I must apologize, dear "Beauty is Imperfection" reader. I posted six new songs the other day, and advertised one that I don't think was quite ready for air time. Though I won't bore you with technical details, suffice it to say that I do the final mixing of these songs in my headphones to make them sound the best I can (with my limited technical ability). "TV Head" is a song I like a lot, and though I worked hard to make it sound good in actual speakers, I didn't realize how much the song would be hurt by the thin bandwidth of an MP3 and the even more horrible degradations of the MySpace player, didn't realize how the diminishing sonic returns of such formats would make my ditty sound really rank by the time it reached your tender ears. I should have given it an extra listen, and I didn't. I've tried to fix some problems, but I might well take it down and futz with it a little before reposting. Sorry if you heard it and it made you sick. I guess it's too much to ask you to imagine how it should sound.
Just when I was most disillusioned, I had dinner and wine with a new friend last night, an excellent musician named Christian who has really got music production down and understands audio engineering in ways I can barely fathom. You can check out his work with his band Montalfish here and see what I'm talking about.
Christian was very gracious to give my music a listen last night and tell me that, despite its flaws, it has some promise, and I'm grateful for some of the tips he gave me, mostly about my drum parts (not tight!)
But since that will take some time, and since I'm not as disappointed with some of the other songs on here, I've decided to share the next one with you anyway.
This one is called "Leaving Babylon," and is a short story of political intrigue set to music. I should add that I created an alternate version of the melody sung by cats that, as far as I know, is the only recording my wife likes.
"Leaving Babylon" By Eric Rasmussen Copyright 2010
He was just right out of college On his first tour of Baghdad Working for a private concern, a no-bid contract for his dad His first assignment is to carry a suitcase filled with pounds and gold A payoff for some Baathist Army to keep the locals in the fold
He was disguised inside a convoy when they hit an IED He was blinded and left bleeding, an Arab boy helped him to see
For two months in a cinder block cell, the Arabs retrain him as their own To hold the standard of the Sunni, fighting for the pan-Arab home But he was carrying special orders, with that million dollar check Embarrassing to the multi-nationals, the M15 marks him for death
He doesn’t even know his father He doesn’t even know his name He just wants to find some morals In a world where there’s no blame
In business handshakes there flowers money On CNN there flowers fame But only purity of purpose Can keep the borderline man sane,
He’s caught downwind of fair Bathsheeba, her ablutions drove him mad And he lost his moral compass Lay her body in the sand
Swimming in her shallow kisses, don’t know which God to call by name So he raced out into the desert Sackcloth ashes and a cane
Have you come to throw a boulder And to strike Goliath dead? Or could you wake up back at Dartmouth With a co-ed in your bed?
Someone take me to the Green Zone Call the Congress if you please! Let me just talk to my mother I throw myself upon my knees
As you lived among the Pagans Did you lose your mother tongue? Did you eat the heathen idols As Bathsheeba drew her gun?
Someone take me to your leader I don’t want to die alone! How I weep as if for Zion And for my imagined home