World peace is finally at hand. More specifically, at my right hand. Can you feel it?
My first album, entitled "Huh??" is finally out! Before you read on, go and preview it here:
Huh??
Ok, now buy it.
Now buy two more copies for Uncle Sally and Aunt George. Each.
Ok, now read on.
First of all, a note on the "Explicit" tag: it's just the word "bitch" in the song "Your Favorite Girl." With that song title, it was impossible to avoid. Oh wait, my bad, it's not in that song. It's in the song "High Maintenance." Hmm...I'm starting to doubt I wrote this album.
Other notes:
1. These are all originals...like most songs in the world...but these happen to be written by me. The singer is also coincidentally me, though I'm not sure that's as happy a coincidence.
2. That's my real hair on the album cover.
3. My band name for this album is Something Kinky. I realize this may be a little too kinky for some people, but this is Sermon on the Couch after all, and a modern Moses uses all the tools at his disposal.
4. The album will also soon be available on iTunes and a bunch of other online stores, I'll put up the list.
Next, here's the plan. Each of you tells at least 1000 people about this album, and they all go out (to their respective living rooms, to their computers) and buy it. Afterwards, when I'm rich, you can all come stay at my mansion and live off of my massive untaxed interest.
I'll try to give some info on each song next time, but right now it's time to attend to the screaming fans outside my window. Wait...reality check...I'm lucid dreaming!
Showing posts with label album. Show all posts
Showing posts with label album. Show all posts
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Nothing Happens Pretty Often
Mom finally listened to my songs. I'm suddenly not sure at all if it was a good idea to let her sensitive ears anywhere near my creations. With her suggestions, seems the album won't be released till 2013 after all. Back to the studio for me.
Ok, just emerged from the home studio.
Good news: album release is being pushed (pulled?) to this year.
Bad news: it's getting pushed up because making it significantly better is a pain in the ass and takes way too much skills and patience. My patience is tied up keeping my pants from falling down, so the album's going to have to suck it up and suck a little more.
The latest developments concerning OCD:
Pei: my roommate was cleaning up the balcony. I was helping her.
Mark: by yelling at her to clean faster?
Pei: she is a monica indeed. I kept telling her, it's ok it's ok...
Pei: but she wouldn't listen. :D
Pei: I don't mind there is trash on the balcony.
Pei: I don't live on the balcony
Mark: hmm, so we have 4 degrees of people
Mark: ur roommate doesn't care if there's trash on the moon
Mark: u don't care if there's trash on the balcony
Mark: i don't care if there's trash in my room
Mark: and mario doesn't care if there's trash in his breakfast cereal
...I feel like we're missing a degree in between the last two. And Franco with his putting-trash-in-the-fridge needs to be in there somewhere.
On Americans:
Pei: americans like turtles
...
Mark: do u think americans have actually been on the moon?
Madelyn: not really...
...
Pei: how slow american clocks run
...
Pei: I blame american everything
...
Pei: I believe americans are weird
...
Pei: yea americans need help
...
Pei: of course I know. and I know the reasons too. I think it's because american faces are too big.
...
Pei: u ignorant american people
...
Mark: i'm an american
Zhang: qu ! (get away from me)
...
Zhang: sorry, forgot u r american
...
Zhang: silly american cannot understand
Oof, Chinese people sure have a lot to say about Americans, especially when looked at out of context.
Today was low on ideas for blog-writing, so Madelyn helped me out:
Madelyn: what about a glass of water
Madelyn: what will you think of when you see a glass of water
Hmm...who knows what I would have thought of before. Now I'm doomed (blessed?) to think of this conversation.
Madelyn: haha
Mark: haha is an idea or just haha-ing?
Inspiration, where are you?
Ok, just emerged from the home studio.
Good news: album release is being pushed (pulled?) to this year.
Bad news: it's getting pushed up because making it significantly better is a pain in the ass and takes way too much skills and patience. My patience is tied up keeping my pants from falling down, so the album's going to have to suck it up and suck a little more.
The latest developments concerning OCD:
Pei: my roommate was cleaning up the balcony. I was helping her.
Mark: by yelling at her to clean faster?
Pei: she is a monica indeed. I kept telling her, it's ok it's ok...
Pei: but she wouldn't listen. :D
Pei: I don't mind there is trash on the balcony.
Pei: I don't live on the balcony
Mark: hmm, so we have 4 degrees of people
Mark: ur roommate doesn't care if there's trash on the moon
Mark: u don't care if there's trash on the balcony
Mark: i don't care if there's trash in my room
Mark: and mario doesn't care if there's trash in his breakfast cereal
...I feel like we're missing a degree in between the last two. And Franco with his putting-trash-in-the-fridge needs to be in there somewhere.
On Americans:
Pei: americans like turtles
...
Mark: do u think americans have actually been on the moon?
Madelyn: not really...
...
Pei: how slow american clocks run
...
Pei: I blame american everything
...
Pei: I believe americans are weird
...
Pei: yea americans need help
...
Pei: of course I know. and I know the reasons too. I think it's because american faces are too big.
...
Pei: u ignorant american people
...
Mark: i'm an american
Zhang: qu ! (get away from me)
...
Zhang: sorry, forgot u r american
...
Zhang: silly american cannot understand
Oof, Chinese people sure have a lot to say about Americans, especially when looked at out of context.
Today was low on ideas for blog-writing, so Madelyn helped me out:
Madelyn: what about a glass of water
Madelyn: what will you think of when you see a glass of water
Hmm...who knows what I would have thought of before. Now I'm doomed (blessed?) to think of this conversation.
Madelyn: haha
Mark: haha is an idea or just haha-ing?
Inspiration, where are you?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Coming Soon To Your Friendly Nearby Internet
I've been writing and recording music lately, trying to get enough songs together to get an album up on iTunes. Quantity has finally reached its goal, and I've been sneakily testing quality on various so-called friends and family. The reviews/reactions so far have been pretty mixed. My friends in China generally give me at least one thumb up, partly because their culture doesn't allow them to voice criticism, and partly because of the One-Person-One-Thumb policy in China.
My family is generally supportive, though they express this support in very different ways. The "generally supportive" average is reached primarily thanks to my sister, who lavishes praise with a heavy hand regardless and especially irregardless of quality. (Somewhere Perry is getting very very angry about my word usage. Lucy, do what you can for him). "Mark! You wrote that!?" she shrieks. "It's soo good! You're amazing!" My guess is that up till now she thought I was clinically retarded, because I can literally play one chord and elicit that response.
My mother, the most musically inclined of my subscribers, is eager to listen to my creations but only has time to do so on the 32nd of every month. Never fear, my supreme patience is holding stong.
Gene, who now runs out of the house if you call him "Dad," gives a two-for-one deal: reserved praise and vague criticism. "Hey! That's...pretty good...but something's missing...I don't know what," is his well-rehearsed response. He is as consistent and oblivious to quality as my sister, though in a different slice on the spectrum.
Grandma and Boris never say a single word about the quality of the music. They react, but I haven't decided how to interpret their reaction yet. Usually it goes something like this:
(a three course meal is shoved down Mark's throat to lull him into a false sense of security and a very real sense of nausea)
Grandma: sing us one of your songs! You never sing to us!
Mark: ugh...I only sing to my microphone. But you can hear my computer imitate me. Want to?
Grandma: you didn't eat anything today! Do you want some strawberries? Plums? Chocolate? Herring? Pickles? I know! Let's drink a shot together!
(If you're wondering about the exclamation points, Grandma lives at around 130 decibels)
Mark: no thanks, I only drink with Michelle.
Grandma: well at least have some bread. Nuts. Potatoes. Want me to make you a steak? Pancakes? Why aren't you playing your song to me!?
Mark: uhh...good point. (Turns song on)
Grandma (listens for 5 seconds): BORIS! GET OVER HERE, MARK'S PLAYING US HIS SONGS!
Boris (from the kitchen): meh? You say something?
(They arm themselves with megaphones and yell into each other's earpieces for the next three songs. Boris finally comes over. Mark writhes in pain on the carpet; he is congenitally incapable of habituating to sonic warfare)
Grandma: is that your song playing?
Mark: ye...e...e...s.
Grandma: Boris, listen! Don't fall asleep, you old goat!
Boris: I'm not sleeping, I'm listening!
(5 seconds pass)
(Mark quietly gets up, negotiates the two blissfully snoring geezers, packs his things and drives himself to the hospital)
(scroll down three days and repeat)
Neither Grandma nor Boris has stayed awake for the duration of a single song, which is 3.5 mins on average. Good? Bad? I don't know but I'm going to be optimistic. At their age, if they don't die of something, it's probably really really really ridiculously good.
Mario is the only one who gives constructive feedback. Unfortunately, by some crazy coincidence, he's the one person whose advice I never listen to. Can't do anything about it, the decision was made a long time ago.
Chun is busy 758 hours a week so she has no time to give feedback. My turn to be the object of her attention was coming up, but then a little thing called Daylight Savings Time stole my spot. Now she's back in her exercise wheel, dancing her way into medical school. Don't stand in her way, she has a mean left pirouette.
And finally, there was one person outside the usual circle who got a taste of this album (that's coming soon to your friendly nearby Internet). That was my aunt. Around Christmas, she demanded I send her a song. Being an obedient little nephew, I obliged...and that was the last I heard from her. I should really go check if she's OK. Hmm...nah, I'll just wait till next Christmas. If she doesn't show up, then I'll know something's wrong. Never too late to call 911.
My family is generally supportive, though they express this support in very different ways. The "generally supportive" average is reached primarily thanks to my sister, who lavishes praise with a heavy hand regardless and especially irregardless of quality. (Somewhere Perry is getting very very angry about my word usage. Lucy, do what you can for him). "Mark! You wrote that!?" she shrieks. "It's soo good! You're amazing!" My guess is that up till now she thought I was clinically retarded, because I can literally play one chord and elicit that response.
My mother, the most musically inclined of my subscribers, is eager to listen to my creations but only has time to do so on the 32nd of every month. Never fear, my supreme patience is holding stong.
Gene, who now runs out of the house if you call him "Dad," gives a two-for-one deal: reserved praise and vague criticism. "Hey! That's...pretty good...but something's missing...I don't know what," is his well-rehearsed response. He is as consistent and oblivious to quality as my sister, though in a different slice on the spectrum.
Grandma and Boris never say a single word about the quality of the music. They react, but I haven't decided how to interpret their reaction yet. Usually it goes something like this:
(a three course meal is shoved down Mark's throat to lull him into a false sense of security and a very real sense of nausea)
Grandma: sing us one of your songs! You never sing to us!
Mark: ugh...I only sing to my microphone. But you can hear my computer imitate me. Want to?
Grandma: you didn't eat anything today! Do you want some strawberries? Plums? Chocolate? Herring? Pickles? I know! Let's drink a shot together!
(If you're wondering about the exclamation points, Grandma lives at around 130 decibels)
Mark: no thanks, I only drink with Michelle.
Grandma: well at least have some bread. Nuts. Potatoes. Want me to make you a steak? Pancakes? Why aren't you playing your song to me!?
Mark: uhh...good point. (Turns song on)
Grandma (listens for 5 seconds): BORIS! GET OVER HERE, MARK'S PLAYING US HIS SONGS!
Boris (from the kitchen): meh? You say something?
(They arm themselves with megaphones and yell into each other's earpieces for the next three songs. Boris finally comes over. Mark writhes in pain on the carpet; he is congenitally incapable of habituating to sonic warfare)
Grandma: is that your song playing?
Mark: ye...e...e...s.
Grandma: Boris, listen! Don't fall asleep, you old goat!
Boris: I'm not sleeping, I'm listening!
(5 seconds pass)
(Mark quietly gets up, negotiates the two blissfully snoring geezers, packs his things and drives himself to the hospital)
(scroll down three days and repeat)
Neither Grandma nor Boris has stayed awake for the duration of a single song, which is 3.5 mins on average. Good? Bad? I don't know but I'm going to be optimistic. At their age, if they don't die of something, it's probably really really really ridiculously good.
Mario is the only one who gives constructive feedback. Unfortunately, by some crazy coincidence, he's the one person whose advice I never listen to. Can't do anything about it, the decision was made a long time ago.
Chun is busy 758 hours a week so she has no time to give feedback. My turn to be the object of her attention was coming up, but then a little thing called Daylight Savings Time stole my spot. Now she's back in her exercise wheel, dancing her way into medical school. Don't stand in her way, she has a mean left pirouette.
And finally, there was one person outside the usual circle who got a taste of this album (that's coming soon to your friendly nearby Internet). That was my aunt. Around Christmas, she demanded I send her a song. Being an obedient little nephew, I obliged...and that was the last I heard from her. I should really go check if she's OK. Hmm...nah, I'll just wait till next Christmas. If she doesn't show up, then I'll know something's wrong. Never too late to call 911.
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