stuartnewman: Blog

Update: Radio play, and new song!

stuartnewman — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 00:22:14 +0000

...

Radio Airplay - 15th July 2008 - BFBS Radio:

Frank McCarthy fronts BFBS Radio's (British Forces Broadcasting Service) showcase for new music with bands, sessions, gigs, festivals and music news: http://www.ssvc.co.uk/bfbs/radio/uk/frank_mccarthy.php

'51st State' played:

Frank McCarthy's Playlist Blog: http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=117976866&blogID=415087429

....

New song: "Summer Messin' " now up on Trig:
http://trig.com/stuartnewman/media/song/36778

The song basically (I don't like explaining songs, because it's each to get their own meaning, but I think with some songs that can be had with explanation too, so listen to it before you read the explanation if you like), is about all my frustrations recently. The 'waiting for a phone call' bit is pretty obvious. The 'Paul Simon...' just elludes to the fact I'm having to go back to 60s music for my listening (all this whilst the character is waiting for 'the call')... 'Ringo and Paul and that is all' shows how that music era is going (gone), how music 'moves on'... As for the second verse, well, let's say I have a mind, let's say it's not always controlled. The character battles with going crazy... I'm not saying any of these themes are 'new', but the song's got an off-the-cuff feel (as it should having been virtually just that) and what flows from my mind you can hear... There are other things in there... In my head it's a guy who's laying on his bed waiting for that someone to call, listening to sixities music, whilst slowly going crazy, in a drugged up, high, sort of way. You be the judge. Let me know if you liked/disliked me explaining the song. I can't work out if people want 'insight' or feel this blogging lark is just not needed. Let me know.

Johnny Cash

stuartnewman — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 21:17:50 +0000

I can’t say I’m a huge Johnny Cash fan, or that I know anything like the main songs he’s written. But having seen the film about the man again, I decided to finish off the song I wrote from his perspective. It was the song I was writing when my soundcard broke recently, and I can only record one take (or edit out mistakes) i.e. no overdubbing is available right now. So it’s a straight take, pretty much. I hope people like it.

"Cash" - Now on my profile and on my playlist.

The Day The Music Died...

stuartnewman — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 15:23:16 +0000

Well today, the day I get on the front page of Trig, my soundcard has given up. I now cannot listen to music, or create music. I was currently working on a Johnny Cash-ilk song, and the card stopped working. It's added to a string of unfortunate events in recent months, that has indeed left me in this rather cheery mood. I just hope there is a good period coming up, because to even this out, it will have to be awesome.... here's to hoping.

SN

Something coming?

stuartnewman — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 03:03:03 +0000

Well... the future's coming.... and I'm not hopeful. So today, the creative output that surfaced to sum it all up came in the way of 'High and Mighty'....of the 'All by Myself - Green Day - Dookie' type hidden track ilk.... perhaps a hidden track to feature on my album, in that pipedream-pipeline...

Lyrics:

Well I’m leaving you now,

And I’m leavin’ a note,

With a string in my hand,

And a noose round my throat,

Well I know,

It’s all unknown

Sell my soul to my heart

And then get a divorce,

Wear my lungs on my sleeve,

And breath in the remorse,

Well I know,

You’ll throw a stone

Well you’re battered and lonely,

And don’t give a shit,

Whether happy go lucky,

Human skin that don’t fit

Feel so so,

And you don’t know,

Can you tell that I’m seething?

And so sick of it,

Can you smell the fake pleasure?

As if that’s really it

Got to go,

Before you explode.

Feedback

stuartnewman — Fri, 16 May 2008 17:34:32 +0000

I was wondering what people thought their top 3 songs of mine, in order of preference were, and top four. (I think companies prefer 3 songs when submiting a demo) When I submit demos to various companies it'd be good to know what the majority of the triggers think. Thanks.

SN

Poem and a Picture 5

stuartnewman — Sat, 10 May 2008 19:19:00 +0000

Texture Words.

The irrelevant banter of a salesman’s pitch,

To the scornful hope of scratching an itch,

Above all that is stone to the mimic man’s twitch,

These are the words of a great.

The development of self in order to ride,

A progress from health up to the inside,

A regress that leads to thought full of pride,

These are the words of a great.

The elephant remembering how to forget,

The lioness who’s face flows with regret,

The crocodile’s teeth the sharper they get,

These are the words of a great.

The uncomfortable truth that lingers around,

The knowledge of hearing a better man’s sound,

The knowing of yearning your talents are bound,

These are the words I create.

Thoughts to release some pressure.

stuartnewman — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 12:56:28 +0000

Right now, my view of the world seems to be from the point of view of me wearing my ‘scepticals’. 90%+ of all the music I’m hearing is either so cliché it hurts, or so experimental and unpalatable I want to scream. The only thing to do is to revisit the 60s and become more obscure with the bands one discovers, or to trawl through the utter tripe on myspace or wherever for the one song in around 100 worth keeping in your collection and revisiting. I have no problem with people trying to see what they can creatively come up with, but for anyone’s sake, please re-evaluate what you do, don’t put out you on guitar playing three chords, or doing a cover. If that is seriously your attempt at music, stop and read a book, try and at least further the thought paradigms within yourself.

There’s no moral high ground here… I’m just as bad, in that I’ve attempted to create things, tried to create synergies, tried to be creative… but it worries me that the swamp of mediocrity and below is swallowing people’s talents that may stop playing music because the countless copycat bands are ‘in a band’. Every band produces some rubbish at some point, it may not be sent out into the world, but they will produce some poor stuff at some point, try and avoid it happening, and stop advertising at us if you’re nothing new. The music industry is so saturated, the classic guitar, bass, drums, combo is over used, whilst there are infinite variations, it’s still mostly a theme. One has to try and look to the likes of ‘Michael Andrews’ or 'The Eels' for ‘off-indie’ alternatives, but not so off indie/pop/alternative that it turns into something for the ‘cult’ audiences. I like to think, as everyone would say, my music tastes stretch across genres, some days Eminem sounds brilliant, other days, the Everly Brothers… My genres of listening pleasure tend to go between, pop punk, alternative, pop, 60s, folk rock… but the ‘mainstream’ culture seems to focus among these ‘new’ indie bands… Whilst one wouldn’t belittle their attempts, of musicianship, it bores me… and sometimes puts me off music. Some of the best music I have heard can sometimes be totally random, like comedy can (another cliché-filled bored in the mainstream)… No one other than the Beatles was ever going to come up with Strawberry Fields, in the way it was… or Bohemian Rhapsody (as overplayed as that now is)… simply unique. Simply those bands’ brand/uniqueness.

I guess that’s what I try to get near in music creation. I guess everybody else will be the judge.

Poem and a Picture 4

stuartnewman — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 20:54:31 +0000

The lyrics for my 'Cry Wolf' song were taken from this poem I had written called "Optimisn't "

Banality of thought,
Clichés all around,
I’ve read it before,
Ideas used to the ground…

I could follow it through,
You could shout at me more,
I could make it all up,
Like I’ve done times before.

I could even cry wolf,
Let it in from the door,
Or I could just fight on,
But my tears will still pour…

I could wallow in self-pity,
Self indulge ‘til I fall,
Vomit up a thought or two,
Or not fight on at all…

Or… I could just sleep,
Let the night clean me up,
Let dreams take me places,
Where half-full is the cup…

…and in the morning I’ll rise,
Like the sun does each day,
No need to feel low again,
Because it will be okay.

Peom and a Picture 3

stuartnewman — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 18:28:35 +0000

He’s a Card

Sometimes it just feels like,
I'm right, and the rest are left.
How can I please these jokers?
Soulless, left needing; bereft.

Sometimes it just feels like,
I’m sound, but the rest are deaf,
How can I leave these jokers?
Homeless, left seething; a mess.

Sometimes it just feels like,
I’m proud to not be the rest,
How can I need these jokers?
They leave me unhappy; depressed.

Sometimes it just feels like,
It’s all getting out of hand,
How can they play their joker?
When I know I am that man.

Poem and a Picture 2

stuartnewman — Sat, 19 Apr 2008 17:12:55 +0000

Make Light of the Darkness

I’ve found out that,
It’s easier,
To play the game of theirs,
For I was born,
Alone as me,
Caught up in their affairs.

I’ve read the rules,
It’s simpler,
But the game has little meaning,
For I was torn,
Between a path,
Between Earth’s floor, its ceiling

I’ve said my piece,
It’s meaning:
To say that all is broken.
For I lack feeling,
I do not care,
Never a truer word’s spoken.

I’ll leave you now,
It’s best,
I’ll only bring you down,
We’ll chat soon,
Under light of moon,
And we’ll debate this town

Poem and a Picture 1

stuartnewman — Fri, 18 Apr 2008 17:12:58 +0000

Knowing The Feeling

People give lip service to knowing the feeling,
The feeling inside of me, that leaves me left reeling,
The feeling of sorrow at simply just being,
The feeling of knowing that - the feeling I’m seeing.

You’re right it is selfish; That, I don’t think I query,
But saying ‘cheer up’ doesn’t further the theory,
Or make me feel better knowing my internal dwell,
Of course I know I’m not the only one living this hell!

But don’t you see, don’t you see, none of this helps,
I’m not made up like you; I’m not like yourself,
I react differently to, and react differently from,
Every sense that you smell, to the taste of your tongue.

So just leave me alone, or take me under your wing,
Push me right away, or harmonize and let’s sing,
But know either way, when we go back to sleep,
You’ll feel just like normal, and I - incomplete.

Poetry

stuartnewman — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 16:23:31 +0000

They say you should write about what you know... but If Socrates followed such advice, he would have written nothing. I never claim to be literate, or well read, of course like the masses i can fake some things, I know what quality is, and sometimes how to get it. I don't read many poems, but I do write as a creative release, and if you've read this far, you might wanna continue to have you minds' eye poked a little..... (some recent poems):

Uni - Just For Me

A flow of thinking,
To slow the drinking,
So low the sinking,
Just for me.

You’ve sown the seeding,
A shown misreading,
Lonesome misleading
Just for me.

A kinder wording,
A mind for herding,
Caged my learning,
Just for me.

Taken my money,
Make hay if it’s sunny
Isn’t that funny?
Just for me.

Shaken my spirits,
It’s not for the thrill it’s…
Something else ‘n’ it’s,
All…Just for me.

A Perfect World

Rest in peace rationality,
Everyone’s willing to sue,
‘Invest in peace, apparently’;
If only that were true.

In jest we speak inherently,
At best we learn to be true,
‘Invest in people, apparently’
The future’s in people, who knew?

We’ve lost all the morality,
But we’d never decide on that,
‘Invest in the future, apparently’
Am I the only one smelling a rat?

People! Try to think with clarity,
You don’t need to follow the herd,
Ideally there’s no need for charity,
A perfect world. How absurd.

Challenge

I’m all for the pleasant,
Not everything has to challenge
It can stroke too.

I’m all for the balance,
Not everything has to challenge,
It can provoke too.

I’m all for the talents,
Not everything has to challenge,
It can evoke too.

I’m all for the “haven’ts”
Not everyone has balance
I can assure you.

T. H.

I’m not in the mood to go jumping through hoops,
Or make words jumping off of the page,
I’m not in the place of contentment or hope,
It’s all I’ve got to stop feeding the rage.

I’m not in the game of playing my rules,
I get jealous of myself all the time,
I write poems one way, and I can’t get away,
Downwards, continued decline.

All I want is simple and there,
But I can’t fight myself anymore,
True hopeless is knowing this game,
True hopeless is knowing the blame,
True hopeless is knowing insane,
True hopeless.
True hopeless.
True pain.

Now if you're here, you've either jumped to the end, because you prefer the twittering of this guy (me) rather than the poetry, or you couldn't be bothered to read them, or something else entirely. I don't claim they all work perfectly, sometimes they do, other times, well. hmm.... but I may post some more, or not, I'm not sure, many more can be gotten from me if you ask nicely :) maybe.....

peace out. (or something equally liberal as to not offend anyone. I'm afraid to breathe these days, don't wanna offend an asthmatic)

S. N.
x

Passing on the past.

stuartnewman — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 22:14:07 +0000

For, is it the shots in the dark?

Or the walks in the park,

Or the biting remark,

That we’re living this lark?

Those feelings you feel,

When “nothing is real”,

When “Hey Jude” doesn’t heal,

St Pepper , but no meal.

For, is it the shots in the dark?

Or the walks in the park,

Or the biting remark,

That we’re living this lark?

When you’re not feeling groovy,

No soundtrack to ya movie,

Mrs Robinson drank my smoothie,

Whisper words of wisdom: ‘let it be’.