Kanye, Taylor, football, Oprah. Sports, US Men’s Open, VMA, virus.

According to Google, these are the top search topics on the web right now, on September 14, 2009. Of the top ten topics, four are sports-related, two are music-related, two are Oprah-related and two are “unrelated.”

These are the things America is searching for: sports, music, Oprah.

If I were to write a song today about a singing football player who appears on Oprah, would people search for it? Would I be giving America what it wants?

Today, if you want your music to be heard or seen, it’s gotta be on the Internet. If you can be Googled, you’ve got a chance.

I searched for Google hit statistics on “Paul McCartney.” As you might expect, hit results were astronomical. I was surprised to learn that Canadians searched for Paul more than Americans, followed by Mexicans and Argentineans. The Brits were somewhere behind Argentina. People are nuts for his lyrics, which they look for more often than info on his tours, which came in second.

I then entered Texas-bred band Bowling for Soup. I love Bowling for Soup! We cover one of their most popular songs, “1985.” It is just too perfect for our band of five women. I learned they are bigger in the U.K. than they are in their home country. What is it about hometown folks not being number one fans??

I then entered Merry and the Mood Swings. The message came up: “Not enough search volume to show graphs.” If this had been revealed at a cocktail party, my eyes would have gotten momentarily big and I would have flushed red. How embarrassing! Here we have a wonderful home website and a presence on myspace, Facebook and now ReverbNation. I know we are searched for because ReverbNation can show me examples of where we have appeared on the web, and Google sends Mary H. updates when we appear on the web.

So I’m experimenting. If I salt hot topic terms into my blog posts and the band websites, will they eventually come up on Google searches? If they do and people click through, will I write a hit song titled “Oprah’s Football Music?” Maybe an entire CD, “The Battle of Jon and Kate,” “Taylor’s Swift Kick to Kanye,” “Facebook Virus Blues,” etc.?

Will I?

Search me.

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I am unemployed.

A couple years ago that would have been a hard thing to admit. This year, not so much. There are too many people with faces just like mine: eyes wide, sweeping the perimeter, ready to pounce at the first sign of a good job.

I’ve attended the job search seminars. Signed up for unemployment benefits. Played music. Tweaked my résumé. Wrote a new song. Checked careerbuilder. Worked on the new song again. What if the chorus shifted from C to G? Updated LinkedIn. It’d sound better in G. Hey! We got the Tour de NeighborsGo gig! We can debut “Chickenheaded Thing” and “Father Time.” Email the band. Email the Tour promoter. Send publicity photos, update copy…oh, wait, look for a job.

This is a terrible and tantalizing position we Unemployed are in -- vacillating between finding a job (responsibility) and pursuing true passions (joy!). The obvious answer is to find a job that involves your passion. That is one of those sentences the Employed say to the Unemployed that is far easier to say than actually do.

In an attempt to rise above the hundreds of applications pouring in to HR offices, I’ve written letters directly to CEOs I’ve never met. These CEOs were carefully selected based on their personal love of music. One CEO actually offers free guitar lessons to every employee in his Fortune 500 company – probably to offset the soul-numbing day-to-day work they do in a highly controlled engineering industry. I thought my letter would stand out by its heartfelt, down-to-earth approach and its forthrightness, backed by several solid years of communications experience – who could resist?

Apparently, all of them. The lack of any kind of response said loudly, get back in the HR line.

I think the blessing and the curse of being unemployed is the sweetness of devoting time to music. It fuels the soul, makes the days burn brighter, makes life…fun again, like it was when we were kids. It’s as if a clear voice inside your head is saying, THIS is the way life is supposed to be lived. The thought of getting back into the yoke of regular employment causes the heart to slow a bit, the eyes to look sideways, the shoulders to drop. “Grow up,” says another voice. “You’ve got bills to pay. Come on now, get going.”

So I’m both joyous and pragmatic at this current state of unemployment. I know once I am employed again, creating and playing music will return to being a furtive thing, caught in the precious evening hours between dinner and bedtime, or on the weekends between errands.

But for now, as I navigate between pursuing passion and responsibility, music is a joyous thing.

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Hey the Mood Swings have just been invited to play the NeighborsGo "Tour de NeighborsGo" family bike & trike event at the Village Shops at Castle Hills, in Lewisville. Saturday, Sept. 12, trike event 9:30, "Big Bike" ride 10 a.m., Mood Swings 11-noon. Vendors, families, live music & fun -- hope to see you there. Free! Look for details in NeighborsGo around the first week of September.
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Previously, on Mood Swings:

The big eye of TV winked as we played at Opening Bell Southside. Friends filled the seats, buddy/soundman/musician Doug Potts crammed the mixer board onto a table in the middle of the room, and Dan and Ryan from Texas Country Reporter moved around without notice, except for the fact that everyone of course knew exactly where they were at all times and pretended they didn’t see them, which of course they did, clearly, with both eyes, because Dan and Ryan were holding large TV cameras, one of which could look your way at any moment. It was a marvelous example of the the magic of television: even after being around for 80 years, TV still thrills. People still get excited about the thought that they, through the magic of television, can be transported into millions of glowing boxes in people’s living rooms, where, for a few pinnacle moments, they will be the captivating center of attention, the fleeting electronic gestalt of countless strangers’ existences, with the side benefit of writing home to mom to say, hey, I was on TV last night, didja see me.

Gets ‘em every time.

And so this pixie-dust made for an animated crowd, and the ‘Swings fed on the buzz. It was such a boost to look out into the room at all those smiling faces, those dancing feet—it’s a wonderful way to play music, a happy thing indeed, and we cavorted through “Trailer Park Living,” “Reach Out,” “Match Not Made in Heaven” and a few covers, including “Dream On,” with cellphones waving in the air like so many handheld Tinkerbells.

At the end of the night, as Ryan and Dan were packing up their things and the ‘Swings continued to play, Mary H. picked Ryan to be that night’s “Metrosexual.” For those who’ve not yet heard it, “Metrosexual” is a song Mary H. wrote about the kind of hunky guy who dresses so well he could be a magazine model: “He’s a metro, metrosexual, he looks better than me… he’s a metro, metrosexual, oh what a man is he. . .” It’s a lot of fun for the audience, and usually fun for the pick of the night, unless the pick is terribly shy and mortified by five women singing about how gorgeous he is in front of a bunch of people, but Ryan had a trick up his sleeve – actually, a trick up both sleeves: at the end of the song he tore open his shirt and what was underneath but a Mood Swings T-shirt!!

It was a Superman kind of moment.

After that night’s shoot was done, I thought we were finished taping, but I was wrong. I’m telling you, when Texas Country Reporter does a story, they really go after it. Not only did they tape the rehearsal and the gig, they taped four more interviews with various Mood Swings at their places of work or home, AND came back to shoot even more footage at the Deep Ellum Arts Fest. Unbelieveable!

Ooh! Ooh! Remember the big fat hint I gave Bob Phillips at the rehearsal taping, about heyyy, wouldn’t it be great if the ‘Swings could play at the annual Bob Phillips Texas Country Reporter Festival in Waxahachie in October? Well guess who’s playing at the Bob Phillips Texas Country Reporter Festival in October! Shazam!! We’ll be there on Saturday, October 24!! Do you know they actually shut down downtown Waxahachie so that 50,000 people can converge for the Festival? It’s a full day of seeing everyone you’ve seen on the show that year, only in person and in festival style. I can’t wait! We'll post details on the website as soon as we get them: www.merryandthemoodswings.com.

Two of the Mood Swings (Mary H & Mary G) play on May 9 at a fundraiser for septecimia patient Delia King at Opening Bell Southside (see http://openingbellcoffee.com/calendar1 for details about the benefit or www.deliaking.org for more information about Delia King).

Then the ‘Swings open for Once in a Blue Moon at Poor David’s Pub on Saturday, May 30 – if you’ve been jonesing for a Hendrix/SR Vaughan-league guitar player (no joke), don’t miss Once in a Blue Moon – OMG. And bring your dancin’ shoes (and cellphones)!
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Got a call the other day from Dan Stricklin of the Texas Country Reporter TV show (on air all over Texas for 27 years – GREAT show) and they want to do a segment about the Mood Swings. Hey! Cool! I LOVE Texas Country Reporter! I’ve always had a fondness for feature stories, and these guys are really, really good at it. So hey!

Here is the first of three installments about what it’s like when Texas Country Reporter comes calling. Today, a list about taping at the house; next, a piece about shooting at the “faux gig” set up just for them and third…well, I haven’t figured that out yet; we’re not quite done taping. But in the meanwhile, let’s dish!:

1. Home from work, they’ll be here at 7:

• put dog in back bedroom, close door
• clean toilet, they might want to use the restroom
• vacuum living room – does the rug still smell funny from when the dog threw up?
• open windows
• what if they wander down the hall & peek in the kid’s bedrooms? Close doors.
• make black bean salad, set out on Texas-shaped cutting board
• go over set list at the kitchen table with the ‘Swings
• act nonchalant when the doorbell rings
• nab escaped dog and haul back to bedroom while another ‘Swing opens the door

2. The shoot at house is really fun, but we’re nervous at first. At first they stand out in the front yard and shoot through the front windows. I feel the neighbor-vibes creeping across the lawns: “What now?”

3. When they come inside the house, we’re running through “Busy Body.” Talk about a close-up: Dan’s camera lens is two inches from Mary H.’s face the whole time. If she turned her head she’d hit the lens with her nose. Mary’s good, though, she’s channeling her inner theater major.

4. Now Ryan (producer-camerman guy) is doing closeups of Lucy, our “shy” ‘Swing who usually pulls in like a turtle when TV is around. She seems to be weathering this pretty well though, and she looks rela---heyy there’s a smile! These guys are good. Yeah, Lucy jus’ hangin’ out….

5. Martha is smooth on the drums during her closeups, keeps her sticks cool; Diane absolutely smokes on the sax & flute. Atta girls. When the camera turns to me I bang my teeth into the microphone and hope for merciful editing.

6. Time for the interview. They have Mary H. sit on the ottoman, the rest of us on the edge of the couch, scrunched closer than we would ever sit in real life – ewww we’re TOUCHing…camera’s rolling, act like this is the way we sit together all the time.

7. Host Bob Phillips is a pro*, he warms us up with “where are you from” throwaway lines, and then we’re off and gabbing. I wonder what parts they’ll use? When asked what our original songs were about, we should have had sparkling answers ready instead of everyone just kinda sitting there for a few….long…seconds… trying to explain, um, what, in fact, we sing about.

8. All the cool answers come to me later, about ten o’clock, long after they’re gone.

9. Bob & crew tape “Sarah,” “Busy Body,” and “Instructional World.” Do they really like our music, or were they just being polite? What is this going to look like when it’s all cut together? I know we’re in excellent hands – ALL their work is absolutely top-notch. But what will it turn out to be for the ‘Swings??

10. I drop big, clattering hints for an invitation to play at the next Texas Country Reporter Festival in Waxahachie in October – MEGA gig, they shut down downtown Waxahachie for 50,000 people, LOADS of fun – I hope we get invited. How cool would that be?!

11. Pack up, do gear count, big “faux” gig tomorrow night at Opening Bell Southside where they’ll record while we perform in front of an audience. We’ve invited some friends & family to be the audience – and we are going to PARRRR-TAY! Well, as much as one can par-tay between 7-8 p.m. on a Wednesday night – we’ve all got to get up & go to work the next day.

12. Let dog out of bedroom, set the alarm for 5:30 a.m. Tomorrow’s gonna be a big day.

* I want his job. He has the PERFECT job: Figure out what interests you, then go do a story about it, and get paid for it. Years ago I did magazine-style stories for radio and absolutely loved it and have always daydreamed about returning to those roots somehow, someday. Maybe after I win the Lotto.


Next: Texas Country Reporter, Part Two

Band website: www.merryandthemoodswings.com
Hear the Mood Swings: www.myspace.com/merrythemoodswings

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Queen Elizabeth watched us from the hearth. Her electric blue and lime green eyes tracked us as we moved through our retreat at artist Sarah Green’s lake house. Elizabeth, one of Sarah’s gorgeous portraits, kept a quiet eye on us all weekend.

Here’s what she saw: four out of five Mood Swings going through their Saturday slowly, with no agenda and no plans: four musicians and an artist looking out the bay window at huge grey herons. Sitting on the floor playing cards, drinking wine, slouching on the couch. Bundling up in borrowed coats to go out and gaze up at the stars on an ink-black cold night.

Here’s what Elizabeth heard: Sarah’s soft-spoken, melodious British accent, telling us stories about an ungrateful Pavarotti and a friendly Van Cliburn; my own shriek as I captured, then lost, a yellow jacket as I tried to release it back outside; Martha’s gleeful stream of comebacks as we all played word games; Lucy talking with us from the kitchen as she prepared the best gourmet Mexican meal any of us ever had; and Mary H’s evenly paced instructions as she led us through an early morning yoga session.

Here’s what Elizabeth did not see or hear: traffic, airplanes, ambulances, kids, dogs, husbands, power mowers, leaf blowers, doorbells, televisions or cell phones.

We did hear a bit of music, but it wasn’t ours. We stepped away from creating music and just listened to other people’s music for awhile. It was a good break, time to exhale and catch our breath again.

Here’s what I learned during the weekend: Martha has a keenly observant side to her that I was not aware of before. Watch out if you ever play cards with her: She plays with a quiet, serene look on her face, but what she’s really doing is watching you and learning your patterns. Every ace, every spade, every choice you make she memorizes, and like the raptor in Jurassic Park she is on your trail. She will win, and you won’t realize your terrible fate until it is too late.

I already knew that Lucy is familiar with more styles of music than I even have names for, but I never knew she had a place in her collection for country-western/bluegrass; in particular, she has a thing for The Knitters. I questioned her about it, saying I never suspected she’d like “neer-da-deer” music (say it with a nasal twang, you’ll know what I mean). She explained the magic was all in the lyrics.

I learned that Mary Hestand gets cranky if she goes too long without food and that she will settle for Jack in the Box in a pinch. I also learned that she knows the words to more songs than anyone else I know, and that every Christmas she and her family love to break out the karaoke machine.

I also learned that an armadillo is one alien-looking creature, so bizarre that it’s cute, with its long nose and snuffly way of walking through the underbrush, it’s elliptical ears so tiny and sweet; I learned they have tufts of coarse hair peeking out from under their armor. I also learned the poor things are just about as deaf and blind as they could be; for 15 minutes I followed within four feet of one while it shuffled along looking for bugs; it got so close to me that I had to consider: when it shuffles onto my feet, should I move and let it know I am here, or just stand really still?

So the Mood Swings retreat was less about music than it was about refueling our souls and getting to know each other a little better. Usually when we get together it is to practice our music or to perform, and it goes a lot like this: get in the door, set up the gear, play music for a couple of hours, take a quick ten or fifteen minute break, play more music, pack up and rush out the door to the next thing: taking the kids to taekwondo, shopping for groceries, packing for a business trip, making dinner.

In the car on our way back to Dallas we did do a small bit of talking about our music and what we want to do for our next CD. The retreat provided what I call song starts: snippets and phrases that could grow into songs. The next few months will tell if any of these phrases make it into a new Mood Swing song:

Hecho en Taiwan
Olive Dreams
Catch & Release
Lifespan
All Words S, D & P
Tijuana Breakdown
The Outcast of White Lake Hills
Your Narrow Heaven

Stay tuned…

The Mood Swings play the 41st annual YMCA Turkey Trot in downtown Dallas on Thursday morning, Nov. 27, 9-11 a.m. along the race route, near the corner of Harwood and Elm. They say it’s one of the most fun (“funnest”) gigs they do all year: 40,000 people, all in great moods, run past and wave and have a great time. Rock on!
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After I wore a black and white jacket to my first gig a co-worker fussed at me for wearing the same thing to the office earlier that day.

It was true: I had no “rock” wardrobe. I’m not rich enough to buy new duds. I am no longer svelte, I can’t wear low-cut pants (“muffin tops”), my feet hurt in stilettos and jewelry just gets in the way.

And the look that guys use is out, too. I just don’t look fetching in grungy T-shirts and Keds. And skulls and crossbones are the stuff of angry young men, or at least young men who want to appear dangerously cool while they’re playing guitar. Guys even wear their guitars differently -- low-slung crotch covers designed to look like what they’re really playing is something they’re not supposed to play with in public. For me, I need my guitar up where I can reach it, with my hair out of my eyes and my glasses on my face.

And please, don’t ask me to do the emaciated heroin look -- the best I can do is a frappucino twitch.

So. Without a fat budget, and desperately needing to look like I didn’t just come from the office, my bandmates urged me to hit the local thrift stores. Lead singer Mary Hestand is especially good at finding the perfect stage clothes -- she knows every inch of the Salvation Army store over on Inwood Road. Mary Hestand, she of the plastic forks and spoons in her hair -- I bow to the master.

Today I’m the proud owner of a tacky maroon velvet shirt, a pair of bubblegum pink shoes, a Sgt.-Pepper-inspired black three-quarters’ length jacket with gold brocade, and a bitchin’ pair of blue suede spike-heel boots that I wear only when I can sit down. My stage wardrobe teeters between “clown” and “classic,” but mostly I have a collection of stage clothes that are comfortable -- and not to be worn at the office.

NEXT GIG: Saturday, Aug. 30, at the Tipperary Inn, with our friends Heimlich & the Maneuvers. Great food, drink, and fabulously dressed-out music.
Band website: www.merryandthemoodswings.com
Hear the Mood Swings: www.myspace.com/merrythemoodswings



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(Fifth in a five-part series. Previously the author described the origins of the band, its growing pains, and a personal breakthrough in the art of songwriting.)

Songs started flowing out like a faucet with a broken handle. Ever since the music pilgrimage to my brother’s in Danville, Illinois, when he helped nudge me closer to being able to write a song -- any song -- a pent-up dam has given way, and songs of every kind are swimming to the top. Songs about matches not made in heaven (“...more like made in China”). Songs about Witch Joanie (“She got her twitchin’ eyeball / on my bewitchin’ man...”). Songs about handsome men, clueless women, instructions, low slow voices, billionaire oil tycoons, PR lackeys, and how sixteen lasts forever have all bobbed to the surface.

The Mood Swings has three years under its belt now and Melody was right – in our third year we’re gelling. We’ve played the big festivals (Turkey Trot, State Fair Women’s Museum Stage, Deep Ellum Arts Fest); private parties (thanks Sandra, and Wade, and you, too, George); and clubs (Opening Bell, Tipperary Inn, more). We even released our first CD, “Attack of the Mood Swings;” have issued two band t-shirts (“Is it the caffeine...or the Mood Swings?” and “Laundry...or Rock n’ Roll?”); have been covered by local TV and print; and, at this writing, are recording new songs for our second CD for release in 2009.

Do we want fame? Well certainly it would be a lovely thing -- but we are all realists, realists with day jobs, mortgages, and family members to support. Aside from rock n’ roll, life moves along just like everyone else’s, with all the bumps, hits, and jackpots. Between the band members over the past three years, we’ve had one husband with a heart attack, another with a mysterious nerve condition, one mom, one brother-in-law and one sister-in-law pass away. We’ve had one who was mugged at gunpoint, another who nearly broke her neck in a swimming accident, and one who struggled to find a new job. We’ve had three high school graduations, a couple of scholarships, a child win the lead in a school play and two kids who made cheerleader. In other words, life rolls on whether we’re rockin’ or not. Playing in the band just brings out more of the bliss in life.

Here's the take-home point: To anyone reading this who has ever wanted to “always _____ (fill in the blank),” do it now. Start now! Go ahead and tell yourself you don’t have to hit a homerun the first time out. Give it, say, three years to gel. Take that first step and keep going. You won’t be sorry.

And to those holding unissued invitations -- you may be the key that makes all the difference in someone else’s life. Invite someone along the next chance you get.

And remember what a wise man once said: Do it to have fun.

***
Check back soon for more Mood Swings blogs. Next up: “What to Wear, What to Wear…,” a short perspective on how “gig clothes” creep into the wardrobe.

Merry and the Mood Swings preview their latest original tunes at Lakewood’s Tipperary Inn on Saturday night, August 30 (double-billing with Heimlich & the Maneuvers). For more information, log on to www.merryandthemoodswings.com. To hear samples of their songs from their first CD, log on to www.myspace.com/merrythemoodswings.


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Memoirs of Nobody Famous
A Five-Part Series about Being in an All-Women Rock Band

Copyright 2008 Mary Guthrie

Part One: Stumbling into Bliss

Never underestimate the power of an invitation.

What started as a neighborly dinner at Diane Harris’ house ended up with an invitation that changed my life.

We were in her kitchen waiting for pasta to boil. Our kids played in the rec room; hubbies hovered over the grill outside. A small acoustic guitar in the corner caught my eye, so I began strumming and softly singing while the pasta burbled in the pot. Diane’s eyebrows shot up.

“Wait --you play?” she said. “I didn’t know you played!” Diane had recently invited me to sing with her and neighbor Doug Potts at Lake Highlands’ Highlands Cafe, where they played flute and keyboard while I crooned to oldies like “My Funny Valentine.” I never thought to mention that I also played guitar, had played since I was 12. Diane had played in bands for more than 20 years.

She inched closer. “So, what do you know?”

“This and that,” I said, and showed her a few chords from a handful of dusty songs from the 1970s.

She inched even closer. “You have got to come and try out for our band,” she said. “We just lost our rhythm guitar player.”

It was a frozen-to-the-spot moment. Play with her band? Are you kidding? That’s like asking me if I’d like to have a million dollars. “I’d love to!” I said, “but...I don’t have an electric guitar…”

“No problem. We’ll fix you up with a loaner from my friend Sandra. Practice is next Saturday, just come on and play and you’ll fit right in. It’ll be fun!”

Just. Like. That.

I floated through dinner that night. A shot to play with an actual rock band! It’s only the one secret wish I’d had for, oh, 30 years. All my playing and singing to date had been church-related or confined to the bathroom. (Bathroom acoustics, by the way, are fantastic. The tiles makes the sound ring out, and it keeps the kids happy while they’re in the tub.) But playing in a band was a far cry from playing in the john. Over the next few days I tried to not get my hopes up -- after all, they were probably going to try out dozens of people.

Diane showed me the chords to a couple of the band’s songs and I practiced like a maniac. Then tryout day finally came. It was time to relax and let the music flow. Playing those couple of songs with the band was sheer bliss -- drums pumping up the beat, bass filling the room, Diane’s sax wailing away, the lead singer attacking the notes like a pro skier on moguls -- and I was part of it! This was heavenly, and I didn’t want it to end.  It was like I’d been inside one store at the mall all my life and had suddenly stepped out into the hallway: Shazam! There’s so much more…

Diane was enthusiastic, the other band members quietly so; the bandleader...reserved. She gently suggested I might be a good stand-in, but let’s schedule a lunch and talk things over.

The lunch never came -- that band imploded a week later, buckling under the pressure of too many control issues. Diane immediately called and said that she and I should start our own band. A second incredible invitation! I jumped on it and we began practicing, tentatively at first, noodling around on classics such as the Eagles’ “Best of My Love.” (Believe me, Eagles guitarwork is harder than it sounds.) For the next few weeks we’d get together and play music and sing in our living rooms. Then, she got a call from Mary Hestand, the lead singer from the imploded band, who, along with bass player Lucy Galey, wanted to join forces. That next Saturday we set up shop in my living room and things started to click. All we needed was a drummer, and we’d be on our way. The only problem was we wanted a woman, and female drummers are as common as cats with feathers.

Nevertheless, what started out as a doubtful search quickly became a lucky find. A local drum teacher happened to have one student in his tutelage that fit the bill: Martha Germann, who started taking lessons only two months earlier. We pounced on her, and the band was complete: Merry and the Mood Swings was born.

We worked on mostly original songs (songs we make up on our own) and a smattering of covers (songs by other bands that people are familiar with). The only hiccup was that Mary Hestand landed us a gig before we were ready to perform -- a big gig. Local entertainer Jerry Haynes was having a big birthday bash at the Granada Theater in two months, and we were to open for the Grammy award-winning Brave Combo.

Our fledgling band with its beginner drummer and green rhythm guitarist had a lot of work to do.


Next: The Mood Swings Hit the Stage:
First the Granada, then New York City

Band website: www.merryandthemoodswings.com

Hear the Mood Swings: www.myspace.com/merrythemoodswings

 

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The airport security guard eyed my guitar case. “You with the Temptations?” he said. “They’re on this flight, you know.” Wink-wink. Yeah, right, buddy. How can someone jerk my chain so early in the day? It's only 6 a.m.

I had raced from the remote parking at DFW Airport to catch my 6:30 a.m. flight to Indianapolis. I was on my first music pilgrimage, a trip to see my brother Jack, who would take me to the next level in my quest to learn how to write a song and play a better guitar. Just as I raced up to the attendant at the American Eagle ticket counter, she eyed me and walked away. “You’re too late,” she said dispassionately. “You’ll have to take the next flight.”

“What? The plane is still here!” I protested. As she walked away she let me know my wait would be five hours. “But the plane is still here!” I insisted. No matter, she said. I was to wait in the frickin’ terminal for the entire morning.

I walked slowly to the gate, shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun exploding off the silver metal of the jet, which had yet to pull away. Twenty minutes later the same attendant walked by with an 8 x 10 glossy photo in her hand of the Temptations, all of whom had given her their autographs -- all of who had just boarded the very plane that she had denied me, and which was just now pulling away from the terminal.

What kismet got knocked off-kilter by missing that flight with the Temptations?!!? What if I had had a chance to sit next to one of them -- what better way could there have been to start my music pilgrimage? I was robbed. I settled into my dismal fortune and pulled out my guitar. Soon a lovely chord progression came to me, and for the next four hours I teased out a new song. I had the chords and the melody...but the elusive words, as usual, did not surface.

Once at Jack’s, the pilgrimage continued to limp along. He was unexpectedly placed on call with his job as an IT specialist with the Veterans Administration system, which meant that he spent nearly the entire weekend fielding calls from dudes and damsels in techno-distress from VA hospitals all over the country. His music instruction was fleeting, but he did give me a “Songwriting for Dummies” book which I practically inhaled.

Late that Saturday afternoon I woke up from a nap with a brand-new tune in my head with the words “biddy barlor” running through my mind. Biddy barlor? What the heck is that? It made no sense. But the words and rhythm and melody wouldn’t let go, and I ran the syllables over and over in my mouth like tasting peas and carrots in a soup. Soon more syllables came, and before I knew it, I was running my fingers across the fretboard to this new, bluesy-funky melody. “Biddy barlor” soon morphed in to “Busy body,” and in short order the words emerged: “I’ll be your busybody, won’t you come and dance with me? No need to talk about it, get up baby dance with me...”

I’d done it! I’d finally written words to a song! I raced downstairs to tell my brother the good news. He took me down to his basement home studio, where he recorded the results of the weekend-- the slow, sweeping Song-Without-Words that came to me in the airport, and a prototype version “Busy Body.” I couldn’t wait to get back to Dallas and share these new fruits with the other members of the band.

Next: Now We’re Cookin’
Band website: www.merryandthemoodswings.com
Hear the Mood Swings: www.myspace.com/merrythemoodswings

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