A Reality in the Fiction episodeIf you've read the D-Strings trilogy of the Silver Strings series, you'll remember a lot of emphasis is on song writing. A lot of conversations stem around verses and song writing and each chapter begins with a snippet from one of their songs. In Rising Sun, the first in this series, Matt and Jules collaborate. In Half Moon, Jules stays in the biz writing for other bands, and it's here she branches out into a completely different style than when co-composing with Matt.
At some point, Jules is reflecting on how her song style has changed. She admits to stringing together words and meaningless phrases that sound good together and that "To her surprise, these meaningless, yet poetic songs [became future chart toppers.]"
The reality in the fiction is this. Musician's for years have been saying the same. Time and time again, they're asked to explain a song that truly has no meaning. John Lennon continually laughed at the misconceptions of and the attempts to decipher his lyrics. Here's one of the many times Kurt Cobain spoke about lyrics being just that--lyrics nothing else.
(2:30) I notice people expect a thematic angle to our music... they want to read into it... i was just writing pieces of poetry... pieces of poetry... garbage that would spew out of me... and then i find myself having to come up with explanations for it...
And that sums it up nicely!
Excerpt from Rising Sun, Half Moon, Rock Stars, Silver Strings D-String trilogy.“Can I ask you something?” Matt brought his hand from her hair to splay his fingers through hers.
“Which album is better?”
“That’s an impossible question…” She considered and reconsidered, wanting to give him a real answer, but she really couldn’t decide between the two. They were both just as great in different ways. “I love them both, just as much.”
“If you were going to be stranded on a desert isle, which one would you take?”
“A desert isle? Like with cactuses and scorpions and geckos?”
“Now, his hand went back to her hair, but it was to pull. “A deserted island, Gilligan. And it’s cacti.”
“You’re not a real professor you know…”
Toying with one of her ponytails, he raised his brows. “Oh really? So why did you work so hard for that ‘A’?” When she blew out an exasperated breath, irritated that he had bested her, as usual, in their repartee, he shot her a victorious grin before tugging on the ponytail. “You’re changing the subject.”
“Well…” she mused, “You mean, I know I’m going to be stranded? In advance enough to plan out my album collection?”
“Cari…” Matt warned, in that coated-with-the-sex-rumble which always came from deep within his throat. “You’re fixing to get it… and get it good…”
“It’s an impossible question… I mean it…”
Another loud sigh expelled through her lips, this time from frustration at the situation. How could he seriously expect her to choose between the two albums? But there he was, patiently waiting. She could feel his anticipation of her answer in the darkness.
“The first one, I love for the lyrics, the way the words flow. I guess if everything else disappeared but the words, the songs would still be phenomenal.” She reflected on the two albums and chose her words in careful honesty. “The second easily has the best guitar riffs I’ve ever heard—EVER. To be honest, I don’t understand the words to half of the songs. I’m not sure they’re real words. But every time I hear any song from that album, I want to grab the guitar and start ripping.”
“Oh c’mon already… that’s too hard, and you know it. I did what you asked…”
“Not exactly—but good enough, better maybe…”
“Thank you!” She breathed the words dramatic. “Why the quiz?”
“On Precious Jewels, every song is from something.”
“Something about you. I know you had to have figured that out.”
“Every song? I mean, I knew two. Three, really I guess.”
“Three?” Matt squeezed her tighter, his earlier tension gone. Knuckles brushed her neck, and her fingers were massaging on his scalp. “Three? Damn girl, this is going to be fun. You got homework to do.”
“Every song? And you called me a stalker. Can’t you just tell me? What they mean?”
“That’s no fun…”
“I could make it fun…”
“No doubt about that…” he growled, reading the look in her eyes.
His gaze changed, and his every movement stilled. “Can I ask you something else? Something about your songs?”
“Sure.” But in mistakenly thinking he was speaking of Julian songs, she was unprepared for the question.
“When you recorded ‘Rightfully Mine,’ were you… were you crying, cari?”
The room faded, and she was back in the studio, Marc and Candi having left her to record in private, the technician a silent entity behind glass. The feelings of that day assaulted her. Sitting alone in that room with the world beyond the glass partition had seemed symbolic. Possibly sitting, where only weeks ago, Matt had but hadn't cared to stay.
“I'm sorry, Jules.” His arms encircled her, tightening with emotion, and she realized she had nodded in answer to his question. “After almost every session, I drove to the beach or to my room at my old man’s house and cried my eyes out.”
“Can we not talk about this?” It hurt too much. It was the past, and they were in the present. She was done with hurting.
His lips brushed hers gently, again and again, until the kisses were possessive and demanding, until the pent up emotions hanging in the moment were lost in lovemaking.