Literary Exorcism: 5 Songs to Fight the Demons in Your Prose

Sam Cooke

By Daniel Ford

Nothing helps your editing process more than stepping away from your prose for a bit and coming back with fresh eyes.

Unfortunately, what you return to might be a raging dumpster fire. That means the editing could torture you more than the initial writing.

Author Rory Quinn said something recently that stuck with me: “Learning to be your own most brutal editor isn't easy, but it is absolutely necessary.”

These five tunes should ease your pain:

“A Change Is Gonna Come” by Sam Cooke

Lyrics for writers: “It's been a long, a long time coming/But I know a change gon' come, oh yes it will.”

Using the above Sam Cooke lyrics as an editing mantra is a good place to start. Editing requires a different mindset than writing. You can’t start the process thinking that everything is going to survive your sharpened samurai swords. The weeds choking your real story must face their day of reckoning. A change is coming, and you’re armed with the tools necessary to execute it. 

“No One Ever Tells You” by Seth MacFarlane

Lyrics for writers: “Someone tells you later all is fair in love and war/But no one ever tells you before.”

Okay, so everyone tells you editing is going to be a bitch. But you never truly believe it until you’re in the trenches.

However, there’s something about Seth MacFarlane’s voice that makes you enjoy feeling miserable. He happily croons the line: “No one ever tells you what's like to love and lose/How it feels to waken and have breakfast with the blues.” If Brian the Dog’s vocals can accomplish that, your words can do the same. Don a fedora, turn the volume up on this tune, and viciously wield your red pen to coax the right notes out of your prose.   

“Agape” by Bear's Den

Lyric for writers: “For I'm so scared of losing you/and I don't know what I can do about it.”

Killing those little darlings is traumatic. Humming the chorus to Bear’s Den’s earnest breakup song won’t make the process any easier, but at least you’ll have something syrupy to fall back on after you smack the delete key. Remember, you’re ending the relationship with those words and phrases for a reason. It’ll hurt at first, but you’ll be a stronger, mentally balanced writer following the drinking and weeping. Plus, unlike an ex-lover, you can keep the trimmings around! Author Peter Sherwood is fond of saying, “Don’t throw anything away!” and he’s absolutely correct. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve used snippets of previously cut material to fill in gaps or awkward transitions. With that knowledge, the initial break up shouldn’t completely shatter your spirit.

“Devil in Me” by Anderson East

Lyrics for writers: Lord, forgive me for what I'm thinking/Cause it's Saturday night and I'm high and I've been drinking

Editing your prose can generate some pretty dark thoughts. Why did I write this? What was my motivation? Can my body handle any more booze or caffeine?

There’s a devil at play in your work and you need to excise him. Yeah, you’re overtired and possibly over-served, but that shouldn’t stop you from condemning the cloven hooved menace hiding in your literary garden back to his fiery underworld.

“S.O.B.” by Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats

Lyrics for writers: “Son of a bitch, give me a drink”

Editing can be a grim experience. Don’t wallow in the slow songs for an extended period. At the end of a long editing binge, crank up “S.O.B. and get sufficiently lubricated. After a few cocktails, tell your awkward sentences and flaccid dialogue, “I'm going to cover myself with the ashes of you.”

If any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us@WritersBone.

For more writing playlists, check out our full archive.

Nostalgia and Melancholy: 9 Songs To Ease You Into Autumn

Photo courtesy of Cristina Cianci

By Robert Masiello

“I sat listlessly on my porch at home, crying over the way summer would not come again, never the same.”—Sylvia Plath         

I’ve always hated autumn. I realize this puts me in the minority of New Englanders, most of whom embrace the season’s brisk air, bright foliage, and pumpkin-flavored whatever. Don’t get me wrong, I see the appeal—the nights are more comfortable for sleeping, the clothes are more fashionable, the restlessness of summer finally simmers, and the world slows down. But this season is also tied to an undercurrent of melancholy and decay. The days are shorter, and darkness nestles itself into the workday little by little. The leaves, though vibrant, are ultimately an ode to impermanence. Even the air is sinister, teasing us with a feeling of crispness before ushering in more biting temperatures. Fall is deceptive, masking atrophy with beauty.

I don’t liken my disdain for autumn to emotional maturity. In fact, it may well be evidence of the opposite, of an unwillingness to let go of the past and find hope in transitions. My tendency for bouts of nostalgia probably doesn't help matters, with the onset of fall serving not only as a reminder of the fleeting joys of summer, but also missed opportunities and unmet expectations. By the time fall comes around, we’re well into the second half of the calendar year, and callously reminded that time is relentless. Fall doesn’t care that you worked too much this summer, or that you never made that one last beach trip. Fall is unconcerned with the tedious coursework that awaits you at the start of a new semester. Fall is a cruel gesture, and in its path leaves naked trees and frostbitten grounds.

So maybe you’re like me and embrace autumn the way one embraces a root canal. Or maybe you’d just enjoy a wistful, subdued soundtrack to ring in the cooler months. Either way, here’s a playlist intended to comfort the sad souls this September.

“September Come Take This Heart Away” by Carissa’s Wierd

Before Ben Bridewell went off to make tepid country rock with Band of Horses, he was a member of Carissa’s Wierd (intentionally misspelled), a band that created some of the most elegantly mournful music of the early ‘00s. Any song in their brief but powerful catalogue aches with longing, but perhaps none more so than "September Come Take This Heart Away." 

“This room has so many windows, too many windows/I’ve sat and watched the trees framed to fade outside,” singer Matt Brooke begins. It’s the sound of feeling powerless against the march of time, and being forced to confront change and disappointment.

“Immunity” (Asleep Version) by Jon Hopkins

This is the reworked title track from Jon Hopkins’ fourth album, released as part of a gorgeous EP last year. Most of the electronic elements are stripped away in this version, revealing a naked piano ballad with ethereal vocals provided by King Creoste. It’s an unspeakably moving arrangement, with lyrics that mourn broken promises and letdowns. This song’s beauty is almost otherworldly, and proof that restraint and minimalism often yield the most breathtaking results.

“The Mark” by Cold Specks

Canadian singer-songwriter Al Spx, who records as Cold Specks, has a weathered, soulful voice that belies her age of 27. A truly gifted lyricist, she gives just enough detail in her songs to create a storyline, without making anything too obvious. This track from her 2012 debut seems to tell the story of a man who lost his infant son to either miscarriage or illness.

“Cross your heart and remember me, a good father and a bad seed,” she murmurs, downtrodden but resilient. By taking on the voice of her subject, she imbues the song with warmth and empathy, despite its dark subject matter.

“Fields of Our Home” by Tallest Man on Earth

The Tallest Man on Earth’s latest album “Dark Bird is Home” opens with this stunner. It begins as a rather conventional folk song, propelled by Kristian Matsson’s Dylan-esque vocals. But in the final verse, his voice unexpectedly gets shrouded in reverb, lending it both intimacy and vastness. The overall effect induces chills of the highest order, and Matsson closes by asking, “Is this a lifetime or some years?” It perfectly encompasses the way a moment, a year, or a lifetime can feel simultaneously infinite and fleeting.

“Tiny Gradations of Loss” by The Caretaker

The Caretaker captured ears and hearts with his 2011 release “An Empty Bliss Beyond This World.” A poignant meditation on Alzheimer’s and the restorative power of music, this conceptual album sounds beamed in from the memories of your great-grandparents. "Tiny Gradations of Loss” (starts at 36:03) masks a cheerful piano melody with static and glitchy interruptions, as if the moment of joy it captures is just on the verge of fading from memory permanently.

“All Equal Now” by Belong

Belong’s 2006 masterpiece “October Language” is perhaps one of the most mysterious albums in recent memory. Recorded in pre-Katrina New Orleans and donning ominous song titles such as “I’m Too Sleepy, Shall We Swim?,” the album can’t help but feel a bit prophetic. The music recalls Tim Hecker, and the shoe-gaze elements give it a harrowing, claustrophobic feel. This standout cut begins delicately, and builds to a deafening squall of noise. And yet, despite the harshness of the track’s second half, it never loses the warm ambient textures it begins with; the white noise buries the warmth, but doesn’t eliminate it. As such, it’s actually somewhat hopeful and indicative of rebirth.

“Gigantic” by Eddi Front

Eddi Front appeared out of nowhere in 2012 with a brief collection of stark piano ballads that sounded far too sophisticated for an unknown artist. There’s little information available about her, but her debut album is allegedly due for release this year. In the meantime, check out this title track from her earlier EP.

“Ive always been slow to get off of some drugs, to let go of some loves,” she admits, coming to terms with romantic loss. But the song isn’t all hopeless floundering: “I’ll crawl out of this hole soon enough,” she promises, able to see beyond the rubble.

“Never Anyone But You” by The Clientele

Few modern bands sound as distinctly “British” as The Clientele, and even if their discography doesn’t take many risks, the songwriting is reliably strong. Their brand of nostalgic Brit-pop is heavy on charm, but also has a ghostly quality that gives their material added depth. “Never Anyone But You” uses autumn as a metaphor for death, and even if that doesn’t sound particularly novel, the band pulls it off masterfully. The lyrics emphasize the way that memories color our emotions, even well after an event or relationship has ended: “So that summer passed, but I was never the same when I got home… there’s a phantom in the gaps between my bones.”

“Bonfire” by Memoryhouse

As expected given their name, Memoryhouse are unmatched at evoking nostalgia and yearning. The band has been mostly quiet since their debut LP dropped a couple years back, but this highlight is still an ideal soundtrack to chilly autumn nights. Singer Denise Nouvion pleads“lets get cold together,” grasping at a relationship on the verge of disintegrating with the onset of a new season. Her crystalline voice adds comfort to the sparse musical backdrop, like a sweater that fits tight in just the right places.

If any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us @WritersBone.

For more writing playlists, check out our full archive.

A Bottle of Red: Author Gary M. Almeter Uncorks An Inspirational Musical Odyssey

Billy Joel

By Gary M. Almeter

Here are songs that, in their own way, inspire me to write. In Baltimore, we chant “Seven Nation Army” at our sporting events and then delight as the Ravens defense sacks the quarterback or the Orioles hit a walk-off home run. If ever I was in a sporting event, albeit one requiring a typewriter, I would want the crowd to chant one of these. Thanks for letting me share. 

I Miss My Stove

I get inspired when a song makes an ordinary person its subject then revels in that person’s ordinariness. This serves to ultimately make that person, while still ordinary in every sense of that word, something extraordinary. That’s what writers aim to do. Holden Caulfield didn’t really do that much in the days following his expulsion from Pencey Prep; certainly nothing that warrants a whole book. But give him a red hat and an acute revulsion for phoniness and a sister named Phoebe and then write about him well, and he becomes an icon. 

“Stove” by The Lemonheads

This is a song about a guy who gets a new stove. Then he feels bad when he sees his old stove sitting, dejected, on his front lawn. Evan Dando treats such an event as a milestone, adds some anthropomorphism and emotion, and it’s poignant. Who hasn’t felt sadness at saying goodbye to an appliance or automobile? Also, we learn a great deal about both the guy getting the new stove and about the guy who delivers the stove (he was a prize fighter once and his son goes to UVM).

“Tom’s Diner” by Suzanne Vega

Similarly, Vega’s song makes an ordinary setting an event by noticing the little things that people do, like the woman shaking her umbrella and kissing the man who pours the coffee and the woman whose hair gets wet while she’s hitching up her skirt.

“Scenes from An Italian Restaurant” by Billy Joel

The fact that we know that Brenda and Eddie had deep pile carpet in their apartment and bought their paintings from Sears makes their story just a little sadder. I frequently wonder what Brenda and Eddie are doing today.    

“Escape (the Pina Colada Song)” by Rupert Holmes

The two nitwits in this song had to take out personal ads in order to realize that they really did still love each other. They even discovered something new, i.e., that they like pina coladas and making love at midnight in the dunes on the cape. For writers, a wonderful reminder that there is a story behind every personal ad.

“Daysleeper” by REM

Michael Stipe said he was walking in New York City when he saw a sign on a door that said ‘Daysleeper.” He created a story about the person living inside and the alienation he or she must feel. 

By now you might be saying, surely every song is about someone. But take for example the Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me.” It’s about a woman, disco’s own Eliza Doolittle, who once worked as a waitress in a cocktail bar. Ordinary enough. But there is a dearth of detail in this song. We don’t know the people. Details are what give a thing its authenticity. If we knew precisely which cocktail bar the waitress worked at when the guy met her, what she was wearing, what her name was, how exactly he picked her out and shook her up and turned her around, then this might rise to the level of inspiring. 

This isn’t to say that just because we know someone’s name, we genuinely know their story. Even the songs about a particular someone don’t necessarily provide a tableau for a story. See, e.g., "Barbara Ann," "Roxanne," "Suzanne," all the Delilahs and Sara(h)s, "Mustang Sally," "Charlotte Sometimes," and "Wake Up Little Susie."

Until the Dolphin Flies

Sometimes I think that lists are just crutches for people who cannot master the narrative. Other times I am inspired by songs that employ lists to evince various ways of saying the same thing. It’s a good lesson for a writer. Why say “I will love you forever” when you can say, as Stevie Wonder does, “I will love you until the dolphin flies and parrots live at sea.”

“As” by Stevie Wonder

There are literally hundreds of ways, some more effective than others, to say “always” in this song. It’s awesome.  

“Hawkmoon 269” by U2

Similarly, U2 uses myriad similes to express the concept of yearning. And again some are more effective than others. “Like Nicotine” is succinct and spectacular. I listened to “Rattle & Hum” from start to finish while on a long car trip recently and when the car stopped I took wrote down “Like Nicotine.” I’m not sure what I will do with it yet but I was literally inspired to write it down. That said, I have no idea what “Like a Phoenix rising needs a holy tree” even means. U2 does this with some frequency. See also, “Mothers of the Disappeared” to hear how many ways a mom can be reminded of a dead child.    

“Sledgehammer” by Peter Gabriel

Lots of ways to say “I want to sex you.”

Can’t Expect the World to Be Your Raggedy Andy

“Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk” by Rufus Wainwright

Writing is both a compulsion and an indulgence. Like cigarettes and chocolate milk respectively.   Cigarettes also evoke the scene of the writer listening to scratchy LPs of Ella Fitzgerald singing the Rodgers and Hart songbook as he sits in his apartment with typewriter ribbon stained fingers clutching a lit cigarette and the dreamy smoke therefrom gets stirred by the dreamy lazy sweaty ceiling fan. It’s okay this song says to be indulgent, to sit down and write even though there are chores to be done etc.  See also, “Cigarette” by Smithereens and “Coffee” by Sylvan Esso. 

“Empire State of Mind Part II” by Alicia Keys

Alicia proclaims that New York City is a concrete jungle where dreams are made of, and her displaced preposition notwithstanding, she’s right. I can’t help but think of Cheever, Capote, Foer, Lee, Lethem et al using New York as both home and their muse. 

“A Lady of A Certain Age” by Divine Comedy

This song is an epic in every sense of that word, chronicling a lady’s reverie from London to New York to Capri over the course of several decades. It’s a novel in four minutes. What is inspiring about this song again is the details. We know what kind of dresses this woman wears and what kind of perfume this woman wears. 

Be Running Up That Road

“Running Up That Hill” by Kate Bush

I didn’t expect to get inspired by this. But sometimes hearing a song in a different context can be so jarring as to inspire. 

“Forever In My Life” by Prince

See all music videos Prince

This was the song JFK Jr. and Carolyn Bessette Kennedy played for their first dance after their wedding in that old slave church on Cumberland Island, September 21, 1996. Sometimes I listen to it, picture the scene and wonder if anyone will ever be able to write a story quite like the Kennedys’. Also, does Prince know this?

“Like the Weather” by 10,000 Maniacs

I remember where I was the first time I heard this. I was driving home from tennis practice and at the top of this one hill by my house you could get a radio station from Toronto and I was at the top of this hill for about four minutes and caught this whole song. It was like nothing I had ever heard.      

“Don’t Change” by INXS

This song gave me courage in high school. And decades later helped me finish the Boston Marathon.   

“Busby Berkley Dreams” by Magnetic Fields

If I ever write anything as beautiful as, “I haven’t seen you in ages but it’s not as bleak as it seems. We still dance on whirling stages in my Busby Berkley dreams,” I will consider myself a success. 

Gary M. Almeter is an attorney and has been published in McSweeney's and The Good Men Project. Also check out his short story “The Love Song of JFK Jr.” featured in Writer’s Bone’s original fiction series.

If any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us @WritersBone.

For more writing playlists, check out our full archive. 

The Places You’ll Go: 6 Songs From Author Adam Kovac That Will Inspire Your Writing Journey

Stevie Wonder

By Adam Kovac

I wrote a novel called The Listening Post. It’s about a wounded veteran who gets called up from the reserves and sent to Iraq. The book is not based on my experience in Iraq or in Afghanistan. Still, I couldn’t have written the story without having been through the experience. The Listening Post is unpublished, but perhaps that’s a good thing. I never intended to write about the war, at least not for my first novel. But a writer doesn’t always get to choose his or her subject.

Full confession: I can’t write to music. If I did, I’d never put a word on paper. It’s the same with the silence of the library or home. Instead, my writing soundtrack is comprised of coffee shop noises—the grinders, that gizmo that whips the milk and the conversation of strangers.

That’s why I was thrilled and confounded when Daniel Ford asked me to contribute a music list for Writer’s Bone. A moment that reminded me of my days as a newspaper reporter, when we’d play a game at press conferences called, “Stump the Chump.” But I do like music before writing or after I’ve shut down the laptop for the day.

Here’s a selection that gets my juices flowing, helps me plow through those tough times. I hope you enjoy. Thanks for letting me share.

“The Greatest Man That Ever Lived,” by Weezer

Writing’s a tough business and this is your anthem.

“Superstition,” by Stevie Wonder

Rejection, critics, and self-doubt cannot defeat you.

“Gigantic” by The Pixies

Remember the last time you wrote something absolutely huge.

“Ghost of Stephen Foster,” by Squirrel Nut Zippers

And don’t be afraid if the story takes you to strange places…

“Up the Wolves,” by The Mountain Goats

…because you’ll make out okay.

“The Laughing Heart,” by Charles Bukowski (read by Tom O’Bedlam)

Yes, my friend. You are truly marvelous.

Learn more about Adam Kovac by following him on Twitter @Boondock60mm.

If any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us@WritersBone.

For more writing playlists, check out our full archive. 

Laying It Down To the Big Sound: How Music Inspires and Informs Author Lawrence Parlier’s Writing

By Lawrence Parlier

When I set out to write my first novel, Sierra Court Blues, I knew that music would be its core. It is a story about young musicians trying to make it big, a work of fiction heavily informed by my own experiences in bands over the years. My aim was to make music more than an occupation of the characters. I wanted music to be an element of the text itself. I wanted the prose to wail.

It was the rhythm and dynamics of hard rock and heavy metal that would drive the story forward. It was that feeling of raw rebellion I wanted to capture.

I approached the outline as if I were creating a mixtape. The arc of the story charted to the sounds of Iron Maiden’s “Powerslave” and Rush’s “Moving Pictures,” a mad juxtaposition but a necessary one.

The histrionics of Iron Maiden, for me, captured the heightened emotion of struggling young musicians adjusting to the demands of a working band while, at the same time, dealing with the pressures of being on their own in the world for the first time. It helped portray the recklessness of youth and characters bent on steamrolling their way through it all.

Adversely, Rush’s “Moving Pictures” contributed to the book’s quieter moments. It spoke to the thoughtfulness of the main character as he struggles to navigate his newfound fame and the relationships at the heart of the story’s conflict.

Throughout the book music moves from the forefront to the background, my hope being that, subconsciously, the songs and bands mentioned would help set the scene and create a third dimension, a depth of field in the reader’s mind.

In this, I didn’t want to limit myself to a specific genre of music. The sound had to reflect the world around them in a much more meaningful way. Throughout the book there is everything from the dance party of Dee-Lite’s “Groove is in the Heart” to Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” to quiet midnight drives powered by Wynton Marsalis’ “Blue Interlude.”  

The characters affinity for, or aversion to, the diversity of music went a long way in helping to define them as they developed on the page.

With the music in place the world these characters inhabited came into sharp focus. It became a place that I wanted to visit and hang out in to see the band. I hope that this is true for the reader as well.

To learn more about Lawrence Parlier, visit his official website, like his Facebook page, or follow him on Twitter @LawrenceParlier.

If any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us@WritersBone.

For more writing playlists, check out our full archive. 

Skeleton Crew: 5 Songs To Transform Your Demons Into Prose

By Daniel Ford

I couldn’t very well let the likes of Brian Panowich, David Joy, Michael Farris Smith, Steph Post, and Dave Pezza have all the fun.

I’m currently in the re-writing/editing phase of my debut novel, and along with an assist from authors Scott Cheshire, Anne Leigh Parrish, and the aforementioned Steph Post, as well as Dave and my writing muse/goddess Stephanie Schaefer, music helps me ignore the skeletons in my closet and embrace the better angels of my writer’s soul.

I’ve long maintained that good writing—that writing that violent wrests you away from reality—should read like the author wrote it while on fire (Ross Ritchell’s The Knife and Elliot Ackerman’s Green on Blue are excellent examples). Not flames of desperation, but of an inescapable, all-consuming earnestness that should ignite your own passion for your words and prose.

Here are five songs that might also help light your fuse.

Zac Brown Band “All Right”

This is a good place to start:

“I'd have a lot to give/If I still gave a damn.”

Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young “Love the One Your With”

God, did I force my main character into some crappy situations while I listened to this song. Poor bastard didn’t even see it coming.

“Don't be angry, don't be sad/Don't sit crying over good times you've had/Well there's a girl sitting right next to you/And she's just waiting for something to do.”

My favorite version of this song is on Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young’s “4 Way Street,” but for YouTube purposes, this version featuring four old guys with suspect vocals getting bluesy will do just fine (there’s also nothing like a Neil Young guitar solo to get you going on a Friday afternoon).

Elton John “Take Me to the Pilot”

I’ve long past the point of being objective about Elton John, but I defy anyone to find a subpar version of this song. It can’t be done. Talk about love on fire:

“If you feel that it's real I'm on trial/And I'm here in your prison/Like a coin in your mint/I am dented and I'm spent with high treason.”

And as the video above proves, this song only gets better with age.

Johnny Cash and June Carter "Jackson"

Jesus Christ, what a love affair. Between June Carter's growl and Johnny Cash's swinging hips, I'm surprised the set in this video didn't burn down. This is exactly how I wanted every relationship my main character had to sound: blistering, desperate, and just a little bit angry. 

Zac Brown Band “Let it Rain”

Fuck it. Why not end with one more tune from Zac Brown Band’s brilliant “Dave Grohl Sessions, Vol..1?”

After you’re done with the first draft of your novel, you have to celebrate. I opened up a bottle of single malt scotch, eased back in my desk chair, and smiled the widest grin I could muster. You’re certainly not at the end of the road, but you’ve hit a major milestone, so enjoy the moment. Let your skeletons darken your door a final time, and then calmly, confidently extend your middle finger.

Daniel Ford

Daniel Ford is an author based out of Boston, Mass. His work can be found on Amazon, Writer’s Bone, JCKonline.com, and HardballHeart.com. Follow him on Twitter

If any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us@WritersBone.

For more writing playlists, check out our full archive. 

The Silks, The Last American Band You Should Be Listening To

The Silks performing in Detroit (Photo courtesy of the band's Facebook page)

By Dave Pezza

There is a lull between songs, that gasp of air and respite that both the band and the audience doesn’t need but thankfully takes. A couple in front of me—a girl whose feeling good and a boyfriend who is quickly becoming a babysitter—pause their dancing. The girl calls out,

“Play ‘Can’t You Hear Me Knocking’!!!!!”

The guitar player finishes his shot and leans over to the microphone,

 “Yea sure, but you gotta come up and sing.”

The girl moves behind her boyfriend and buries her face in his back.

“Do you know the words? If you can sing it we’ll play it.”

The guitarists’ tone teeters between disingenuous and playful, heavily influenced by the booze and the fact that their fucking killing the set. I think he must feel invincible.

“Nah, she doesn’t know the words!” The girl’s boyfriend yells.

“I’ll play one of my own instead,” he says matter-of-factly and opens “Trouble,” a groove infused powerhouse that gets everyone in the dank, dark bar dancing like Woodstock just broke out in this shitty part of Providence. They’re all fans; they’ve all heard it before; they’re all convinced that they are hearing something rare and beautiful and dangerous. We feel like the only new ones, the only ones who came not knowing what we were going to hear, and we’re now starting to feel the same way.

The Silks come from Providence, and they sound like a classic rock band, a really fucking good classic rock band. A three piece of lead, bass, and drum that sounds so tight that I refused to believe that their new drummer had learned the majority of the set list the day before, including a song that he learned 20 minutes ago in the bathroom. The Silks have been around for a few years, releasing their first, and only, album in 2013, “Last American Band.” The album title is douchey and assuming, but it’s right. The Silks might be the last American band. They can do it all: ballads, classic rock, blues, slide guitar, 10-minute bass grooves, drum solos, harmonica. I paid $10 at the door and got a show every bit as good as monster acts like Foo Fighters and Queens of the Stone Age.

After the band finished its most radio friendly song, “Down at the Heel,” a crooning classic rock anthem, the lead guitarist takes a moment, adding a capo to his guitar, and announces a new song that’s not on their album,

“It’s good to see you all hear supporting us at Fête, but the truth is we haven’t been doing so well. So thank you all for coming out tonight and bringing all your friends. This song is called “Hold On,” and that’s what we’re trying to do."

And that was when it hit me; these guys are struggling. They’re not on iTunes, and the bar we were dancing in maybe had 30 people tops, the vast majority of which were friends and old supporters. How can a band this good be struggling? 

“If those guys were putting records out in the 1970s, they’d still be on the radio today,” my friend said later.

He nailed it. If this was 1975, The Silks would be headlining arenas all over the United States. Trust me; I’m not over reaching. But what does that say about rock music today, and its place in the culture. There isn’t a gimmick with The Silks, they don’t take bullshit; they just get up there and fucking rock. No covers, no acts. Just song after song after song of damn good rock 'n' roll. 

So what’s the problem? There has to be a catch, right? Something we don’t know about them. But the real answer is that the problem is us. We don’t support music like we once did, because we don’t need to. Concert tickets are expensive, so we don’t feel bad about not going too often; music is cheap and inexpensive on iTunes or, let’s be honest, free if you’re downloading it illegally. And  usually we are listening to it in our own heads, shutting out the world in the process. And that’s for big acts, bands that have already “made it.” Bands like the The Silks who can’t afford to be on a large, money making digital providers like iTunes, because iTunes is seeing most of that money. They are on bandcamp and promote through Facebook. Their first album is $10 on bandcamp, or you can see them in person and grab it on vinyl (highly recommended) for $25.

But are you willing to go a show in a dive bar to see these guys play, with little to go on other than my word and maybe listening to some tracks on YouTube? You should because that's how it used to work. Covers were cheap, and the band actually saw a good chunk of that. You gathered up your friends to the bar and drank your face off, rocking to some good live music. You didn’t have to buy tickets six months in advance, rent a hotel room, get stripped searched at the venue, or pay $12 dollars for a beer. You just got up and went.

The Silks might just be the last American band, and its future depends on whether we want good bands and good music anymore. And if we do, we have to start supporting them in real, tangible ways. So please, visit the band's official website, like its Facebook page, or download the album.

Dave Pezza spends his time trying to justify printing "writer" under "Occupation" on his passport application. Pezza has never been to a concert and not screamed "Freebird" at the top of his lungs. Follow him on Twitter @Dave_Pezza.

If any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us@WritersBone.

For more writing playlists, check out our full archive. 

Haunted Playlist: Author Steph Post's 10 Songs Will Drive A Writer Mad

By Steph Post

This is not the soundtrack for my novel A Tree Born Crooked. I put that baby out on Largehearted Boy’s Book Notes series a few months ago. The novel soundtrack featured artists such as Rancid, Hank III, Reverend Horton Heat, and, of course, Tom Waits.

That was the playlist of Budweiser, pickup trucks, and cheap motels. Each song had a particular scene or character that it was perfectly matched to. This is the playlist of dreams. They are mostly instrumental songs because usually words get in the way of making words. These are the songs of late nights and early mornings. The songs meant for that space between reality and fantasy, which is the manna that writers feed on. Those liminal moments after the last glass, when the line between yourself and your characters blur. When anything is possibly, because you can make it possible. Even if you’re only lying on the floor with your headphones in, eyes closed, doors in your head opening. These are the song you are meant to give in to. The songs you listen to alone, so you can create a story for someone else.

Cat Power or Michael Hurley “Werewolf”

(Both versions are equally haunting) This is for the fairytales. For the archetypal fears that will bubble to the surface if we let them.

Alexandre Desplat “The Imitation Game”

This is for peeling back the layers on the characters wearing the masks. For seeing behind and beneath.

Dawn Mitchele “Float Like a Feather”

This is for trying to understand romance. For breaking it down into its most essential instance: vulnerability.

Trevor Morris “Messenger of War”

This is for the epics. For trying to dream on a grander scale.

Hans Zimmer “Coward”

This is for understanding what’s at stake. For putting two characters in a room, locking the door and letting it all play out from there.

Brandon Flowers “Only the Young”

This is for the moment of hope. For letting the heroes win.

Nine Inch Nails “The Hand that Feeds”

This is for the badass characters. The women who take no prisoners. The men who refuse to compromise. 

The Evolved “Theme from World War Z”

This is for urgency. This is for setting the story in motion.

Clint Mansell “Lux Aeterna”

This is for sadness. For saying goodbye. For the character who has to be sacrificed for the story.

Foo Fighters “Walk”

This is for screaming “fuck you” at the top of your lungs. To the critics. To the voices of doubt within yourself. To not having enough time or space or inspiration. This is the gauntlet thrown down in challenge.

May we all take it.  May we all slip on our headphones and dare to dream. And then dare even further to write.

Steph Post

To learn more about Steph Post, check out her official website, like her Facebook page, or follow her on Twitter @StephPostAuthor. Also check out our interview with the author.

If any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us @WritersBone.

For more writing playlists, check out our full archive.