Recycled Rock-n-Roll : Repurposing Your Old Song Ideas

 

When I started my latest main project (W4WVK, named after my great-grandfather's amateur radio callsign), I had to change the way I thought about not only performing but also songwriting. In a power-duo--a format of which I have never attempted until now--there is no mercy when it comes to how brutal a responsibility it can be, with no additional or superfluous band members to hide behind or lean on. You're entirely on your own, and you have to fill the audience's ears and play tighter than you've ever played. What some may perceive as a handicap or limitation, I see as a righteous challenge. You can't play chords the same way on the guitar, and in my particular case, you're having to generate a fairly authentic sounding bass guitar tone simultaneously to make it sound as much like a "full band" as possible. It's exciting, terrifying and so rewarding when you nail it. As someone who really appreciates a nice moving bassline, especially ones derivative of classic electric rhythm and blues and Motown, it's a little difficult for me to dumb it down basically to root notes and just doing a low octave of the guitar part, and definitely not as enjoyable. But thinking back, I'd actually done it before (insofar as being content with simplistic bass parts in songs). Sometimes when we develop more complex, "mature" or refined appreciation for something, we find ourselves overlooking or ignoring the beauty of simplicity, even when it is what fits the context best, or adequately enough. 

I had in fact already proven my mettle in this regard back in my punk band days those couple years at the end of and after high school, because the bassist with whom I worked most at the time in said punk band was barely competent on the instrument, and I found myself having to pick covers and write material that he was able to keep up with. Sometimes it was frustrating as hell, but regardless of the lack of proficiency on the bass that at times felt confining, those remain some of my favorite times of writing songs and performing...something about the blissful naivete made it more fun somehow. So using that mindset when composing new songs on my combination guitar/bass rig, I can play "thoaw kinds of parts" with my new setup every bit as precisely and reliably as he ever did, perhaps even better in some cases. Just like Mark Sandman from Morphine and his 2-string bass, or the fact that the band The Presidents of the United States of America only have 5 guitar strings total between the two guitarists on any given song, I didn't look at this as some kind of limitation so much as I saw it as an opportunity to really work on writing good, memorable, tight, solid songs that would stand tall despite the bare-bones approach and technical limitations.

Before we started rehearsing for the new band, I had maybe four or five songs nearly complete that I wrote specifically for this format in mind. My partner in W4WVK has known me for about 20 years (of which several years were spent playing together in different projects), and we gelled so well together that we mastered the new songs within two rehearsals, and we were soon in need of more material so we can put together either some sort of album or a full set for performance. I keep a veritable library of riff ideas on my old trusty MP3 recorder and on my phone, but while polishing parts and arrangements, I found myself banging around some older songs I had written for my "solo" project (that I never had the ego to officially launch), and I realized that several of the songs could easily be modified oh-so-slightly to fit this new band's direction. After doubling our repertoire of original material, as well as hashing out about three dozen covers (which now has grown to a list of over 100 songs) we could also pull off passably in the format, I surprised myself one day by playing another guitar riff from a song I had contributed to with another band (which shall go unnamed, because I frankly am mortified with that project in hindsight). Is that kosher, to take back my riff for a new, better execution? I believe so.

Rewind...

A little over a decade ago I was asked to participate in a musical collaboration with a former schoolmate. Aside from playing in the high school marching band, the only musical performance this person had done outside of the high school marching band was some karaoke when he was stationed in Japan years before, and he was convinced (like a couple other folks I've worked with who refer to themselves as "singers/vocalists") that gave him enough clout to front a band. He could not play any other instruments aside from trombone (arguably some keyboard too, but I never once saw or heard him do so), and did not write actual "music" at all. This particular collaborative effort would involve all of the invitees emailing or sharing musical ideas via Dropbox/Google-Drive, upon which another member would build on top of before passing along, and so on. Once all "members" had contributed, the ideas would be polished and mixed down. Some of the songs actually turned out okay, others were bordering on downright embarrassing, but it was, at least to me, more of an experimental thing and less an actual band, so I just went with it and didn't take it too seriously. It was a great way to express some different musical styles and use some of my "C-list" material that would've otherwise likely been forgotten. The "band", if you can call it that, was not performing live, and would not until many years later, but that's a story for a different day (as well as the price it cost me by association). Every so often I would donate a guitar riff I actually considered "A- or B-list", just maybe something I was unable to use at the time, we needed a song that would elevate an otherwise-unimpressive collection of material, or when I just wanted to impress everyone in the "band" with something more thought-out. Several times, I would come to regret this, because the person who contributed lyrics/vocals did not have any kind of range, or a particularly good ear for creating melodies, and I felt a lot of my ideas that could have really become something special essentially got severely de-elevated. Thankfully for some of these instrumental arrangements, there would be hope down the road.

By sheer accident, I started playing one of those ideas that I felt never got to live up to its full potential, and it occurred to me that if I modified or omitted the guitar solo section from the original composition, with some slight arrangement modifications, I could most certainly turn this into a viable vehicle for a new set of lyrics and a better vocal melody. It then became kind of a conundrum of sorts. Is it okay to steal one's own guitar riff from one's self? Particularly when we're talking about a song that I'd wager had been heard by less than a dozen people, all of whom probably wouldn't remember it now anyway, I felt it was perfectly justifiable. Especially when that entire project crashed and burned and I was betrayed by this person I'd known since we were children, which was infuriating considering not only me going outside MY comfort zone but also having lost other opportunities because the live performances suffered from a lack of vocal prowess. I lost future gigs, and found myself having to apologize, which I took on the chin until I was written-off and treated like a side-man when I was 80% of the creativity in the entire project. Anyhow, digressing. Back to the riff of the song that could've been better. Why should I allow this killer Foo-Fighters-inspired song idea that I was actually proud of to rot in the forgotten catalog of a now-defunct band no one cares about? Why shouldn't I want to make this song live up to its potential and become a hooky, passionate tune that will be appreciated not only for its original coolness, but twice as much for being pulled off in the 2-person format?

I equate it to what happened with the Stabbing Westward song "Ungod" and Filter's "Hey Man, Nice Shot", wherein the guitarist was in both bands, and borrowed his own riff for both songs. The way I see it is that he/she who wrote the riff, unless bound by formal publishing agreements otherwise, owns the riff, and may recycle or repurpose it as he/she sees fit. So that's exactly what I did. I made a couple of very minor alterations to the bridge, added some well-placed stops to allow for a simple in-between-chords guitar solo (replacing a more traditional solo that would normally occur over a continuous chord progression), and then applied my own lyrics and improved vocal melody. It was a 180-degree difference from its wasted original iteration, and I was downright proud to have given proper life to an instrumental arrangement that was denied its potential. This was more like it, and I feel the update also gave way to some significant instrumental improvements as well. Better dynamics, tighter parts, actual vocal melodies and more in-your-face. Another victory. 

At the time of this blog post, the former "partner" in the tombstoned project hasn't ever heard the recycled song (dubbed, unironically, "Reclaiming"), because W4WVK had some setbacks from when we first started really playing together a few years ago, and are just now getting around to recording this and many other songs. And since my other "bandmate" seemed to always have an excuse why he couldn't come support us when we played out, he wasn't present for the couple times we played the song live. So I have no clue how he'd respond once he heard it, although I CAN say that when I repurposed another riff for my "solo" recording project, I'm all but certain he was none-too-pleased, particularly when that song was also written about my disdain for the way I was treated in that former project, and was entitled "Parentheses"; a title which references an event where both bands were booked and my passive-aggressive ex-bandmate decided to put W4WVK's name in parentheses, indicating we were an afterthought.

But that's what happens when your on-and-off partner with the group that originally committed your idea to "tape" is less than impressed with the repurposing of your music. There will be feelings of being disenfranchised and experiencing a bruised ego at the prospect of having a refreshed, improved version render the original collaborative product irrelevant and obsolete. And you think to yourself, how honest should you really be about the rationale behind reusing the musical arrangement? Do you just come out and tell them the truth, that you never felt that your idea was realized in a way you were satisfied about, and that you were giving it the life it should have been given all along? Do you tactfully or diplomatically explain that it's no reflection on the collaboration, and claim it's just a reimagining of the riff as an experiment in and of itself, or are you obligated to be honest that indeed you saw this as a means of "fixing" it and righting a wrong of sorts? Or do you simply stand your ground about it being YOUR creation, with which you can do as you please? Do you brush off any potential fallout as a false sense of entitlement and dare the person who literally only (for example) writes lyrics to even hint that he/she has ANY ownership in YOUR composition?

With my situation, after a good bit of meditation, I decided that it was totally worth any kind of ire directed at me should it occur, and would not hesitate to cite a few instances where said individual had rehashed a lyric or two of his own, and would also note how cavalier he was about working with anyone and everyone he could in order to be seen and heard. Partly because I have not forgotten that I have never been formally credited for contributing all but a literal handful of songs to the project as far as instrumental composition was concerned (in their entirety), while his authorship of "lyrics" always seem to have gotten special mention on EVERYTHING. I would be guilt-free going forward, and would reclaim every single riff and song idea I felt needed updating. I would Lazarus Pit the absolute shit out of whichever of my compositions I choose, and would not cushion their release to protect someone's feelings when they showed me they didn't really care about mine. When a partnership ends, it often becomes a case of every man for himself. I will not lose any sleep worrying about whether or not my former partner approves of me using my compositions in a more fruitful manner. 

Repurposing one's own work is allowable. Art does not have to be contained in a finite existence, limited or its growth stunted once realized or recorded. Sometimes it is an ever-evolving entity all its own, and if it screams to be allowed a second chance to develop or refine itself, it's a crime not to let it take its natural course. In those cases especially where you feel your work was robbed of its potential but can be fully realized with a reboot, you owe it to yourself to capture that fire and make it happen. Don't let anyone try to convince you otherwise.