the Change I Wish to See

Gimme an F: “F!”
That’s right an R and then two E’s.
I need a Verse: “Verse!”
Just soul clap and sing with me:
“We want it Fri, day! ‘Cuz Friday the Verse is Free!”
Welcome back, ya’ll, to the Change I Wish to See.
_____________________

First, first, first: thank you to everyone who stopped by and wished luck yesterday.  The interview went really well and I’m glad I did it, no matter what happens.  But I so appreciate all the comments from yesterday.  Love you guys like a short kid loves stilts.  Wait; no: that can’t be right.  Everybody loves stilts.  Anyway, the sincerity is there, caught somewhere between a bad joke and an honest moment.

But the business…

I haven’t made much of a secret of my American Idol-watching lifestyle.  It is what it is.  I’m addicted to finding new music and once they get past the painfulness that is the audition round, the chance of hearing a diamond break through the rough is too exciting to ignore, whether it’s happening in prime time on Fox, any time on YouTube or on a street corner downtown.

A couple of years ago, Idol started this new contest within the show for songwriters.  Anyone sitting at home could write and arrange something, send it off to Idol and have a chance to have his or her song be the finale song the winner sang on the last night.

I took the challenge.  I have to admit, though, that I made what I now agree is a mistake by writing to the contest.  I tried to write something in the style of the previous finale songs because I thought that would make my track more likely to get picked.  Not only didn’t it work — awesome — but it also meant I then had a song that wasn’t really… me.  I’m working on rewriting it, because the premise is something I love.  But in the meantime, a glimpse of Head Held High:

head held high
was not my strength.
the best of me shined
on a small downstage.
i wished i may, and
i wished i might
but counting stars never made me
feel like i could fly…

so, i’d close my eyes
and just pretend;
wrap myself in imagination,
exhale through my pen.
looking back,
i miss where it began:
a broomstick for a mic stand, and
a radio for a band.

my story’s not a mystery.
my truth is clear.
i’ve come too far for destiny
to lose to fear…

But what am I listening to lately?  Melanie Fiona.  Thanks for stopping by.  Happy Friday and three cheers for a long weekend.