns Daredevil Production and helps artists increase their streams, blow up their video views, sell more live show tickets, and get discovered by new fans, TV and music industry pros. Daredevil has worked with artists including Collin Raye, Tracy Lawrence, Ty Herndon, Ronnie McDowell and others. You can find Johnny at TheCLIMBshow.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In this bonus podcast, Jim and Greg speak with the winners of the third annual Sound Opinions Songwriting Prize. These Columbia College Chicago students receive scholarship funds thanks to the Walter and Karla Goldschmidt Foundation.Sarai Cheek - Static LineMaddy Mastrine - Give Me the FlaskAlicia Maka - This Too Shall Pass--Become a member on Patreon: https://bit.ly/3slWZvcSign up for our newsletter: https://bit.ly/3eEvRnGMake a donation via PayPal: https://bit.ly/3dmt9lUSend us a Voice Memo: Desktop: bit.ly/2RyD5Ah Mobile: sayhi.chat/soundopsJoin our Facebook Group: https://bit.ly/3sivr9TSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

We're celebrating our 10th anniversary all year by digging in the vaults to re-present classic episodes with fresh commentary. Today, we're revisiting our 2021 conversation with Ani DiFranco. ABOUT ANI DIFRANCOSinger, songwriter, musician, producer, poet, author, spoken-word artist, activist and entrepreneur Ani DiFranco has released more than 20 independent studio albums on her own label, Righteous Babe Records. Though often classified as “alternative folk,” DiFranco's musical influences span a range of genres. After relentless touring, she reached a wide commercial audience in the late 1990s and early 2000s with albums such as Little Plastic Castle, Up Up Up Up Up Up, Revelling/Reckoning, Evolve, Educated Guess, and the gold-certified live album Living in Clip. The Grammy winner and nine-time nominee achieved her sole Top 40 hit as a songwriter when Alana Davis covered the DiFranco classic “32 Flavors” in 1997. The prolific and critically-acclaimed performer developed her own uniquely percussive guitar style and has collaborated with a range of artists, including Bon Iver's Justin Vernon, Bruce Cockburn, Pete Seeger, Utah Phillips, Maceo Parker, and Prince. In addition to releasing her own music, her label has issued recordings by Sara Lee, Andrew Bird, Nona Hendryx, and others. Ani was one of the first musicians to receive the Woman of Courage Award from the National Organization for Women, and was honored with both the Woody Guthrie Award and the Southern Center For Human Rights' Human Rights Award. Her memoir, No Walls and the Recurring Dream, was released in 2019 by Viking Books. At the time we spoke with her, the New Orleans-based DiFranco's 2021 album, Revolutionary Love, was just about to be released. 

In this episode of The When Words Fail Music Speaks Podcast, we dive into the world of music and mental health with our special guest, Michael Cagle. Michael is a nationally recorded artist with Universal/Version Records and has been named Entertainer of the Year six times. Join us as we explore his journey through the music industry, his experiences in Nashville and Seattle, and his passion for music as a tool for healing.Key Topics:BetterHelp Sponsorship: Learn about the benefits of online therapy with BetterHelp and how it can fit into your busy schedule.Michael Cagle's Journey: Discover Michael's path from New York to Seattle, his time in Nashville, and his role as an entertainment director.The Healing Power of Music: Explore how music has helped Michael and many others through life's ups and downs.Michael's Musical Influences: Hear about the artists who have inspired Michael, including Reba McEntire, Patti LaBelle, and more.Genres and Vocal Range: Understand Michael's classification as an adult contemporary, pop, and vocal artist, and his impressive vocal range as a tenor.Songwriting and Inspiration: Get insights into Michael's songwriting process, including his powerful anthem "I Rise" and his approach to recording music.Challenges in the Music Industry: Discuss the financial and logistical challenges artists face when performing at events and festivals.Favorite Artists and Songs: Michael shares his favorite singers and the songs that have deeply impacted him.Connect with Michael Cagle:Website: Balladbelter.comFacebook: Michael CagleInstagram: @michaelcagleStreaming Platforms: Available on Spotify, Apple Music, and more.Special Thanks:A big thank you to BetterHelp for sponsoring this episode. Visit betterhelp.com/musicspeaks for 10% off your first month of therapy.Closing Remarks:Thank you for tuning in to The When Words Fail Music Speaks Podcast. Remember, when words fail, music speaks. Join us next time for more inspiring stories and musical journeys.

Hall of Fame Musician and Golf Innovator, Kurt Howell, Chats 813.Golf, Inventing RôL™ (Roll On Line) Weight System for Putters, Recording & Touring, Song Writing, The Music Industry, PGA Tour & MoreBirdies & Bourbon welcomes Hall of Fame musician and golf innovator Kurt Howell to the show. Kurt shares his story of starting in the music industry, touring and recording with the best in the industry and turning his attention to golf. It was great to chat through his history with music and his passion for golf. In the year 2023, Kurt Howell, a versatile individual who possesses not only a deep passion for golf but also accomplishments in music and business, embarked on an extraordinary journey. While serving as the National Sales Manager at NTP Technology (DAD/Penta), he laid the foundation for 813.GOLF, an enterprise with a singular mission: to revitalize and safeguard the heritage of putters. What began as a humble garage hobby soon blossomed into something truly remarkable.After years of development, 813.golf has perfected a solution to enhance the center of gravity (CG) in most modern putters. By strategically adding mass behind the sweet spot, this innovative system improves feel and control—without disrupting most sightlines.USGA-approved, the RôL™ (Roll On Line) Weight System by 813.golf delivers unmatched feel, performance, and precision, setting a new standard in putting technology.Be sure to checkout Kurt and 813 Golf at the link below. https://www.813.golf/Apparel for the show provided by turtleson. Be sure to check them out online for the new season lineup at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://turtleson.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠/⁠⁠⁠⁠ Thanks to Fantasy National Golf Club for providing the stat engine for the show. They can be found at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.fantasynational.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ The Neat Glass. Be sure to check out The Neat Glass online at ⁠⁠⁠⁠theneatglass.com⁠⁠⁠⁠ or on Instagram @theneatglass for an improved experience and use discount code: bb10 to receive your Birdies & Bourbon discount. Thank you for taking the time listen to the Birdies & Bourbon Show for all things PGA Tour, golf, gear, bourbon and mixology. Dan & Cal aim to bring you entertaining and informative episodes weekly. Please help spread the word on the podcast and tell a friend about the show. You can also help by leaving an 5-Star iTunes review. We love to hear the feedback and support! Cheers. Follow on Twitter & Instagram (@birdies_bourbon)

Want to Start or Grow a Successful Business? Schedule a FREE 13-Point Assessment with Clay Clark Today At: www.ThrivetimeShow.com   Join Clay Clark's Thrivetime Show Business Workshop!!! Learn Branding, Marketing, SEO, Sales, Workflow Design, Accounting & More. **Request Tickets & See Testimonials At: www.ThrivetimeShow.com  **Request Tickets Via Text At (918) 851-0102   See the Thousands of Success Stories and Millionaires That Clay Clark Has Helped to Produce HERE: https://www.thrivetimeshow.com/testimonials/ Download A Millionaire's Guide to Become Sustainably Rich: A Step-by-Step Guide to Become a Successful Money-Generating and Time-Freedom Creating Business HERE: www.ThrivetimeShow.com/Millionaire   See Thousands of Case Studies Today HERE: www.thrivetimeshow.com/does-it-work/  

On this episode of the BobbyCast, Bobby sits down with country music singer/songwriter, John Morgan. John tells Bobby the story about how an Uber driver from the year before led him to a meeting and ultimately cutting a song with Jason Aldean. John also talked about the reason he drove a huge trailer to Bobby's house that day, why he still has a car with no AC in it, and how he discovered the secret to songwriting. Plus, Bobby asked John about his early childhood days and touring as an 11-year-old in a bluegrass band. Follow on Instagram: @TheBobbyCast Follow on TikTok: @TheBobbyCast Watch this Episode on Youtube See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.