I'm a musician, and to be frank, my dad is not. Not to say he doesn't like music or doesn't understand it, he just doesn't create it. Naturally, he's not one to go to for musical help.
Just yesterday, my band (The Sepiatones. We're way cool) were working on writing a song. It started simple, but as we began to work out the kinks, we were amazed at what we had just written! It was a fusion of epic guitar, Icelandic style drumming and a thumping bass lead! It may be one the the coolest songs i'd heard, and we had written it. With just one problem; we didn't have lyrics. And after an hour of pounding on the piano and getting really frusterated, I left the practice barn (yes, we practice in a barn) despondant at our lack of lyrical genius.
There I was, six hours later, laying on the floor, pounding a beat out with my feet like a kid throwing a temper tantrum spouting out random words. Needless to say I probably look a little silly to my dad who was passing by. He knew my dillemma, because it was all I had talked about for that day.
"Thinkin' of lyrics?" He asked, giving me a quizatical stare.
"Yeah, i've got nothing though." my reply reeked with a desprate tone.
"Try reading something! You can often find inspiration there," yeah right, Mr. Musician dad.
"Yeah, sure. i'll try" With that he left, and I kept pounding, getting no where. Finally, I picked up some Walt Whitman and started reading "The Open Road". And what do you know? Twenty minutes later, I had the first verse and chorus. Funny... I guess my dad knew what he was talking about!
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