Clown Teeth happened at an interesting time for me. I was going through a period of some serious transition, having decided to leave the traditional employment world, which created a bit of uncertainty. I was also working through some personal shit, which was causing its own fair share of anxiety and if I’m being honest, depression.
I needed an outlet and since I’m steadfastly a right-brained individual, that outlet had to be a creative one or I was going to lose my mind. As Joe mentioned in his Part One piece, I approached him about starting a band. I wasn’t sure whether he’d go for it, mainly because we live 273 miles apart. But I also knew, like me, Joe is always creatively restless.
Given that Joe writes music constantly and typically has a handful or projects going, it didn’t take us that long to produce our first song. He sent a file of some music he had written, and I gave it a few listens. I wasn’t used to his style, and nothing he does is conventional, so it took me a while to figure out what I could add. And in the end, I admittedly decided I couldn’t add much.
Though I write constantly, songwriting (I found out) is far more complicated than just throwing words to music. Your chief responsibility as a lyricist — (at least I have found) — is to find the sweet spot in a tune to which you can create a melody. I was failing miserably at this first go-around. Again, Joe doesn’t write conventionally.
I had just published a book of poetry the year before and there was a line from one
poem in particular that kept coming to mind as I listened to Joe’s song. Simply adding that poem to the music though seemed a bit lazy. I grabbed the book and started flipping through the pages, and I noticed lines from two other poems that stuck out to me. If I weaved bits and pieces from all three poems, I could weave together something cool, I thought. So, that’s what I did. A spoken-word piece set to music in the vein of Patti Smith or Lou Reed. The end result was the song, ‘I Wig Out.’
I can’t listen to that song now. I kind of hate it, mainly because I believe the band and I have evolved far beyond that. But it gave us a start. And, it was really weird — and ‘really weird’ is Clown Teeth’s hallmark.
A year after starting Clown Teeth, we started a second band, Sin Lung, with a friend Ben on drums. As the guy who writes all the music, Joe is pretty hands-on. He is the leader of both bands, without question. I think Joe is brilliant. And even though he is younger, he kind of takes on the “older brother” role in our bands. But as hands-on as Joe is, he gives me total creative freedom when it comes to composing our bands’ lyrics. In fact, he never even asks me what the songs are about. I’m grateful for that. First, I think if he did, doing so would ultimately handcuff me if he objected to the subject matter. Second, I always believed people should take from a song whatever they want.
I have no problem however discussing themes explored in my lyrics. And often times, I am working shit out in my lyrics the same way you would work out your issues with a therapist. Our song, ‘Thank You Notes in Absentia (the Redux),’ is probably the angriest song I have ever written. But other songs, such as ‘Not Going Anywhere,’ are just mere creative word play that don’t mean anything. While songs such as ‘Jesus Lives in Buffalo’ and ‘Regular Boys Haircut’ — inspired initially by a photograph I saw of an aged Mike Watt, the legendary punk bassist — start off exploring a specific subject before jumping to another subject that might be completely unrelated but one in which I am equally interested.
What started as a musical project per my request to provide myself a badly needed distraction during a time of personal struggle has evolved into a legitimate and serious endeavor. That’s pretty cool.
Joe and I have worked together before outside the musical realm. His former publishing house Red Roach Press published my first book, and we used to collaborate on a 32-page quarterly zine called ‘Alternative Incite’ that aimed to push people to pursuit their creative desires. That’s something both Joe and I have always done — we’re creatively compulsive, with an emphasis on the “compulsive.” Unfortunately, we don’t have the strongest business acumen. That bumper sticker/T-shirt business never did see the light of day.
Trying to peg what Clown Teeth is has not been easy. I wouldn’t know how to categorize us, which is why we describe ourselves quite broadly — as a project exploring ‘spoken-word punk, storytelling funk, acoustic meanderings and experimental art rock.’
It’s not for everyone, but whatever it is, it’s fun. And as I occupy life’s final third, I’m thankful for Clown Teeth and the opportunity to make music with my brother — as weird and indescribable as that music might be.
(TO BE CONTINUED....)
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