Yet another expedition into the Grinsell archives yields a fruitful bounty of blogs and Nesquik mix. However, as I shuffle through the darkness my ears catch a faint whistling echo in the distance. ”Merely the wind,” I say as I brush off my dusty memories of old sheriffs and Barney Fife. I continue my journey, with the determination of a guido at a nightclub, but I can’t help but think that some music would indeed lighten the mood as the cold dark surrounds me…
Oh, so it’s Thursday? That means the only class you have is a discussion for an introductory course on scratching your butt. You already have a B in that so there’s really no reason you should wake up before ten-thirty. Once the relentless sunshine rustles you from your slumber, you realize you got nothing to do today. You could sit on the couch and doing homework scratching your butt and it wouldn’t even matter! So you whip out the Mac Book and suddenly it hits you. Today, you are becoming a musician. And it’s all thanks to this little guy.
A Day in the Life of a GarageBand Musician.
Phase 1: Optimism.
As the little guitar icon bounces up and down in eager anticipation to destroy your hopes and dreams, an almost overwhelmingly strong wave of positivity cascades over the Musician. Thoughts wander to back stage parties, hotel foam parties, and Bob Saget Parties. The program finally loads and gates of musical paradise have opened. It’s time to make some music.
Phase 2: Snack Break.
We recommend Gushers. After a grueling fifteen minutes setting up GarageBand with the new Billboard chart topper, a musician wants food that gushes flavor in the same way their fans will be gushing adoration for the rock star’s tight pants. Everyone loves fans. Except for the groupies. Groupies are nasty.
Phase 3: Choosing a genre.
Usually when someone makes a song, they like to stick with formulas and styles they are comfortable with and have proven successful in the past. Since an up-and-coming musician doesn’t want to make a potentially career altering move so early in the game, a GB Musician must at all costs throw in a hint of every genre they have been exposed to in the last five years. EVERY. GENRE. No exceptions.
This decision allows the artist to remain “hot and fresh” so as not to become old, stale, and irrelevant like that Bob Dylan guy. If Owl City can hit number one with his monster hit, “Koala Bear Skylines Behind Electric Eel Sunsets” than anyone can, right?
Phase 3: Smoke Break.
If you don’t smoke, skip this step. If you do smoke, this will be the first of many. I hope you bought a new pack of Camel Crushes, because you are going to need them.
Phase 4: Looking around the house for lyrical/band name inspiration.
At this point, the musician understands that the next sentences they write must be the most insightful they have ever penned. They must write something that shows off their caring, thoughtful side, while establishing themselves . The closest thing to them is a lamp, so their song must be about being a light in the darkness.
But mostly, it’ll come across like a song that was written about a lamp. Also, band names that contain the word Mud or Mudd or any other spelling are gonna have it rough. A musician must spend more time naming the band than actually being in the band. Crucial step.
Phase 6: Lunch Break.
A musician must be careful with their diet. Their body is now a national treasure along the lines of Monica Lewinski’s blue dress. No longer can one eat what they want, but rather, they are confided to the brown-bagged lunches of champions and diplomats.
Anything with unnecessary syllables or accents is now their bread and butter. Goodbye chunky chicken noodle with a Snickers, hello Ayam Bakar with a side of Achaar. Which may sound like a plateful of jihad, but actually is quite the tasty Indonesian dish. (We do not condone the eating of snickering puppies. That’s something a meanie pants would do.)
Phase 7: Actually recording musical sounds.
Now that their belly is full of top shelf delicacies, the music must be made. The next two hours will be spent with the tinkering with the distortion on the bass. This is not a fruitful phase. Nothing gets done. Another Camel Crush is consumed.
Phase 8: Talent Haters.
Any successful GB musician will say that a fundamental part of becoming a successful entertainer is addressing those who don’t share the same artistic vision as you. You have to address these people in as many songs as possible, so you can let them haters know who has the true skills. Be sure to reference the haters at any given opportunity, even if there are no haters. The people who say, “We aren’t haters, we just want you to shut up,” are secret haters, and are not to be trusted. When it appears there are no haters, that’s when people hate the most.
Phase 9: Taking a step back to admire the work.
A musician must be aware of the socio-economic environment they are releasing their music into. Are the people ready? Is it too progressive? Will there be enough room in the mailbag for all the letters of gratitude? The answer is always no, to all of these questions. It’s in a musician’s blood oath to change the landscape of music forever, starting with trimming off the nu-metal leaves. It’s really time to kick that one to the curb.
Phase 10: Party and Wait for praise.
At this point, a musician will want to turn off all their phones, as they will be ringing off the hook. It’s time to spend some alone time with their thoughts and a mountain of drugs, and exotic animals. It’s time to get so weird they turn into corn.
At this point, all interest is lost in finishing the project, and it becomes yet another shelved work of genius. Years later, a musician will come across their old pieces of work, and upload them various places in an attempt to raise interest and relevance. However… it will still sound mostly like songs about lamps.
p.s. included is my own landscape shaping piece of futuristic art. Let it load, and revel in my mastery.