I’d like to think that some of my lyrics paint a picture for those listening, reading, interpreting…

When writing a song, I often have a vision of what the song could mean to the person sitting on the train, the person I’ve given a copy of the album to, the person scrolling through various YouTube videos trying to find a new artist to listen to.

My lyrics were mostly always morbid. Maybe if I were just a little more experienced at the time, I’d have been penning words for an emo band during the big emo days.

When I was in high school, I loved doing English. I chose it as my elective subject and would often be tasked with writing short stories or poetry. Teachers would usually grimace and scold my poems for taking the theme of end times and jealous lovers murdering their spouses over misunderstandings, favouring fellow students who would write pleasant poetry about how beautiful the world is and how much they love their families. I could write that too, but I aimed to be different.

I must have been about 6 or 7 when I was called into the school counsellors office to discuss the teachers concerns over a short story, I wrote about a murderer who had taken the Chief investigators family hostage. When reprimanded on possible inspirations from watching too many inappropriate movies (which I insisted was not the case. Thrillers and horrors often bore me) I would simply quote my Nan “that boy has got a wonderful imagination”

It wasn’t about being dark, edgy and offensive for the sake of proving I was harder than others nor were it to shock and entertain. I just believed that there was enough lovey dovey out there but not enough dark evil stories with twists and turns. When it came to music, art and poetry; I insisted on being different. Why paint a beach when you can paint a graveyard? In high school I was scolded for drawing a pirate ship battle where legs and fingers had been blown off. I’m terrible at drawing and painting, so I let the smudges and splatters of red paint cover up my dodgy drawings. Rather than be commended for having my own artistic style, the very essence of art and the objectification of art was squeezed into a simple line I remember my art teacher saying word-for-word “your style is dubious and your attitude towards art is disrespectful. This is not art. This is just gore and you’re showing off”

Cool.

Music class was always the same. People would write songs about peace and love and the things they enjoyed. I’d write “emo” stuff like “Your funeral is the best one I’ve been to. Every other person I never even knew” which was intentionally a combination of edgy and humorous. I was taking the piss, which made it even more irritating when my mental health would be questioned. When I had to perform the song in front of the class, some students were disgusted and shocked which was great but those who ‘got’ my ironic lyrics who’d laugh and grin as if they were witnessing some over-the-top video game played in front of them made it even greater.

I didn’t have conservative school teachers or peers. Just ones who weren’t used to somebody taking art and making it unpleasant. My graphic design exam involved me taking Da Vinci’s Last Supper and spicing it up by including all sorts of aliens and famous criminals on the table with Jesus. Thankfully my digital arts teacher loved it and said something along the lines of “it stood out in its own way when presented next to the other submissions from other students”

Anyway, my point is really simple: don’t let your legacy be tainted and changed by those who don’t see it as appropriate or fitting their system. You’ll only regret it. If you’re into dark, morbid, evil shit then use it creatively.

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