Cerebellum Blues

Did my brain injury make me a better songwriter?

I suppose I'll never fully know the answer to this question, but the facts are pretty clear: before a bit of skull poked its way into my cerebellum, I was not much of a songwriter. I thought about writing songs all the time. I composed riffs on my guitar, I filed away potential song titles, tapped out beats. But I never finished anything. Ever. And then, within months after my injury, the songs just started flowing, at least for me, which is to say one or two a month. Obviously, part of the answer has to do with time. Before my injury, I had a job that soaked up a good portion of my waking hours, since it was the kind of job that is hard to turn off. But is that all there is to this? I just have more time now? I dunno, I think there must be something else going on here, and I think it has to do with how closely I examine my own life. Before I fell, I didn't spend too much time thinking deeply about the choices I've made, the places I've been, the people I've known. Now, I think about these things constantly, and I wonder -- in vain, I'm sure -- did I do something to deserve my fate? Am I paying a price for a past misdeed? I doubt it, being Mr. Atheist and all, but regardless, as a result of all this soul searching, connections get made between events and emotions, between the past and the present, between the imagined and the real, between what was and what might be, and in these connections lie songs. And now I have time to make these connections and weave them into something, whereas before I neither had the time nor the insight.

But somehow, that answer seems incomplete, unsatisfying, too easy. And I wonder, has something physiological taken place, has some kind of re-wiring taken place in my brain that has given me a musical ability I didn't have before? Maybe. A friend gave me a book by Oliver Sacks called Musicophelia: Tales of Music and the Brain and after reading this book, I have no doubt that some people relate to music much differently after a blow to the head. Am I one of those people? Man, I really don't know. My sense of timing is as bad as ever, my pitch decent but hardly perfect, my dexterity still more clumsy than swift. No, I doubt I'm much changed at a cellular level, and yet, and yet, still the songs come, with no let up, whereas before I was dry, or nearly so. Perhaps, in the end, it's not any one of these things -- time, introspection, physiology -- but all of them, and others I've yet to think about. As I mused at the beginning of this post, I doubt I will ever know for sure what's really happened. All I can say is that I am glad that some good has come out what, in so many other ways, has been so bad.

Where do songs come from?

I am not religious. There. I said it. Nothing ambiguous, just a nice, short declarative sentence. As such, I'm on the lunatic fringe among artists when the subject of inspiration comes up. Most artists describe their moments of inspiration as something divine, literally. They'll talk about how their ideas come from outside themselves, from a higher power, from a spirit, from God, anything but their own brain. Me, I go with the brain. But is that really a better answer than the other possible sources?

It is for me, because here's how I think about it, for lyrics, at least:

Over the years you fill your brain up with experiences, and whenever you spend a little time thinking about your life and the lives of others, you mine through these experiences in oddly random ways -- you're daydreaming in essence -- and sometimes, not always, but sometimes, a few of these experiences will coalesce into a single idea, and that becomes the start of your song. For example, when I wrote Demons and Saints, I was thinking about how the number of things wrong with my life was a whole lot higher than the number of things right. As I was musing about this, a thought coalesced in my brain: "I've got too many demons and too few saints." Voila! I had my song idea. Writing it became a matter of work and craft, always easier to muster for me than real artistry.

All of this is not to say that I'm right and the religious/spiritual folks are wrong. Not at all. I'm just making a -- most likely lame -- attempt to "explain" where ideas come from for me, and why they might appear to be 'placed' into your consciousness from the ether, but in fact are not. They're already in there, in my opinion. You just need to examine your life, possibly obsessively, and be ready with pen and paper when an idea forms.

Changes to my goals. And to my blog.

When I first started this blog, it's reason for being was to chronicle my attempt to make a record following a traumatic brain injury. My plan was to create faux band and ultimately to put out a CD, and maybe even perform a few times. 

I still want to do all that.

But...

Over the past year, as I have written and recorded the songs that will make up the album, I have rediscovered my long buried love of songwriting. It's a love that I consciously pushed aside back in 1990 or thereabouts, when I quit the band I was in with my friend Toby Germano and embarked on a mission to become a writer. Not a novelist or something else equally noble, mind you, but an advertising writer. Why did I quit? Well, in the band, I felt I was the weakest player, performer and songwriter, and every rehearsal and performance brought me face-to-face with the simple fact that, in my opinion, I did not have what it takes to succeed in music. I was also nearing the age of 30, and I worried incessantly about not having a career or even a plan for one. So when the advertising idea hit, I felt I had to pursue it. Music seemed to me like a dead-end; I was like a wanna-be sprinter with short legs. I just didn't think it made any sense for me whatsoever to attempt something I had no reason to believe I could attempt. A bad attitude, to be sure, but that's what I thought -- and still do to a certain degree.

The advertising career went pretty well, but in 2006, I fell in the night and bloodied my cerebellum, landing me in the hospital for several days, at home for several months and on full-time disability after about a year. During my recovery, which is ongoing and frustratingly slow, I spent a lot of time on the couch just noodling on my guitar. Then one day, I finally popped a Tom Petty DVD from Toby into the DVD player and watched it start to finish. Afterwards, I staggered down the street to Peet's for a cup on coffee and on the way back, I had an idea for a song. It was just a phrase -- "I've got too many demons and too few saints" -- but once back home, I picked up my Steinberger and for the first time in ages, started to work on piece of music. Surprisingly, it came together fairly quickly -- thanks in no small part to a Petty riff I subconsciously lifted from a song on the video called "You're Jammin' Me" -- and my musical dream was reawakened.

My first plan, as I've noted, was to create a "band" and put out an album, which I will do, but now I have a longer term plan: I am going to try to become a professional -- meaning paid! -- songwriter. No, I am not going to try to write "My Heart Will Go On". Rather, I'm going to write the kinds of songs I like to listen to -- and play -- and hope that there are artists out there who want to buy them. My main source of income will remain commercial business writing (which I really enjoy), but over time, I hope to at least make a buck or two from my songs. I mean, how cool would it be to make a living writing music? Pretty cool, I think.

So, to bring this long post to a close, I've re-subtitled my blog, added a player and posted all my lyrics (many more to come!). I will continue to chronicle my recording activities, but now the end goal of all this is, well, there is no end goal! There will be milestones, to be sure -- records, gigs, Superbowl appearances -- but the end will be when I croak, which I trust will be a long time from now. Especially if Obama gets elected! 

Stalled.

When I set out to make an album last year, I thought I would be very near done by now. I'm not. Not even close. Why the delay? I'm not sure to be honest. Part of it is most assuredly my ever fragile health, thanks to my punctured cerebellum, but there's something else going on, something I've struggled with my whole life. Ever since I can remember, as I get nearer to a goal, I find ways to procrastinate. Some might call this fear of success, but trust me, that ain't it. I WANT to be successful at this, I really do. However, reality is hard to argue with, and the hard reality is that I have a long way to go before I can lay claim to my own album. To help myself, I'm going to write a brief status/next steps list (can you tell I lived in corporate America for awhile?) and do my utmost to stick to it.

1) Songs: mostly done, only need to re-record There Goes The Night, which is now called Love and Hate.

2) Production: way behind, ass behind, in fact. I got the drums and bass done quickly, but the layering up of vocals, guitars and other stuff is a major challenge, since I need to rely on others for these parts, especially the vocals. My plan is to put together a chart, which contains all the songs and check boxes for the parts I still need. Then I'm gonna just work through it. METHODICALLY.

3) Promotion: I finally have a player on this blog, plus I've posted songs to ReverbNation, FaceBook and Fuzz.com. I will probably add MySpace, but maybe not, since I HATE the look of MySpace pages. I've bought the URLs: jeffshattuck.com, cerebellumblues.com and myshirtiscool.com. I still need to meet with a lawyer about copyright and licensing. When I have more songs ready, I'm going to be a pain in the butt to any friend I know with connections! Oh, and I've joined ASCAP and started my own music publishing company.

4) Getting Obscenely Rich: well, no progress here whatsoever, but when I started this project, my hope was to create a faux band, and just try to sell my songs as performed by me and friends. Going forward, though, I want to try to sell my songs to other artists, since I'm in no condition to tour and not much of showman even when healthy. Stay tuned on this last bit, and as I learn more about services such as Taxi and others, I'll post my assessment of what they offer.

Okay, back to work.

Spicing up the blog! Introducing a music player -- FINALLY.

Kudos to the guys at ReverbNation. They make a widget I can actually figure out how to use -- no small feat -- and I am proud to be displaying it on my blog. See it over there on the right? Cool, no? 

At the moment, I have two songs loaded, but I will be adding more in the coming month or two.

Why is this widget such a big deal? Because I want to make this blog the true home of my music activities, and the lack of a way to play music on CB has forced me to post tunes elsewhere. Well, no more! From now on, I will post tunes here, and all attempts to drive traffic will be to this site, not some motley collection of soul-less places.

Enjoy! And tell your friends. 

Please?

Mesa/Boogie rocks: My visit with Mike Bendinelli.

Yesterday, I drove up to Mesa/Boogie to have my amp modded from a IIC to a IIC +. What a cool experience. Mesa/Boogie is the real deal, a US maker of kick-ass tube amps that still assembles just about everything by hand and cares deeply about its products and customers.

Mesa/Boogie is located on an unassuming street in a Petaluma warehouse district, and the Boogie buildings are low and simple, belying the magic kingdom within. I drove into the lot, parked, and simply walked into the reception area. No fancy security BS, no cushy leather sofas, no hipper-than-thou people. My kinda place. I told the receptionist I was there to see Mike Bendinelli, and she put a call through to notify him. I took a seat in the corner chair.

As I waited for Boogie tech guru and Employee Number One (for real, he was the first guy founder Randall Smith hired), I perused the Boogie catalog and was tempted, for the thousandth time, by the Lone Star Special. Mike's loud hello, though, saved me from my reverie, and he ushered me into his studio to have a look at my amp and allow me to try some C+ models he had on hand. Within seconds he proclaimed, "This is a IIB, not a C. I can do some stuff, but there's no way to make it a C+." I was bummed, but as Mike talked more about what the C+ has to offer vs. my amp my mood improved. According to Mike, the IIC+ is a gain monster made famous by Metallica. For a Stones fan like myself, my IIB was every bit ready to rock -- it just needed a cleaning and some reverb/effects loop mods. I said, "Go for it."

After we wrapped up, Mike gave me a tour of the factory, where EVERY Mesa/Boogie is put together by a small team. What a cool thing: in this age of outsourcing and off-shoring, Mesa/Boogie marches to the beat of its own drummer, proudly making amps in the good ol' US of A, and selling them to rock stars and wannabes like me, with out a spec of 'tude.

Boogie!

For those amp freaks out there, here's a link to a cool article on Boogie.

Back from Palm Springs.

Last week Catherine and I drove down to Palm Springs, stopping on the way and on the way back in Sideways Land, aka the Santa Maria Valley wine country. Since I'm not exactly employed these days thanks to my dislocated cerebellum, the idea of a vacation was a little odd to me. But for Catherine, who's slaving away for HP at McCann, it was a true moment of heaven; and for both of us, it was just plain nice to get away.

It case you're wondering what's up with the weird dog picture, here's the scoop: for whatever reason, the hotel we stayed at adorns its decks with these bizarre -- but cool -- dog statues. Who thinks of this stuff? I dunno. But I spent hours staring at our Deck Dog and working out a guitar solo for a new tune called "Yo Yo". And the creature never yowled once. Good dog.

But back to Palm Springs. We wined. We dined. We relaxed. And that's about it—all under sunny skies and a blanket of warmth that made us both dread our return to cold, cloudy, windy San Francisco, which, true to form, welcomed us home with a giant middle finger of fog, which was being shoved into the bay by an ocean "breeze". Seriously, SF's rude ways with wind and white stuff have us both contemplating leaving the area for something a bit warmer. No plans yet, but after enjoying al fresco dining in Palm Springs every night, and days of blue and light, it's TOUGH to answer the question of why we put up with SF's lousy weather.

Heading south to Palm Springs. Then north to Mesa/Boogie to have my old MKIIC modded to a MKIIC+.

'Round about this time tomorrow, I'll be heading down to Palm Springs for a vacation from unemployment, and my plan is to do nothing but lie in the sun, read and hang out with Catherine, away from insurance battles, wedding stress, and the throngs of screaming fans who are always outside my apartment. Can't wait.

On my return, I plan to drive up to Mesa/Boogie in Petaluma and get my old Boogie modified. As readers of this blog know, I have been on an amp quest of sorts, and I think I have finally come to my senses. The truth is, I have no immediate need for a new amp, I just want one, which is a very stupid reason to buy much of anything. So, instead of polluting the world with yet another electronic mess, I plan to invest in my old mess. For those familiar with Mesa/Boogie, you'll know that these amps were the original boutique amp, the origin of species, so to speak, for all of today's tweaky, class A, etc. amps. And my old Boogie is apparently something special indeed. According to Harmony Central and many other sites, the most coveted of coveted amps is a Mesa/Boogie MKIIC+. Well, mine is a MKIIC and for a few hundred bucks I can get it modded to be a C+, just by taking up to the factory. Which is exactly what I'm going to do. Once it's done, I should have an amp that's warmer and more articulated than my current version, but still able to be switched from 75 Watts to 15 Watts, depending on whether I'm playing arenas or clubs. How cool is that? I'm also going to invest in a 2X10 cabinet.

Back in a week!

Gear Reveiw: The Mesa Boogie Lonestar Special vs. the Dr. Z Maz 18.

Earlier today, I drove down to CAE Sound in Redwood City to drop off my Carr Mercury for a bit of work (I think it needs a new tube). Lucky for me, Gelb Music -- the best music store on the planet -- is also in Redwood City, so I stopped by to have a look at a Dr Z amp, which I knew from previous recon that Gelb carried. On arrival, I stated my wishes and was ushered into a room packed floor to ceiling with boutique bodaciousness. There were DR Zs, a BadCat and others, but the two amps that caught my eye were the Dr Z Maz 18, which I've listened to numerous times on Dr Z's web site, and a Mesa Boogie Lonestar Special, the amp I have been coveting -- until today.

I plugged into the Lonestar first, and after just a bit of fiddling, I got a nice bluesy tone that I figured no Dr Z could touch.

Wrong.

One strum on the Maz 18 and I was pretty sure I had a new favorite amp (my Carr Mercury excepted, of course). To be fair, the Maz 18 was a 2X10 config, whereas the Lonestar was a 1X12, but surely all the extra depth and punch on the Maz could not be attributed to speakers alone. So I tried the 1X12 Max 18, too, and it lo and behold it also displayed more punch and fullness than the Mesa, although it was no comparison to the 2X10 Maz.

In addition to the rounder, punchier sound, the Maz also had a smoother high end than the Lonestar, which to my ear was a bit buzzy, almost like a distortion box. True, the Boogie could sound really nice at very low volume levels, whereas the Maz needed to be turned up, but unless you're looking first and foremost for an amp that can go from a whisper to a roar, I would get the Maz. Before I do anything myself, I would like to try the Lonestar Special with a 4X10 config -- or even a 2X10 -- but I still think it would lose out the Maz, especially on stage, where the extra punch of the Maz would be pretty critical.

Is this my salvation?

For the millions -- billions even -- of readers out there who read my blog every day, you already know about my plight, but just to wallow in self pity for a moment, here is the CNN-ready recap.

SAN FRANCISCO : Two years ago, world renown rock guitarist Jeff Shattuck fell in his Pacific Heights mansion and suffered a subdural hematoma on his cerebellum. He has been dizzy ever since, and while he continues to give guitar lessons to Eddie Van Halen, Jimmy Page and Keith Richards, he has not been seen on stage since the accident.

Well, my days of seclusion may soon be over thanks to the so-odd-it's-cool looking device in the upper left photo (which I swiped from the NY Times). I learned about the doctor behind this contraption on a visit to St. Mary's hospital in SF, and while he passed away recently, his brainchild lives on. Now with the catchy name Brainport, it's undergoing clinical trials, and I am not beneath using my star power to get a slot. So far, I've written to the company charged with commercializing the Brainport twice, but for whatever reason, they don't seem to know who I am. Odd. I remain optimistic, though, that in time they will be sending a jet to whisk me to their secret lab and fix me up. Wish me luck!

Seriously, I want to try this thing.

To read all about the Brainport, click here.