Clarification.

When I wrote that good songs are original in
Subject
Melody and
Structure

I should have been more explicit (I was sleepy when I wrote all that):

Subject. Yes you can write about love. But you better be very, very careful since this subject has been well explored by other songwriters. In fact, it's best not to even say the word.

Melody. Yep, I think every melody has pretty much been written. So at least use one that very few people, including you, have heard. Too many songs have an obvious melodic reference whether to song type, song writer (how many songs have I heard that sound like Loudon Wainwright III?), or an actual song.

Structure. I am very flexible on this. In fact I almost regret writing it. In additional fact, if the other two points are taken care of, I do take it back. I love Three Chords and the Truth. I love AABA. There is still more to be explored in these two structures. (As I've always said when I write yet another song with a D chord: There is so much to understand about a chord; so much to learn about what it does, what it is.)

"Country music is three chords and the truth."
-Harlan Howard

There I feel better. I hope you do too.

Alan Sturt visited Mill Pond today.

I've been a member of SongAnon, a songwriter's group that meets at the Trinity House Theatre in Northville, for a couple of years now. It's where I first learned about simultaneously using two (different) capos from Dan Hazlett. I've also been able to hear some very fine songs. And the ones by Alan have always stood out.

Alan brought a few of his array of instruments:

A baritone lap acoustic:

A Wechter Resonator:

A regular lap acoustic:

And then he played some songs:

On my Larrivee too:

Alan is a documenter of stories, of people, and of history. He writes in the true folk manner. His songs generally sound old. I like that.

It was a wonderful visit. I hope to see him again soon.

His visit made me think about what a good song is.

Good songs are original in
Subject
Melody and
Structure

A good song has integrity.

Good songs are
Honest
Consistent
Easily grasped
Interesting - they make me want to listen again, preferably with lyrics in hand.
Subtly complex.
Personal but not sentimental.

Good songs have a feeling of permanence.

Good songs sound classic. They do not obviously sound current - except, possibly, in subject matter.

Lastly, great songs make me wish I had written them.

Heidi and I decided to take a walk to see the donkeys.

First a sampling of our neighbor's Concord grapes for energy.

Past the bow and arrow target range.

And this year's giant pumpkin.

Down their drive.

Past the railroad tracks and field.

Apple trees.

Honeysuckle.

Mr. Gray came along.

Pete too.

There's a girl.

In the barn.

A kiss.

Going back home.

Bye geese.

Denny's.

To Mill Pond. A nice walk.

Tonight at Studio Wood we were unsuccessful at adding either guitar or bass to He's Always Glad To See You. This is a song intended to appear on the Family Stones compilation.

Although it sounds sterile, I have been using the term additive to determine if what we are trying to do is musical in the sense that it makes the song more interesting to listen to. Additive.

This process of trying to find out if what you are doing -say introducing a new guitar part - adds anything to what you already have. It is often simply trial and error with the intent of not erroring.

We spent considerable time this evening (while sipping on hard cider and enjoying a nice cheese course)trying to add. The song did not desire the addition of anything, thank you.

The Fall Harvest was in full swing today on Mill Pond.

Here's a pile of basil from three of our four basil plants:

The pile first turned into this bowl:

Then into this bowl and a nearly full grocery bag:

Meanwhile, Heidi was making her famous tomatilla sauce, beginning with green onions:

The tomatillas and serrano peppers

Nicely cooked. Yum:

Add cilantro:

To make delicious salsa:

Meanwhile, to the basil, I added garlic, olive oil, parmisano cheese, and pine nuts to make a staple of our winter months: pesto. Twenty-five cups worth should do it.

From an early walk in the yard.

Cat stretching and Heidi's flowers:

Soon this view will be full of fall color:

Gardens:

Getting wood ready for winter:

The driveway view:

The end of our garden that really did not produce as well as in the past:

Cats waking:

Since I decided to pursue the idea of several music collections comprising an anthology, I thought I would call the first release I Haven't Lost My Way.

Naming an album ("album" being my preferable way of defining a collection of songs whether the media be vinyl, a plastic compact disc, or download) is one of the thousand decisions that are made when releasing music.

Of course, some people don't name their albums, or do not name it from a title of one of the songs on the album. But I like bringing a song title to the top; to allow it to encompass all of the songs on the album. I Haven't Lost My Way didn't do that. Somehow, Room Number Nine does. I have no further explanation. It just feels right.

It’s what's behind the door.

I've enlisted the help of guitarist and graphic/web artist Dan Methany. I didn’t feel I was getting anywhere with the CD package. I may have the concept, but I don’t have the eye. He sent me a draft of the package and I very much like it.

Since I’ve decided to change the song collection title to Room Number Nine, he ran with that. It’s got a good feel.

Studio Brown.

Chris made another apperance with his Stick. When I originally recorded Wintergreen Ohio at GBP Studios, we recorded Chris also. Over the last six months, since that recording and as the song has evloved, his exact Stick part wasn't working; now it does.

Donny's DW drumset that I bang on whenever there is a spare moment:

You really shouldn't record without Mr. T and the preacher man:

Shoes of Chris:

Studio light:

Donny. "There's a lot a good there."

Chris delivering: