didgeridoo you

you that whole thing where saliere was a second rate musician with the uncanny ability to recoginze musical genuis? his undoing lay in the fact that he knew and loved brilliance, but couldn't reproduce it. thus he became bitter (and some say) homocidal against his rival, the enfante terrible mozart.

i don't want to put the hurt on tom waits or dylan or mike watt or the clash (the living members) et all, but i do feel awed in the presence of music. it's a language i love but can't speak. i'm hopelessly tone deaf. mathematically, i don't understand chord progressions. even lyrically, the structure of popular music eludes me. i adore it blindly, in total faith that what i love is good. and in the knowledge that i can't create it myself.

but wait! now me, the musical muggle, can make the sweet magic of music. and you can too. songs to wear pants to will do it for you. just take that fabulous idea you had for a song, send it to them, and voila! you're in. check out some other budding westerburg's ideas-

"write a song about my wife and how she always lies...it should be in her most hated genre, teen angst rock."

"make a song about baking. possibly the process of making cupcakes. mention something about pink frosting 30 seconds into the song and sprinkles 60 seconds into the song."

"make a song about a polar bear fighting a unicorn, preferably early 80's rap."

the doors to the universe are suddenly wide open. of what shall i write? and you?