Last Cigarette

As I've attempted to rekindle my songwriting spark during these past few months, I've come up short. Using a variety of exercises to stir the creative juices, lacking any true inspiration. Waiting out the rut has been frustrating, as I've repeatedly challenged myself, only to come up short. 

However, the songwriting bug has a habit of striking when least expected. For the past few weeks, I've been on cloud nine, excitedly counting down the days until I will have the opportunity to witness my favorite artist, Gary Allan, at a concert (In an exciting turn of events, local country station, 95.5 WFMS, announced this past week that Gary will also be playing in Indianapolis a week and a half after the concert I had already planned on attending. Do I have tickets to the second show as well? Duh!).  I admire his work, and the raw emotions that bleed from every song. Getting lost in his albums, with exquisite arrangements and soul piercing lyrics, I find release and vision for my own compositions. Since purchasing my tickets, writing has been the least of my concerns, as I have been making a shirt to wear, designing a sign, and doing my best to contain my enthusiasm. 

Then it happened. At some point, during the past several weeks, I was watching TV and someone said something about their last cigarette. I don't recall the show, but as soon as they said "Last Cigarette", I thought it sounded like an interesting hook. Making a mental note of the idea, assuming it would be forgotten, I had no particular concept, so I felt no need to jump into a writing session. Well, some songs just won't be held down. Inspired by my upcoming Gary Allan shows, and armed with a hook, with a hint of a melody in my head, I picked up a pen and just kept writing. Painting a picture of a road worn man, I attempted to capture the moment of realization that an old flame has found her happily ever after, and all he has left is his last cigarette. 

Last Cigarette

© 2016 Chelsey Sears

Hold out for that final drag

Ember fading in the night

On the floor a crumpled pack

Not out of mind, but out of sight

At a red light deja vu

On a once familiar street

Doesn't seem so long ago

Last I was here, she still loved me

Sure I struck the match, but never prepared for the day

I'd  turn around to see, the whole bridge go up in flames

She's got that diamond ring, a family, white picket fence

And here I am, smoking my last cigarette

You know deep down, I just assumed

Someday we'd still have a chance

Catch up as I was passing through

God knows it never works like that

Least I admit no good could come

From a not so innocent hello

Guess I'll just do what I do best

Hope for redemption down the road

Sure I struck the match, but never prepared for the day

I'd  turn around to see, the whole bridge go up in flames

She's got that diamond ring, a family, white picket fence

And here I am, smoking my last cigarette

My taillight good-bye, now it's etched in stone

Yeah I made my bed, but never thought it'd be so cold

When I struck the match, never prepared for the day

I'd turn around and see the whole damn bridge go up in flames

She's got that diamond ring, a family, white picket fence

And here I am, smoking my last cigarette

Yeah my last cigarette

Hold out for that final drag

The Verse Curse

To say it has been a day or two since my last post would be the definition of an understatement. To be honest, life has been a bit crazy. Layton, my co-writer turned boyfriend, relocated to Orlando this summer. Still living in Indiana, a lot of my time and effort have been dedicated to job hunting, researching the housing markets, searching for a boarding facility, and, in general, attempting not to panic about the uncertainty which will come with leaving my life behind to start over. Needless to say, with the stress that I'm under, and because my favorite co-writer is living several hundred miles away, songwriting has not been at the top of my priority list...but that's not to say it hasn't been on my mind.

I have completed a few compositions since my last post, even sharing a very rough video demo on YouTube. However, most of my new concepts have been oppressed by The Verse Curse. Every week, on multiple occasions, I excitedly rummage through my work bag and dig out one of my little black hook books. On a fresh page, I scribble down ideas, images, my hook, and a few key phrases. In my head, generally within a few minutes, the first verse is complete. At this point, it's common practice to move on to the chorus. Remember, I'm suffering from the verse curse, so I come up a little short, or over-analyze my chorus to the point that I toss it out. During my moments of frustration, I usually get an idea for the second verse, explore that tangent, then return once more to the impossible chorus. I have several, for the most part, complete songs, as well as a few dozen random verses, but no choruses. This has not been a passing phase. Last night I was just humming and suddenly the first verse came right to me. I already have ideas for the second verse and a turnaround in the bridge, but no clue on how I should present my hook.

Words like frustration and angst cannot even begin to describe my current state as a songwriter, but I am hopeful that the curse will break and prove to be a valuable lesson. As I've learned during my five years of writing with Layton, with our quirky conversations and session sidetracks, songwriting is a journey, filled with tangents, lame jokes, big fish stories, and the occasional drunken bugs bunny sitting on the curb who, I can only assume, is beginning to question his life choices. I know, with all of my random verses, I will eventually get from point A to point B, and I'll hopefully continue to gather more verses and concepts along the way.