AriKoinuma.com

Watching my children, I realize that kids don’t have walls like grown-ups do.

They haven’t learned how to construct shields around them.  Nor do they know how to lie, or even pretend.

They just feel everything, and let out everything.  Children are like mirrors of their surroundings.  You put garbage in, out comes… pain.

When you were a boy
You had no place inside your parents’ world.
You were falling like the leaves
from an old and dying tree

You went to school,
But the teachers made you feel a fool
While the children played with joy
You’re the one who were to avoid

Some day you will find a better place to stay
You’ll never need to feel this way again

Imagine, for a moment, that you’re looking at the little you, the 3-year old.

Pick him or her up and gently hold him/her in your arms.

And tell him/her “I love you.  You are safe with me.”

Heavy metal and aggressive rock get bad rep for being violent, damaging, or hateful.  The epitome of such a claim is when people start accusing artists of inspiring listeners to commit suicide or other tragic actions.

I consider it my mission to dispel such a myth.

Heavy music is good for your soul.

Pent up emotions are great killer of humanity.  In the name of civilization, we expect everyone to smile and speak pleasantly all the time — even when there’s a storm raging inside.  While all our emotions are legitimate and need to be validated and expressed, some of the unacceptable feelings like anger and guilt get repressed and condemned, and can sit inside stewing and rotting for years.  It’s been well-documented that those kinds of things can eventually lead to real health problems.

I’m not saying that everybody should wear their hearts on their sleeves and express aggression carelessly.  In fact, I don’t think we should do that.  We do need to get along, after all.

But this is where music comes in.

Listening to heavy, aggressive music can be a therapeutic act.  Getting lost in these music is a great way to get in touch with these buried emotions and let them out.  Yes, exercise is good and perhaps you can really get into sports that have a bit of violence in them.  But music can touch on feelings in a much more direct and powerful way.  It’s been my experience that after diving deep into these “heavy” music and channeling my feelings, I come out feeling lighter, refreshed and rejuvenated.  Also, that deep emotional connection gives a sense of community — I hate to say misery loves company, but really, you feel like someone out there understands how you feel, when you find a song that you relate to.

When I’m down, I’m not looking for some cheap resolutions.  I don’t want someone to tell me “it’s gonna get better” without really understanding the depth of my hurt.  I just want my pain to be validated — for someone to tell me “it’s OK to feel the way you feel.”

Heavy and dark music is there for me during those times.  And I dream of making music that does the same to someone else.

Perhaps it’s not a place where you want to stay — and yes, I can see that for someone really unstable, there’s a danger that it may incite undesirable actions.  I hope that artists do show some sensitivity to that, and frame their message carefully when they travel to these dark realms.

But this much is true for me: heavy music is good for your soul.  It’ll be your friend in places where it’s too dark and too heavy for others to come in.

And I’m sure that I’m not the only one who thinks that way.

I’ve written many songs over the years.  Some have aged well, others haven’t — and I feel like I’ve gotten into a pretty good approach that has the highest probability of producing lyrics that I feel happy about.

It goes like this:

1. 95% of my songs start with the music, usually the guitar, then the melody.
2. I listen and live with the music for a long time, trying to discern what kind of feeling it represents for me.
3. I try to nail down the emotional core of the song.  A single feeling that the song conveys.  Sometimes this is obvious, but a lot of times, I just have to pick based on the music and what’s going on in my heart at the time.
4. Then I start throwing out some lines that convey that feeling for me.  I usually start with either the first verse or the chorus.
5. After I discover a couple of lines that I like, I pick out the final words of the phrases and hit a rhyming dictionary.  I look up words that rhyme and see if any of them fit. Sometimes it’s a stretch to make them work but that’s part of the fun/discovery.
6. My lyrics start to take shape.  I do pay attention to the cohesion with music and structure — make sure that accented syllables fall on strong beats and saving the punch lines for choruses and bridges.  I like it when bridges, or the section before the last chorus, contains the most revealing line.  It’s like the whole song is a mystery up to the point, and then the answer is revealed, and then the final chorus feels like a resolution.
7. I tweak and tweak and tweak.  I swap pronouns liberally (I vs. you vs. s/he/they) and see how they sound.  This is a pretty intuitive process — I just work it until it feels done.  Sometimes it’s just the matter of living with the words for a while.  Other times, some unfit words/passages become more and more apparent, the longer I live with them.

To me, the funnest part of this writing approach is that there’s ample room for discovery for me, the writer, myself.

I always try to make sure my lyrics don’t tell too literal of a story and that it shouldn’t make too much sense, as funny as it may sound.  Because the more it makes sense, the less room it leaves for interpretation.  What is fun about appreciating a song’s depth is to tackle the mystery in the words, trying to figure out what it means to me.

Of course, I’m not saying a song can’t tell a story — on the contrary, I prefer a song with an “arc” to it.  There are some songs that just list stuff, for example — and from the beginning to the end, you don’t sense any change in protagonist’s point of view.  To me, that’s a missed opportunity.  Why take up a whole song to make a point when it can be done in one verse?

So it’s always a tricky balance.  To have an arc but the story can’t really make sense.  To have a clear emotional core, but still be poetic and evocative enough not to be too plain/obvious.

I don’t hit the high notes all the time.

Anyway, below I’d like to share lyrics from my songs, to serve as examples:

I see you in the dark room
Painting your own mirrors
I see me in the dim light
In the world of no errors
Sometimes, you feel the need
Come talk to me, come talk to me

I see you in the water
Wondering why you can’t walk on it
All alone in the dark room
You can’t see when you see it
All my nights, all my love, all my drowning seeds
Come talk to me, come talk to me

I see you with the flowers
You touch, but no feel
I see me in the dark room
On the way to the seal
Then you run, you run from me
Can you talk to me?  Can you talk to me?

– “The Dark Room”

That one’s one of my old favorites, a wispy, gentle folk tune.  It doesn’t contain any strong emotions musically — it’s one of my less dramatic songs — and over the years I just kept discovering different ways this song can be interpreted.  I’ve always thought that the important part in this piece is how the “you” person starts out in the dark room, but in the end the “I” person ends up there, and “you” person runs away. I actually didn’t realize that “a dark room” is where films (now sadly going the way of vinyl) are developed — I originally meant just a room that’s dark.  This adds a whole new twist/layer to the story.

Hey, let’s go down to hell
When the north wind rings the bell
Bring your sister’s shell
Out here it’s so hard to sell

Kill her secrets, one by one
Sacrifice to the sun

Hey, this will surely be fun
We’ll never tell the nun

Maybe…baby…mayday.

– “Shark” from Aries9: Darkness Reveals Beauty of the Truth

The opening track from my debut album is obviously a very special song to me.  There is some heavy word play going on here, so it’s harder to make head or tail on this one, but I see it as a conversation — with the verse being one character and the chorus being the response.  It’s an invitation, but to something rather twisted and sinister.

I give permission for you to die
I hope you go like a fly
With insides all exposed
You came on just like a knight
All dressed up to fight
Only outsides composed

Smell the stench inside your armor
Never take it off for paramour
XXXXXXX (this line still needs to be written)

When you go march like a metal wave
(save your anger)
Going on, chanting, “we must save”
(save our hunger)
Elephants will never know
The ants they run over in fit of rage

– (untitled song, still very much in progress)

Now, here’s a very angry and bitter one, that much is clear.  I like the opening line very much — it just comes out strongly.  But in my mind, the only person I’d allow myself to be this intensely angry at, is myself — so I’m still exploring where this is all going to go.  I want to see to it that the venom in here will not get watered down somehow, but I also don’t want it to be some kind of tantrum song either — we’ll see what will happen.

Ultimately, I think lyrics that leave room for interpretation are more powerful, lasting and satisfying.  It may be a bit frustrating at the onset but the investment it takes to come up with your own interpretation makes the songs mean more to each listener.  And the fun part for me is that with my approach, I am my own listener as well — I am discovering what the songs mean to me after it’s written, and the meanings change and evolve as I go through more life experience and gain new insights.

It’s really an immersive art form, this business of writing words to songs.  I am so grateful I discovered it.

It always strikes me as a bit odd when I discuss our finances with my wife.

Because I always find myself going “if our spending this month is high (or low)….”

Wait a minute.  Why am I talking about the spending as if it’s something that happens to us?

Don’t I actually decide whether to spend money or not?

Sure, shxt happens sometimes.  Car breaks down, kids get sick…. money goes out.

But does it really?  Is life something that just happens to us?

Take the longest day
Waste it all away
I can’t stand it
But I can’t do anything
Everyday’s the same
Nothing ever change
I can’t stand it
But I can’t do anything

That funny feeling is what “Woodburning” is about, to me.  The frustration of realizing that I am not in control of myself.  And yes, I think it is very, very funny, because I am the only thing I actually have control over.  It’s everything else, that I can’t control.

Then why am I spending so much time trying to manipulate everything else?

Them, I really can’t do anything about.  Things happen to me.

But my life is more than just automatic reactions to things happening to me.

It has to be.  I really have to make it so.

Because I can’t stand the thought of leaving my life up to some thing happening to me.

No, I will not stand it.

I’d like to think it’s a positive thing when I say that I work hard.  But I’m afraid I fall into the camp for those who work too hard.

Like continuing to drive without refueling.  How effective is that?  It really doesn’t take long to reveal the true cost of your ultra-short-sighted decision, to keep working.

In some ways, I feel like we equate preparing for tomorrow as the wise move.  From retirement saving to insurance, it’s all about being prepared.  You work hard today, you sacrifice today, so you can have a better tomorrow….

Except that, tomorrow is not promised.

If you’re searching out for something -
Don’t try so hard
If you’re feeling kinda nothing -
Don’t try so hard
When your problems seem like mountains
You feel the need to find some answers
You can leave them for another day
Don’t try so hard

“Don’t Try So Hard” is one of many moments that just totally get me from Queen’s Innuendo, the final album completed before Freddie Mercury’s passing.  In the context of his pending departure, a message like this is all the more poignant and powerful.

Imagine a dying man telling you “You can leave them for another day.”  But he doesn’t have another day.

And therein lies the point — do you really want to keep working for tomorrow? Is it really a good day, when, after working for 14 hours that day, you know you’re going to get overtime pay in 2 weeks?

Obviously, the context is important here.  I’m not saying that’s always a bad decision.

But for me, I’ve worked long and hard thinking “this is gonna make my future better.”  I’d be more prepared, wealthier, freer…. except that I keep working and working, and that day never comes.

I’m working too hard.

“Don’t Try So Hard” gets to me, because I still haven’t learned the lesson completely, yet.  I’m always trying so, so hard, to prevent/solve problems for tomorrow.

Perhaps, for some of us — what we need to do is to leave them for another day.

Instead of working, living for a change.

Lonely days will come and go
Nothing new unless you’re bold
Revolution #19
Brand new wave of anger

Stain yourself with pumpkin pie
Liquid tattoo, I got mine
Don’t forget forgetfulness
Call it deconstruction

There is no room inside a box

I don’t know about anyone else, but for me “being myself” is a term I can’t take lightly.  Pretty much my entire life has been a slow and excruciating process in which I try and try to be myself, but somehow I hold back, afraid, giving in to a voice that says it’s not acceptable.

I still haven’t figured out why.

Maybe because I’m from Japan, a society in which we place an utmost importance on fitting in and being a cooperative, contributing member to the greater whole — self-sacrifice is honored and commended, killing oneself for the greater good.

In reality, people there kill themselves in troves, unable to find hope despite it being a highly successful and developed society.

Developed in what way, I want to ask.

It doesn’t have to be this way.  Being good and acceptable doesn’t equal straitjacketing yourself.  It’s actually the polar opposite.

You are a gift to the world, and by holding yourself back, you are depriving the world of the greatest contributions you can make to it.

Come out, come out of the box….I know it’s scary, but you’ll be glad, we’ll all be glad in the end, when you do.

You can stop squashing yourself into that box.

You are bigger and freer than that.

I feel the fear take on
Reside in the shadow, thrive where most won’t go
Adrift, I curse my gift
And hope you’ll never know

Talk about catharsis — this blistering opening track from Jerry Cantrell’s epic Degradation Trip has been my go-to track for inciting a good cry, when I feel too much venom building up inside.  Slow and heavy, it elicits an image of funeral march to my mind, a slow walk to the darkest place in our hearts.

The lines that I particularly hit me are the last two above.  I believe that we are given gifts — as in talents and abilities, but also opportunities to learn and grow.  And with it sometimes comes growth pain — it’s not a necessary part of the process, but some of us get in the habit of hurting more than we need to.

But we hide our pains, pretending to the outside world that everything is OK, we’re all put together.  When inside, it’s filled with stifled scream, barely contained….

The healing begins with allowing us to feel the hurt, to actually scream in pain.

Sometimes, it really, really hurts…. and it’s OK to say that it hurts.  Let it out.

So that it will not live in you any more.

I used to hate money.

It’s because it was so painful to make them.

I really resented how I needed it.  Making money was such a difficult, excruciating process that I longed to just get rid of the whole monetary system.

Did I mention that I’m a Star Trek fan?

Well, nowadays, I’m making my more peace with money.  It didn’t happen over night, there are still tensions in our relationship. We’re working our kinks out.

But you know what’s funny?  As I traded jobs (and I had many) to the ones I liked better, so did my pay.

Of course, I like jobs that pay well.  But I have turned down jobs that paid more, because I didn’t like what I had to do.  So it’s not entirely true that I like my job simply because it pays better, though that’s part of it.

The job I have now rocks.  I love it, and that’s saying something because I’ve been there like 6 months now.  Usually by now, I start getting bored or tired of it.  (The longest I lasted at a job was 2.5 years.  But it was way too long — I was fired at the end, because I was so unmotivated to work by then)

I still think that we can eventually exchange our currency and capitalism for a system that’s better.  But I can see how humanity’s not ready for that yet.

So I am making my peace with money.

I hope you can, too.

I was very happy when I recently discovered that Tweetdeck can post updates on four major social networking sites — Facebook, MySpace, Twitter and LinkedIn.

And they are exactly the top four sites in my world!  Finally, someone agrees with me.  ;-)

It is such a joy to have a tool that brings together these separate entities.  I am just thrilled.

Then I thought of how it serves as a metaphor for a larger theme.

A reconciling force.

Most of us belong to multiple communities, or have multi-faceted life.  Work and home, for example.  They are both big part of you, both very important, they require your TLC (tender loving care).

Do they intermingle, though?

Not always.  Seldom for me, personally. They are completely separate and segregated, and they rarely cross paths.

But I don’t know if I like that complete, unbridgeable separation.  Sure, I like healthy separation between work and home, not saying there shouldn’t be.

But I’d like for them to intersect once in a while, too.  I’d love for my wife to see me at work, for example.  I’d love to have her see how I interact with my colleagues, how I do good work that I feel proud of and my peers respect and rely on me.  And similarly, I’d love to show off my family to my colleagues, because I have a beautiful family that I just love dearly and feel immensely proud of.

Why not, right?

MySpaces and Facebooks in the world are separate, independent entities for a good reason.  They each have their personalities and strengths, their own set of innovations.  Innovation is very closely related to the act of staking a claim — reaching, conquering a piece of land still unclaimed and saying “this is mine!”

And that is an admirable act, to be encouraged and applauded.

But once the areas are claimed and major entities are established — and they engage in healthy (hopefully) competition in the process — I think there needs to be a force to reconcile their differences.  Bridge the gap.  Because they do leave gaps between them.

A force that allows these divergent entities to co-exist together.

So that each can be who they are, their differences are not nullified — but they don’t divide us, either.  We all get inter-connected.

And you can see parallels all over the place.  Unitarianism tries to reconcile major religions.  UN tries to reconcile the nations.  We have a system in place to exchange between different currencies, so we’re not stuck in one community.

And that’s great.  As Covey would put it, that’s moving from independence to interdependence. It’s a healthy and natural evolution.

A reconciling force.  I quite welcome it, because I need more of it.

Wouldn’t you?

A simple principle I’m trying to apply to my decision-making is “which way is going to feel better afterwards?”

In the other words, I’m tuning into my imagination to see whether I feel proud of the decision later.

Feelings are great indicators of my state of being.  If I’m tired, I’d be unmotivated or move attracted to easier choices.

But it’s often not the indicator of which way I should choose.  If the path of quick, instant gratification appeals, I have to seriously question that leaning.

Because I don’t often feel good about it later.

It’s better to feel good later than now — as long as you don’t do it to the extent of totally suffocating yourself.  I’m not saying you shouldn’t take a break or get a relief.

But delayed gratification is where it’s at.