I have been thinking about Roger Miller muchly as of late, especially after the drive I took with my brothers and Aerin this past July to visit our Pop in Idaho. In addition to all of the other great music we introduced each other to, Rik had a sweet supply of Mr. Miller on his iPod, and we all became purer beings through the listening.
This recording is one-taker of a sink-written song. The endless supply of leftover ketchup in Aerin's lunchbox turns my grin around while kitchen cleaning, and with ol' Roger in me head often as of late, this song came through. Sounds more Miller-like when I play it faster, but I am more prone to mistakes at a hepped up speed, and was more interested in a smooth recording than a hot-cat, revved-up hooter.
Hooked up my microtrack through my AKG and recorded this outside in me backyard on the Saturday past, in the mid-AM. Maybe sometime soon I will insert some instrumentals in to it, maybe not, but it would sound good with some.
Enjoy!
- Mark Otis
Lyrics:
How do you re-bottle un-et ketchup
and get it to going back down the neck set straight up?
Un-et ketchup is a waste you see
don't finish your ketchup
catch heck from me
In your lunchbox , going to school
you got foods so fine, to find a full man drooling
but yer afternoon return when you check it
everything's et, cept but most of the ketchup
How do you re-bottle un-et ketchup
and get it to going back down the neck set straight up?
Un-et ketchup is a waste you see
don't finish your ketchup
catch heck from me
If I saved 50 cents throughout the moon of a month
Collecting un-et ketchup left back in your lunch
I'd collar half a dollar, that'd be me:
a 50 cent miser; nary wiser I'd be
How do you re-bottle ketchup, ketchup
scoop in another cup just to get et up
and on a future table setting you will find it
full up of ketchup containers of every kind
How do you re-bottle un-et ketchup
and get it to going back down the neck set straight up?
Un-et ketchup is a waste you see
don't finish your ketchup
catch heck from me
ketchup's a fruit sauce taking it down to the truth
president decree telling us all “forsooth,
a tomato or tomata is a fruit to pick”
you can squeeze it and serve it on what you wanna serve it with
How do you re-bottle un-et ketchup
and get it to going back down the neck set straight up?
un-et ketchup is a waste you see
don't finish your ketchup
catch heck from me
The joy for some, and the secret in serving
is dedication divine to the clock hand's twirling
as the tongue, bell rung, starts to wet the teeth
but I anticipate the flow to be too slow for me
How do you re-bottle un-et ketchup
and get it to going back down the neck set straight up?
un-et ketchup is a waste you see
don't finish your ketchup
catch heck from me
finish your ketchup or you'll
catch heck from me
Music and Lyrics copyright 2009 Mark Allen Johnson
Monday, October 5, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Sparky Superhero (classroom collaboration)
I have been teaching songwriting in my son's third grade class this year, and presented below is our first group assignment. Written in concert with 20 third graders, My son's third grade teacher Bonnie Raines, and myself, we all feel it is a fine debut effort.
After offering up my services to teach this twice a week in the class, I was initially concerned how to get 20 kids to write a song together. My fears were dismissed when Bonnie put into action her great corralling technique:
After we discussed the many reasons why people wrote songs, the kids were asked to come up with suggestions for subject matter and song type. They were allowed to vote on their favorite, and came up with the idea of a silly song about a superhero kittycat named "Sparky". Sparky now needed something to define him as a hero, and so the idea-taking and vote-casting process took over once again.
To start, I played a simple chord progression for the kids, suggested a melody line, and sang the chorus.
The first verse (the intro of the bad guy) was worked up during our initial session together. The second verse (which has Sparky resolving the conflict) was completed in the following class, and the last two verses were written during the third class. It seems that once you get the ball rolling with a room of vibrant, imaginative, 8 and 9 years old thinkers, it can be hard to settle them into making a concrete storyline out of what was decided upon by vote. They just want to keep coming up with more and more ideas, which is awesome, but makes it difficult to distill a cohesive song. Bonnie was trying to steer them into thinking about why a superhero cat would be called "Sparky" in the first place, and a couple of students thought of some laser-eye prospects for Sparky, but not enough votes were cast for this idea. For the final verse, Bonnie came up with the great "hairball" line, trying to get some part of the song to reference that Sparky is a cat, and the choking chupacabra lines filled out simply from there, completing the song.
An exercise in showing the kids how easy and fun writing a song can be, this first experiment came out very well. We will work on having the children create the actual lines (and rhyming scheme) for future songs, working in small groups and on individual songs throughout the year.
I plan on recording the kids singing this one on Tuesday, and will post that version on my blog when ready!
Enjoy
- Mark Otis
Lyrics:
There's a robot underneath the Empire State Building
He eats grownups, small children, and parking meters
This is so naughty and a serious problem
Someone has to stop it. Who can do it?
Sparky - Superhero
Meow meow - Superhero
Sparky Superhero
Meow Meow - Meow Meow Meow Meow
Meow Meow Meow Meow
Meow
Sparky has a decoy parking meter
he climbs inside and the robot eats him
Sparky takes control and then defeats him
he saves the day – Hooray!
Sparky - Superhero
Meow meow - Superhero
Sparky Superhero
Meow Meow - Meow Meow Meow Meow
Meow Meow Meow Meow
Meow
Chupacabra is trying to ensnare
the whole city in a wig of human hair
He's stealing it from everyone, everywhere
What shall we do? Tell me who can help us?
Sparky - Superhero
Meow meow - Superhero
Sparky Superhero
Meow Meow
Meow Meow - Meow Meow
Meow Meow Meow Meow
Meow
Being a cat, Sparky coughs up a hairball
Chupacabra can't pass up on that at all
Hairball is so big, the chupacabra chokes
and that's all folks – Goodbye chupacabra, and say hello:
Sparky - Superhero
Meow meow - Superhero
Sparky Superhero
Meow Meow- Meow Meow Meow Meow
Meow Meow Meow Meow Meow
copyright 2009 Mark Allen Johnson
After offering up my services to teach this twice a week in the class, I was initially concerned how to get 20 kids to write a song together. My fears were dismissed when Bonnie put into action her great corralling technique:
After we discussed the many reasons why people wrote songs, the kids were asked to come up with suggestions for subject matter and song type. They were allowed to vote on their favorite, and came up with the idea of a silly song about a superhero kittycat named "Sparky". Sparky now needed something to define him as a hero, and so the idea-taking and vote-casting process took over once again.
To start, I played a simple chord progression for the kids, suggested a melody line, and sang the chorus.
The first verse (the intro of the bad guy) was worked up during our initial session together. The second verse (which has Sparky resolving the conflict) was completed in the following class, and the last two verses were written during the third class. It seems that once you get the ball rolling with a room of vibrant, imaginative, 8 and 9 years old thinkers, it can be hard to settle them into making a concrete storyline out of what was decided upon by vote. They just want to keep coming up with more and more ideas, which is awesome, but makes it difficult to distill a cohesive song. Bonnie was trying to steer them into thinking about why a superhero cat would be called "Sparky" in the first place, and a couple of students thought of some laser-eye prospects for Sparky, but not enough votes were cast for this idea. For the final verse, Bonnie came up with the great "hairball" line, trying to get some part of the song to reference that Sparky is a cat, and the choking chupacabra lines filled out simply from there, completing the song.
An exercise in showing the kids how easy and fun writing a song can be, this first experiment came out very well. We will work on having the children create the actual lines (and rhyming scheme) for future songs, working in small groups and on individual songs throughout the year.
I plan on recording the kids singing this one on Tuesday, and will post that version on my blog when ready!
Enjoy
- Mark Otis
Lyrics:
There's a robot underneath the Empire State Building
He eats grownups, small children, and parking meters
This is so naughty and a serious problem
Someone has to stop it. Who can do it?
Sparky - Superhero
Meow meow - Superhero
Sparky Superhero
Meow Meow - Meow Meow Meow Meow
Meow Meow Meow Meow
Meow
Sparky has a decoy parking meter
he climbs inside and the robot eats him
Sparky takes control and then defeats him
he saves the day – Hooray!
Sparky - Superhero
Meow meow - Superhero
Sparky Superhero
Meow Meow - Meow Meow Meow Meow
Meow Meow Meow Meow
Meow
Chupacabra is trying to ensnare
the whole city in a wig of human hair
He's stealing it from everyone, everywhere
What shall we do? Tell me who can help us?
Sparky - Superhero
Meow meow - Superhero
Sparky Superhero
Meow Meow
Meow Meow - Meow Meow
Meow Meow Meow Meow
Meow
Being a cat, Sparky coughs up a hairball
Chupacabra can't pass up on that at all
Hairball is so big, the chupacabra chokes
and that's all folks – Goodbye chupacabra, and say hello:
Sparky - Superhero
Meow meow - Superhero
Sparky Superhero
Meow Meow- Meow Meow Meow Meow
Meow Meow Meow Meow Meow
copyright 2009 Mark Allen Johnson
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Uke Musings Update!!
We have updates!! Crazy, crazy updates!!
More lyrics now on this site than have been seen ever before!!
Individual song links to your left!
Song lyrics and notes to your right!
More stuff, more stuff, more stuff!!
Check out this crazy list of sings that you can now sings along to:
AMBITION
BEAVER DAM
BIG BLUE RUBBER HANDS
CAUGHT IN THE SPOTLIGHT
EMPLOYEES AREA ONLY
GARAGE SALE
HABITAT
HEMINGWAY
MENUTIA MADNESS
PARKING LOT
RANTERTAINMENT RADIO
SOME GOT LUCK
SPLIT MY SKULL
TALKING 7 NIGHTS A WEEK TOILET TALK BLUES
THERE'S A MAN (ZOMBIE SONG)
UKE SONG (NOT A ZOMBIE SONG)
Much much more to follow soon!!
All of these songs are guaranteed to be listenable at low volumes, but are more accessible to larger audiences at higher volumes.
- Mark Otis
More lyrics now on this site than have been seen ever before!!
Individual song links to your left!
Song lyrics and notes to your right!
More stuff, more stuff, more stuff!!
Check out this crazy list of sings that you can now sings along to:
AMBITION
BEAVER DAM
BIG BLUE RUBBER HANDS
CAUGHT IN THE SPOTLIGHT
EMPLOYEES AREA ONLY
GARAGE SALE
HABITAT
HEMINGWAY
MENUTIA MADNESS
PARKING LOT
RANTERTAINMENT RADIO
SOME GOT LUCK
SPLIT MY SKULL
TALKING 7 NIGHTS A WEEK TOILET TALK BLUES
THERE'S A MAN (ZOMBIE SONG)
UKE SONG (NOT A ZOMBIE SONG)
Much much more to follow soon!!
All of these songs are guaranteed to be listenable at low volumes, but are more accessible to larger audiences at higher volumes.
- Mark Otis
Friday, August 21, 2009
Beaver Dam
This is a tune with age-old roots, and requires a lot less backstory than I have written here. So: hang on, if you will.
Originally only consisting of what is now the chorus, "Beaver Dam" was a taunting song I wrote when, and for when, my two brother's (Rik and Eel) and myself would go camping/fishing with our Pop, which would always require leaving Anchorage (thankfully) and, therefore, a road trip. A road trip meant (among other things) a bevy of music to listen to, some of which I can still bear to listen to, and some of which I cannot: The pre-disco Bee Gees (Mom gets credit for our appreciation of the disco-era Bee Gees), Gordon Lightfoot ("Gord's Gold", both volumes), Arlo Guthrie ("An Evening with"), Dickie Lee ("9,999,999 Tears To Go"), Ray Stevens ("The Streak", etc.), and, most notably: Jim Croce. I loved listening to Croce, and I feel such a strong connection to my father through that music (though we never really talk about it). I still listen to Jim Croce occasionally, though more and more often it just makes me sad. Being more than happily married and in love (conveniently, to one single person - wait, shouldn't that be that "to one married person"? I better ask my lovely and happy wife), I do not connect with the world of sorrow and longing in many of Croce's songs, as lovely as they are, and therefore I categorize his music as "Dad Music", and more of an historical, umm... record, if you will.
Any-hoo: we listened to a lot of Croce. And around our Father we were not allowed to cuss at all. So I would like to now submit into evidence our singing of the words "..baddest man in the whole DARN town" along to JC's "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown", as it took it's frequent turn in the eight-track playlist. I did not so much care for having to hold my tongue, but did want Dad to see me as purer than I knew I was, and remember singing "DARN" loud enough so that he could hear me NOT swear on purpose.
You see:
Our Mother was the much more liberal parent back then, and the fact that our parentals were divorced meant we spent every-other-weekend with our Pop, pulled into a slightly jarring environment of not having as much freedom as we normally enjoyed; ever on our toes, monitoring our own behavior for some reference or off-color remark which would signal to Dad the hipper, cooler, looser attitudes which prevailed behind his bi-weekend-ly back. We did push the boundaries when actually with him, sometimes leading to trouble, sometimes not. But we knew Mom was having a hard time keeping us to herself as much as possible - with Dad looking to get custody - and I, for one, never questioning Mom's motives at the time, only appreciated her attitudes towards being, well... cooler. I wanted to be with Dad more than we were allowed to, but being a kid, I wanted to be cooler more than anything, and that was one reason I loved living with Mom. I did not wish for the boat to be toppled in favor of a stricter homelife, so I walked around Dad on tip-toes, desiring his admiration in seeing me as a purer person, who was not affected by the more liberal environment of Mom's house. Did I actually think that he would love me more if I was not a cusser or fighter, or of the understanding of things of which I should not be having an understanding???
Well, yeah. And I think us three sons still, to a minor amount, do. I continue to catch myself questioning my choice of some of the rougher words around him.
Speaking of understanding: please be of the mode in which you would have an understanding of this: I loved Dad very much back then, as I do know, and looked up to him with great admiration, desiring a vast amount more attention and time with him than I ever received. It was not until several years later, and goaded by my Mother's ill-will towards him, that I developed a "dis-taste" for my father, which I feel robbed me of several years of being around him as I casually kept my distance. As I grew a little older, however, and started learning some of the deeper truths about humans, I remembered that I loved my Father deeply, and started spending more time with him. I regret now not always basing my actions from within that love.
But enough about me - or, at least, that part of me.
I do not recall the exact section of highway upon which this song sprang from my lips, though I am damn sure it was "North of Anchorage". If you've been to Alaska, you know the location of which I speak. That area is always sunny or overcast, giving you all of the visual cues required to accurately paint, in your mind's eye, the backdrop to this musical creation. Oh yeah, there were a lot of trees and mountains (real mountains, not California mountains) and valleys and lakes and rivers and long stretches of the same thing, interrupted here and there by something else completely, but really only slightly, different. It kinda bored me in a kid-friendly way back then.
Let me show what I can picture, in the foreground:
As Jim Croce was in constant rotation, I can imagine us recently listening to "Leroy Brown". I can hear us not listening to any more music, and whatever conversation there was has been vacuumed up by this particular stretch of the road. I see myself on the lookout for animal life. I can hear myself ask: "when we will we get there", and waiting to go pee at the next stop. I can see...well, well... I can see a beaver dam ahead!
We would sing "beaver dam, beaver dam, beaver dam dam, beaver dam, beaver dam, crow's nest" over and over and over (alternating the "crow's nest" lyric with the names of other animal's abodes), as a not-so subtle way of getting our "damns" in. Finally, Dad (whether tired of hearing the word "dam/damn", or merely weary from hearing our kid-chorus trio sing-songing the same thing over and over and over and over, I don't know) says:
"Alright, boys, that's enough!/."
(Editors note: out father's statement does not actually require an exclamation point, but needs more than a period, hence the joining of the two using the forward slash. He was emphatic, but did not yell. We knew to stop. For a while at least.)
Many, many, many moons later I decided to update this song, this first song I remember writing by myself. The additional lyrics - the verses - were built up over the better part of a year. The hard part was how to fit the new verses around the old chorus-taunt. Eventually it all worked out pretty well, methinks.
This recording made within the last year consists of two layers of me on b-uke, lead and rhythm, and one vocal track. Some effects added aft'wards - (maybe that should be "on the poopside" instead)?
Enjoy. If it gets to be too much, you know the magic words:
"Alright, boys, that's enough!/."
And now for the lyrics!
Rippling River or Crickling Creek
A certain sort of scenario which you seek
Nearby trees and your perfect teeth
Crosscut chewing, tongue in cheek
Fell 'em well slow the water flow
Fill the spills so water nary goes
Down
But backs upstream
That is how it am
When you build your beaver dam
Beaver dam
You've made you mind, so take you time building that floor of mud up
Stopping holes with sticks and stones so they stay shut up
And what's more you got a store:
Roots and tubers - food galore
Upon which you and you family sups
In your...
Beaver dam
The dome upon your home is identifiable to some
As a mound of sticks so round sticking out like a healthy, happy, hippy thumb
Water all around surrounds the door your enter and exit from
Looks so fun floating free; wishing I had one
You sell it well, you know just what to show
Gives me thrills, this back to basic way to go
Now
The fact is, for me, well I know I can
And I am gonna build me a beaver dam
- Mark Otis
Music and Lyrics Copyright 2009 Mark Allen Johnson
Originally only consisting of what is now the chorus, "Beaver Dam" was a taunting song I wrote when, and for when, my two brother's (Rik and Eel) and myself would go camping/fishing with our Pop, which would always require leaving Anchorage (thankfully) and, therefore, a road trip. A road trip meant (among other things) a bevy of music to listen to, some of which I can still bear to listen to, and some of which I cannot: The pre-disco Bee Gees (Mom gets credit for our appreciation of the disco-era Bee Gees), Gordon Lightfoot ("Gord's Gold", both volumes), Arlo Guthrie ("An Evening with"), Dickie Lee ("9,999,999 Tears To Go"), Ray Stevens ("The Streak", etc.), and, most notably: Jim Croce. I loved listening to Croce, and I feel such a strong connection to my father through that music (though we never really talk about it). I still listen to Jim Croce occasionally, though more and more often it just makes me sad. Being more than happily married and in love (conveniently, to one single person - wait, shouldn't that be that "to one married person"? I better ask my lovely and happy wife), I do not connect with the world of sorrow and longing in many of Croce's songs, as lovely as they are, and therefore I categorize his music as "Dad Music", and more of an historical, umm... record, if you will.
Any-hoo: we listened to a lot of Croce. And around our Father we were not allowed to cuss at all. So I would like to now submit into evidence our singing of the words "..baddest man in the whole DARN town" along to JC's "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown", as it took it's frequent turn in the eight-track playlist. I did not so much care for having to hold my tongue, but did want Dad to see me as purer than I knew I was, and remember singing "DARN" loud enough so that he could hear me NOT swear on purpose.
You see:
Our Mother was the much more liberal parent back then, and the fact that our parentals were divorced meant we spent every-other-weekend with our Pop, pulled into a slightly jarring environment of not having as much freedom as we normally enjoyed; ever on our toes, monitoring our own behavior for some reference or off-color remark which would signal to Dad the hipper, cooler, looser attitudes which prevailed behind his bi-weekend-ly back. We did push the boundaries when actually with him, sometimes leading to trouble, sometimes not. But we knew Mom was having a hard time keeping us to herself as much as possible - with Dad looking to get custody - and I, for one, never questioning Mom's motives at the time, only appreciated her attitudes towards being, well... cooler. I wanted to be with Dad more than we were allowed to, but being a kid, I wanted to be cooler more than anything, and that was one reason I loved living with Mom. I did not wish for the boat to be toppled in favor of a stricter homelife, so I walked around Dad on tip-toes, desiring his admiration in seeing me as a purer person, who was not affected by the more liberal environment of Mom's house. Did I actually think that he would love me more if I was not a cusser or fighter, or of the understanding of things of which I should not be having an understanding???
Well, yeah. And I think us three sons still, to a minor amount, do. I continue to catch myself questioning my choice of some of the rougher words around him.
Speaking of understanding: please be of the mode in which you would have an understanding of this: I loved Dad very much back then, as I do know, and looked up to him with great admiration, desiring a vast amount more attention and time with him than I ever received. It was not until several years later, and goaded by my Mother's ill-will towards him, that I developed a "dis-taste" for my father, which I feel robbed me of several years of being around him as I casually kept my distance. As I grew a little older, however, and started learning some of the deeper truths about humans, I remembered that I loved my Father deeply, and started spending more time with him. I regret now not always basing my actions from within that love.
But enough about me - or, at least, that part of me.
I do not recall the exact section of highway upon which this song sprang from my lips, though I am damn sure it was "North of Anchorage". If you've been to Alaska, you know the location of which I speak. That area is always sunny or overcast, giving you all of the visual cues required to accurately paint, in your mind's eye, the backdrop to this musical creation. Oh yeah, there were a lot of trees and mountains (real mountains, not California mountains) and valleys and lakes and rivers and long stretches of the same thing, interrupted here and there by something else completely, but really only slightly, different. It kinda bored me in a kid-friendly way back then.
Let me show what I can picture, in the foreground:
As Jim Croce was in constant rotation, I can imagine us recently listening to "Leroy Brown". I can hear us not listening to any more music, and whatever conversation there was has been vacuumed up by this particular stretch of the road. I see myself on the lookout for animal life. I can hear myself ask: "when we will we get there", and waiting to go pee at the next stop. I can see...well, well... I can see a beaver dam ahead!
We would sing "beaver dam, beaver dam, beaver dam dam, beaver dam, beaver dam, crow's nest" over and over and over (alternating the "crow's nest" lyric with the names of other animal's abodes), as a not-so subtle way of getting our "damns" in. Finally, Dad (whether tired of hearing the word "dam/damn", or merely weary from hearing our kid-chorus trio sing-songing the same thing over and over and over and over, I don't know) says:
"Alright, boys, that's enough!/."
(Editors note: out father's statement does not actually require an exclamation point, but needs more than a period, hence the joining of the two using the forward slash. He was emphatic, but did not yell. We knew to stop. For a while at least.)
Many, many, many moons later I decided to update this song, this first song I remember writing by myself. The additional lyrics - the verses - were built up over the better part of a year. The hard part was how to fit the new verses around the old chorus-taunt. Eventually it all worked out pretty well, methinks.
This recording made within the last year consists of two layers of me on b-uke, lead and rhythm, and one vocal track. Some effects added aft'wards - (maybe that should be "on the poopside" instead)?
Enjoy. If it gets to be too much, you know the magic words:
"Alright, boys, that's enough!/."
And now for the lyrics!
Rippling River or Crickling Creek
A certain sort of scenario which you seek
Nearby trees and your perfect teeth
Crosscut chewing, tongue in cheek
Fell 'em well slow the water flow
Fill the spills so water nary goes
Down
But backs upstream
That is how it am
When you build your beaver dam
Beaver dam
You've made you mind, so take you time building that floor of mud up
Stopping holes with sticks and stones so they stay shut up
And what's more you got a store:
Roots and tubers - food galore
Upon which you and you family sups
In your...
Beaver dam
The dome upon your home is identifiable to some
As a mound of sticks so round sticking out like a healthy, happy, hippy thumb
Water all around surrounds the door your enter and exit from
Looks so fun floating free; wishing I had one
You sell it well, you know just what to show
Gives me thrills, this back to basic way to go
Now
The fact is, for me, well I know I can
And I am gonna build me a beaver dam
- Mark Otis
Music and Lyrics Copyright 2009 Mark Allen Johnson
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