Actually three, but
why spill all the beans in the italicized preamble?
Today’s Subject:
Why people don’t do things… for people who do too many things and are wondering
how other people do less. And for the
randomly curious with time on their hands.
The modern Renaissance Man…
Wait. Before that…
There is a category of people who don’t do things because of
their proven inability to do them.
That’s me and drawing. I wouldn’t
mind being able to draw – my example was
specifically not “That’s me and skiing
down mountains” which I have no interest in doing whatsoever – “Sign my cast”?
No, thank you.
Even today, when I draw a face it’s, like, the same face I
drew when I was seven. So forget
it. I shall leave that fertile terrain
to actual seven year-olds, as they leave to me
the deepening grooves around my mouth and my extended visits to urinals..DJ-Major League
baseball announcer-screenwriter writer and director, did I leave anything
out?... oh, yeah, blogger extraordinaire Ken Levine is also – as if all those
weren’t enough – highly adept at creating The
New Yorker-style cartoons.
Ken’s auditioning submissions earned active encouragement
from the magazines’ cartoon editor.
(Who, in case, you were wondering is not himself a cartoon. The words “cartoon editor” sounding, perhaps
only to sticklers, somewhat ambiguous.
“I pick the cartoons and I also am a cartoon. For who better
to make such selections?”
No. He is an actual
person.
Anyway…
Although Ken was offered the opportunity to be a regular
contributor if he demonstrated through further regular submissions that he had
the capacity to regularly contribute, Ken opted instead for regularly
contributing to M*A*S*H, and, lacking
the available time to do both, that was effectively that for his career as a
cartoonist.
So there’s that. You
can unquestionably do it, but decide to do something else instead.
Then there is the third category of this investigation,
wherein I fall in relation to
songwriting.
I can do it. And actually
creditably skillfully. But in my entire
life,
I have only written five songs.
Making songwriting an unlikely choice as a moneymaking
alternative. Unless one of those songs
is, like, “White Christmas”, where the annual royalties roll in right after
Thanksgiving. You can do pretty well
just writing, “Abba-dabba-dabba, said the monkey to the chimp.” Unfortunately, somebody not me thought that up and the residuals went
elsewhere.
(It seems so easy, doesn’t it? “Abba-dabba Honeymoon”? The thing virtually writes itself.)
My first song, “I Hate Max”, was about a TV repairman who
made my broken TV work even worse. That
one was never commercially released.
I wrote a beautiful lullaby that I used to sing to Rachel when
she was little and Rachel now sings to Milo and Jack. So that’s pretty good – a trans-generational
in-house perennial. Sadly, it lacked a
recognized life outside of the family.
Jumping ahead, I wrote the theme song to my first TV series Best of the West. Words and
lyrics. Which seems natural to me. (Says the man who has written five songs in
his life.) The music is metered to the
rhythmic necessities of the lyrics, the words dictating the accompanying melody. Is my experience. (Professional songwriters may differ.)
During production, I was approached by a studio PR
specialist who asked me if I would be interested – if he could make it happen
and he believed he might be able to – in Willie Nelson composing the Best of the West theme song. I did not think for a second. I instantaneously said “No.”
PR bonanza be damned.
Nobody touches
MY THEME SONG!!!
The TV theme songs I write just come to me – I have a show,
and the theme song suddenly materializes in my head. If they had instructed me to write a Best
of the West theme song, I would have never been able to do it. But voluntarily? Whoop –
there it is.
It happened again on my next show, Family Man – the music and lyrics just popped into my head. I was encouraged by a family member who shall
remain nameless, however, to let the professionals write the music. So I did, including only my lyrics.
Hence, the “I Wrote One-And-A-Half Theme Songs” of the
blogatorial title.
When my third aired series, Major Dad, came along, though an instrumental only this time theme song flew into my head, I was encouraged once
again to defer the professionals. (One
Man’s Opinion: My never heard
version was better.)
So there you have it:
Three categories of why people don’t do things:
– Because they can’t.
– Because they can, but choose to do something else instead.
– Because they can but not frequently enough to be considered "actually doing it."
Over the years, I also composed a five-note “network
identifier” on the (now Senator) Al Franken show Lateline and the first verse of a song for the short-lived Kristin
Chenoweth show Kristin. But since then, nothing.
Oh wait. I wrote a
thing for the grandchildren.
“Don’t pee in the pool
It’s not really cool
There’s only one rule
Don’t pee in the
pool…”
It’s not “Rainbow Connection” but it seems to have
successfully done the trick.
So, I guess, to the question, “Are of you a songwriter”, my
honest answer would be,
“Occasionally.”
Turns out, I have a six-song gift.
Oh wait. I also
wrote,
“Laven sus manos
(wash your hands)
Laven sus manos
Laven sus manos
Today.
Laven sus manos
Laven sus manos
Don’t pee and just
walk away…”
Make that a seven-song
gift. (With two songs about pee.)
Look out Irving Berlin!
(Who to my knowledge never wrote any.)
And now, my only theme song – music and lyrics – that made
it all the way to the airwaves.
Copies available… nowhere.
Enjoy.
Enjoy.
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