Live from Devils Head Distillery in Englewood, Colorado
Featuring: Wendy Clark – Guitar & Vocals and Chris Coward – Bass & Vocals http://www.wendyclarkmusic.com
Video by Michael Kuhl 04-27-18
PRIME (Wendy Clark 2018)
How did you ever let yourself get so far?
When was the last time you bothered to notice at all?
It only takes one mistake to turn the inside right back out
Certainly it’s blinding me as I believed everything you were about
I’m in the prime of my life
Yeah, I’m in the prime of my life
Will you recall these were the best days of your life?
Will it have ever seemed so nice?
How did just forget the words to the song?
When was the last time the audience had to sing along
You only take 445 mistakes to let the outside right back in
Gradually you find yourself looking past the place you begin
I’m in the prime of my life
Yeah, I’m in the prime of my life
Will you recall these were the best days of your life? Will it ever have seemed so nice? Will you recall these were the best days that you had? Will it ever feel so bad?
How did you fall illogically away
Why the hell did you leave me so far away
It only takes a million times to find yourself again
Please help me find my peace of mind before I get to the end I get to the end I get to the end of the end of the end…
I design promotional materials and write content, SEO and SMO stuff, and other PR and site management. It’s as living.
I also do local music PR and have been successful with many local artists – and am always trying new tricks of the trade to promote and use my band as a means to experiment with, and enjoy the graphics and image side plus the video promotional techniques.
But I am perplexed with my own graphic design work when self-promoting. Here is an example of one of the digital flyers for my band’s next show (tomorrow). I am a also a photographer (mentored and thrown into two jobs which I had to learn how to overcome the anxiety of doing *whatever
it takes to get the shot*) and thus use my own photos and a variety of programs depending on what device I have at the time and place that I create one. This was made in Photoshop which I have been using as much as possible to learn what I didn’t have access to in Photoshop Elements. I like to create posters. That’s why I started a band in the first place, right?
Of course not.
So after posting this green image of our show tomorrow (above), I thought that this is an aesthetically displeasing work — the rules were broken and it is a poor representation of a music event — in so many ways… and wonder why people are digging it.
Wendy Clark Band
Better Days Album release poster
Will this grab the attention of someone and possible convert them into a attendee of the event? I mean, my flyers have been used in tshirt designs for shows for clients, and I was asked if this one will be for sale by a fan – so I have to ask – why do designers have crippling self-doubt and why should we expect ourselves to know if we have made an good or bad impression?
If only content was as ambiguous. I made a poster for the next show that is one of my favorites of the 100s. It’s good. I received compliments which is the band flyer maker’s reason to live. Will anyone go to the show if they see it? Ask about tshirts? Why is the struggle to promote ourselves visually so cathartic for some of us in bands?
After all, I *know* when I write a song — it’s good or it isn’t going to exist. I don’t question myself. That is why I still get to play my own music — I don’t have the skills or the rock star goddess beauty (well, that’s arguable) and height and boobs. But I know better than to question my compositions and I won’t wonder if I am good at what I write – because I am. Who would play their songs if they didn’t think they were awesome?
So many rhetorical non-questions and ambiguity.
Chris Daniels Flyer created in Photoshop
Wendy Clark Band at Gennaro’s NYE 2017 Poster
Then came the Beanstalkers…
Now that I have decided not to participate in the mischief which bounces beneath me and breathes down my back, the lucky day bursts its bountiful fountains of the purest, warmest light within and around me; my love of life and the depth of my own fragile yet enormous temple of true faith is surrounded in that song of the magnificence of being; the most transcendent revolution of self becomes real.
Now that I have decided to burn the barriers of self-conscious self-doubt and self-betrayal, I decide to run into the living room wall as fast as I can and with full knowledge of the eight feet I have to build momentum. And although the pain is quite a bit more intolerable than I would have expected, not only because I thought a small jaunt of machosim might just fix or trick my mischievious mind redirect the synapses to bigger and better ailments, my expectations are always higher than I could ever reach, and if there was a beanstalk and I caught sight of it, hell yes, I would be stacking phone books to get to those branches and know I was in for something new and cool, whether it broke my heart or set me on a path to heavenly starlight roller-rink, life is all about beanstalks, bruises, and broken branches.
Now that I have decided not to learn any lessons, I will sing you a song about it.
Now that you have decided not to give me any reasons, I will seek them forever.
Now that I have decided not to participate, I have missed the point, I have not given any reason, I have rolled the dice, played the game, and walked away.
Now tell me—you know the stories of the games, you know all the contenders – now are you going to be the dealer or are you going to be the player?
Now blow some bubbles in the wind and sigh happily in the sunny sunshiney super nothing of your immediate detachmentality…. why? Becuse you are no longer a contender.
“Deal me in.”
Today I learned that things are not as they seem and that goes for objects, people, places, ideas — basically all nouns — and perception can be impacted without having an epiphany, or a moment of emotional impact, or by getting your eyes gouged out when you were clearly seeing or adjusting to whatever phase of the day you were tackling.
I think we see day for night as we distinguish happy from sad and love from hate, but as time seems to take us as it’s travelling, we seem to have the insight we need to recognize the spaces we are surrounded by.
If this means that we are equipped to live a functional and focused existence and we are present while we ascertain the infinite amount of our pragmatic conscious considerations as the moments creep away from our condition, than the constant evolves into the isolation of a preoccupied reality which manipulates the velocity of our conceptions.
This is not a dog and pony show. This is not a vault of dependent illusions meant to specify our next reflex and will bend the fragment of what you recognize as your capacity to sustain a reasonable recognition of your space and will alter as the life you lead will lead you on the way to the next fragment.
Adjusting to the portrait that has already been painted is a process that eliminates a certain freedom you are accustomed to, and singing a song someone else wrote institutionalizes a habit, and we drag out the abrupt until the inspiration is a technique that convinces us to know a difference in our impression and an impression on the immeasurable subjective state of all of what we think is objective. Or the aspect of the reality that simply is impossible to confirm or deny.
Thank you for your decisions.
Please visit wendyclark.net
to listen to some music.
As much as I have to admit I have a tendency towards the unconventional methods to deal with uncomfortable events and actions in my life, I have turned into an attack binge writer. Be careful not to tell me what a limitation is. I hope Brian recovers from this shady way of covering up emotions with a series of words injected painfully until the victim is too confused to ask what happened. Apologies to the others who know who they are. But I’m not sorry. Don’t be a crybaby for Christ’s sake. Not here; start a blog or watch a different time bomb.
I’ll be on streaming youtube now while I fix websites and play some songs to get even with my lack of practice by showing how much no one cares.
Get off FaceBook. Go outside and steal some hubcaps. Streak down Broadway. Write or play music or build a bad reputation.
GET BEAT UP. Trust me – that is the way to learn how to unlearn how stupid you thought you were.
I can’t stop writing. This is a real issue. I’m going to WordPress. My phone is off and I don’t want to talk about it. I want to make sure nothing changes enough to succumb to boredom and retweets of Trump. I want to start something and then run.
Yes, I won’t know until I do the analytics so if you think you don’t care, you would have figured out how to tell me that and stop asking me to think positively and MAYBE you would get out of the way and do something intelligent.
I will not make apologies for my stupid mistakes again.