‘Dotty Ditties, Volume 6: A Whole-@$$ Record’ Individual Song Breakdowns ____________________________________________________________ Individual Song Breakdowns The previous song breakdowns apply. I’ll be using this space to elucidate the last six tracks. For the ‘Dotty Ditties, Volume 4: These Are New Songs’ EP breakdowns, click here. For the ‘Dotty Ditties, Volume 5: Here Are Some More New Songs’ EP breakdowns, click here. “Memories for Sale” (drum transcription, percussion overdub transcription) I’ve mentioned this in the past, but usually a Ditties track-sequence follows the order in which the songs were written. It’s just strangely worked out that way, for the most part. However, this EP is anomalous, in that only two of the tunes are sequenced congruently with when they were composed: “Kitty-Cat Claque” & “Congé.” That was a lot to explain a highly minimal detail, haha. Every so often, the idea of attempting to capture the spirit of a song—or a section of a song—will inform the genesis of one of my own. I wanted to write an R&B-ish tune with a heavy backbeat with lots of space; Aerosmith’s “Love in an Elevator” inspired this. The effect at the very beginning is a mix of the whole tune whizzing by at about 96x. The guitar parts are ’sample-programmed’—no way in hell I could’ve played ‘em. My pal and session-vocalist wizard Sinha Krammer guests on the back half of each chorus, tracking a pretty unusual arpeggiated chord. What makes it so is not the note choice, but rather the articulation/enunciation of each syllable and its relation; I had to contend with the same trouble in the first half. There’s a key change in the bridge with some pretty low vocals, and some crazy (for me) bass shredding towards the end of the second chorus. Special thanks to my perennial vocal ‘vetter’ Gabriel Riccio for feedback on all of these tunes, especially this one. Distilled down lyrically, this is another ‘evil capitalism’ number, with the story being a sci-fi-ish concept about a corporation that buys and sells portions of brains/consciousness (memories, beliefs, etc.). It pans around different vantage points. Lyrics: For sale is my own imagination for a low price today Call our hotline right away Cut my brain clean Partitioned up all the good stuff, new earnings Buy now, faster I'm your master, caveat emptor, uh-huh Publicize, lionize, hypnotize Don't trust me Advertise, patronize, realize Click here, try now for free Act now, save Just today Such a good score, dragoon the poor But wait there's more Iniquitous, delicious Fuck misconduct, buy my product Officious Beliefs are ersatz, put them on layaway Argosy has docked, how you'll flock Ideas are oftentimes a big crock Publicize, lionize, hypnotize You can always trust me Advertise, patronize, realize Click here, try now for free For sale is my own imagination for a low price today Fob our schlock to our flock, sans belief you shan't balk “Ode to the Jilted” (drum transcription) A doomed-relationship/unrequited-love song, but a poppy one with a fun, driving chorus. The repeat of the second chorus starts getting wild, with surprising chords that venture out of the scale, a quick sextuplet drum fill, and some high-ass screams. Not high ass screams. Here’s more superfluous information regarding a minimal detail: one of the plug-ins on the master channel helped to generate the texture/character at the end, as well as being inadvertently responsible for the sound coming out of only the right channel. My recording computer is ancient, and doesn’t always handle well the abundance of tracks and plug-ins that I typically use. The ‘correct’ way for the ending to have been processed through said plug-in was for both channels to function, but I had become accustomed to hearing it incorrectly. So, when bouncing, I started verifying that the plug-in would malfunction as such. Technology, ain’t it grand? Lyrics: Doo doo doo dooo... Catechized, paralyzed Is this what you want Loquacious, you're rapacious No matter what you flaunt My scrambled preamble No doubt you had your fun Morning's held on by a thread, fortune Am I your raft of hope Aslope with ease, happiness is a disease Maybe they like me, maybe they care Maybe it's reciprocal I wouldn't dare Maybe they like me, maybe they care Could this be reciprocal My head, the weight bears Benighted, shortsighted This is what you want Our lapses form an apsis No matter what you thought Running and spinning 'round Right-side up, upside down It's one confusing din Life will often cruelly swinge May your heart beat a trillion Resounds, the day dawns Fawns of vermilion Maybe they like me, maybe they care Maybe it's reciprocal I wouldn't dare Maybe they like me, maybe they care Could this be reciprocal My head, the weight bears Maybe they love you, maybe they dare This is predictable I just don't care Ignis fatuus, vespers we shared I want out, you want in Ode to the jilted “Kitty-Cat Claque” (drum transcription) I cannot recall the source of the musical inspiration; perhaps I was embracing the challenge of a selection of notes—with many semitones—that aren’t inherent in a set scale (A, B, D, D#, E, F, F#, G). The accent pattern in the A section is sustained when the drums straighten out. I wrote the lyrics shortly after yet another mass shooting. Ultimately, it’s a critique of our government’s inaction, but conflated with caring for a kitten. You didn’t misread that. The even-quirkier-than-usual title is to draw attention and perhaps further investigation into the subject matter. And to articulate a bit of my position, I’m not anti-2A. But I do think that the very first part of the clause, “A well-regulated militia,” is woefully disregarded. Lyrics: (megaphone rambling) If you're wondering why I'm here, so am I. I’m the disruptor, the interloper. A being so cute and fuzzy you can’t tear yourself away. The quaver of loneliness, a pool of sweat collected near the tailbone. I can represent peripeteia. From natal origin you coddle me, and many wish for my disappearance. Truculent, willful ignorance will prevail when stricter regulations do not. Fear this kittycat, so acrobatic Semi-automatic Pet me once, fire me twice Discharge Belly rub thrice, thrice, thrice, thrice... Misuse by sick owners put me out in the cold Kill off the stragglers with pulicide In extremis SHOOT “Living in an Ellipsis” (drums + percussion overdub chart) Bolstered by the positive experience of writing and recording “Megalopsychia,” I endeavored to write another ballad-y, mostly acoustic piece with a lot of harmonic content and shifts and a melodically winding, challenging vocal arrangement. The second chorus in particular has to contain some of the highest notes I’ve yet tracked, I’m still incredulous as to how I hit ‘em. I love how the outro turned out. This might be one of my finer moments. Lyrically, it’s all about finding your calling and persevering, even in the face of self-doubt, and giving the bird to The Man—whomever/whatever that means to you. The opening line was an afterthought, inadvertently nodding towards “Wishing Well,” from DD2. I nicked the chorus-hook line from a Henry Rollins book, can’t recall which one. Thanks, Hank! Lyrics: From the time that I was young I hadn't a clue as to why I was always saddened A change played out one day, it came Poems could not express the filament flamed Living in an ellipsis, dissembled armistice I don't know the right way to go Living in an ellipsis, dissembled armistice I'm a wraith, toiling for my faith Reveal yourself to me Dielectric design Inchoate, a prosaic shape Glaucous hazing on a corybantic state We're all dreamers, we've to pay the price Peeling away redundant cliches Living in an ellipsis, dissembled armistice I don't know the right way to go Living in an ellipsis, dissembled armistice I'm a wraith, toiling for my faith Shall I someday slow down not at your behest I'll still be your ambivalent thorn “Manqué” (drum transcription) This was the first song that I wrote for DD6, initiated on 16DEC22. Though I don’t really listen to ‘doom metal’ (unless you count Black Sabbath), I wanted to try my hand writing something plodding and heavy. I also wanted to combine this aesthetic with another: multi-layered polyrhythms. Within a measure of 8-4 at 35 BPM, the bass drum is playing two groupings of quarter-note septuplets with the pedal hat marking the downbeat of each new one, the floor tom is playing a whole-note triplet, and the ride cymbal is playing two groupings of 8th-note 11-tuplets, with the snare etching out a backbeat—thus also rendering this a giant metric modulation—every four hits. The bass is mostly locked with the kick, the mandolin with the floor tom, and the guitar’s chunking along big chords seemingly in its own zip code. Once the vocal enters (singing in 11-tuplets requires a custom click, hah!), the simultaneous entrance of the xylophone pulls the 11 feel a bit closer to the forefront, providing another supportive rhythm and auxiliary melodies. After a haunting bridge, the A section is reprised with a straightened rhythm section. The guitar chords are now in the same zip code, and there’s a soft bed of sound design that’s comprised of my own rambling, with reversed audio. The solo instrument is an extremely processed theremin. I did two takes and comped ‘em. Like “Frolicking in the Lava,” lyrics-wise, this is an entirely stream-of-consciousness effort. Lyrics: I don’t know, I don’t care You can win, you can have it, it’s all yours Everything I don’t know, I don’t care You can win, you can have it, take everything, it’s all yours Pour me forth Like the blood that courses through my wefting wen Like the thoughts that crystallize It’s all equalized Like my flesh I have shedded Tyros limned in the den “Congé” (drum transcription) “Living in an Ellipsis” was originally the last thing that I’d intended to write, initiated on 05JAN23. I had begun composing The Soundtrack of Nonexistence in February of the same year, and wrote “Congé” in March to act as a sort of single. As the record evolved, it felt more and more out-of-place. There were also, well, lyrics which were integral, and I was trying to avoid anything lyric-heavy, as I consider the closing lyrics of Delectable Machinery II—and thus the closing lyric of the entire second ‘mini-oeuvre’—to be the end of “Threnody,” which are also the opening lyrics of “Fantasist” from Projects III. This creates a bookend, just as the ending synth swell of Finite III is the beginning of Finite: Complete, the first mini-oeuvre. Of course, technically there are lyrics that follow “Threnody,” but I consider “Requiem for a Fantasist” a poem, as well as the sparse stuff on TSoN, which is even more like merely poetic wallpaper. I seem to recall consulting a musical key ‘mood chart’ to land on B major—a furious, impassioned key—to craft this, as I was navigating tumult and turmoil and sought to express it. NIN’s “The Perfect Drug” was an influence. I wrote the bizarre, interwoven dual-string melody that opens it in Guitar Pro, then went on a hunt through my Hard Drive of Sessions Past in order to grab every note that Sophia Uddin had played for me—from somewhere, at some point—and stitched it all together and processed it. There are a lot of programmed drums in this one. I further distinguished the pre-chorus samples by re-amping the kick and snare through a Roland Cube stuffed inside of a dryer, a method I also used for the guitar solo in “Everything’s Tangled (And Made to Be Broken).” The outro sees a key change along with a dynamic/vibe change; a respite from the chaos. Lyrics: more stuff about unrequited love and relationship failure. We get it, Trav. Lyrics: You want more, I want less Heretofore, was I the best Blunt trauma to the heart Why'd I start this interest Teratoid, my frame of mind is nothing You need me, but I don't need anything And you lash out in surprise And I can surmise You are so emptying Beseeching Lay siege to my purling Face each new question burning This impasse, shall it fall Hang up now, end it all (simultaneously) Stall and stall (You want more, I want less) Hang up now, end it all (Heretofore, was I the best) Occlude my (Blunt trauma to the heart) Own anew (Why'd I lose my interest) I feel perennially benumbed Contumely spills into lonely And you shun Teratoid, my frame of mind is ashamed You need me, but I don't need anything And you lash out in surprise And I can surmise You are so emptying You need me, but I don't need anything And you lash out in surprise And I will surmise You are so emptying You are so emptying You are so emptying You are so Let me go, let me go, let me go No black and white, we're in the gray Only inside can admissions be made

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