The True Nature of Man

“As it is written, There is none righteous, no, not one...”

Romans 3:10-12 King James Version

Humanity's true identity is evil. When left to our own devices, we will chose destruction, conflict and disparity over creativity, peace and acceptance. If we choose to be good is because we get something out of it, whether is feeling helpful, valuable, useful or wanting something from another in return. It could be love, esteem, acceptance, or simply trying to manipulate and control to get our way. Rarely, if ever, does anyone give to or do for others not expecting a reward. People do the “right thing” for fear of being caught. If our actions were invisible, we would act only to benefit ourselves. We need rules and limits to stop us from completely stealing/killing/hurting each other. Without punishment/consequences, it would be chaos.

Yes, I have very little hope in humanity. I’ve been done wrong by people that I thought cared about me. I had at least two “best friends” in my life that hurt me so deep, I’ll never completely forgive them. I’ve been abandoned by my parents, my (ex) husband, my (ex) church(es) leaders… I’ve cared so much about others, I’ve even abandoned myself. Loneliness is my company. I can’t trust anyone, not fully. Being vulnerable is not an option.

How do you live with an iron shield in front of your face? How far can you go on your own? How many “friendships” can you make and then destroy? Why even bother forming bonds with anyone? And yet… here I am, hoping that someone will care enough to listen, just listen! Don’t give me advice, unless I ask for it. Don’t tell me it could be worse. I know that. Just be there and if you must, just tell me that you understand how I feel. And for chrissakes, don’t make it about you! Not when I’m opening my heart. I’ll just make a timid attempt at sharing my soul, but will retreat at the first sight of ego.

“True Nature” is a song that expresses all these emotions. Here’s to hoping someone, somewhere, can relate.

Steven James — 'The true nature of man left to himself without restraint is not nobility but savagery.'

Letter to my younger self

Hola, niña. Hello, little girl. How have you been? You don’t know me, but I am you. I know you won’t understand since you’re only three years old, but I have to tell you a tale or two. Unfortunately, this world is cruel and you won’t have anyone to trust completely except yourself. That is why I am here. To let you know that I care and love you unconditionally. Somebody should.

You love to listen to music and dance. You like to eat, play and run. You play with paper dolls and pretend to be a housewife, with your toy ironing board and the rusted toy pots and pans that your grandma handed down to you. You ride your tricycle back and forth in that little balcony with the wrought iron bars, back and forth, back and forth like a little mouse in a cage. At times maternal figures laugh at you when you cry. You will be left alone and locked up a couple of times and will remember that the rest of your life, even though you’re now only three.

You will hold in so many thoughts and feelings just to avoid being alone, but you’ll be lonely still. People who say they care will tell you to just get over it, to quit being so sensitive. But you were born that way; it’s not your fault. You won’t want them mad at you, but they’ll be mad at you anyway. Even those closest to you won’t really know all of you. Keep it inside as to not offend or hurt anyone. They’d be so surprised what will go through your mind at times. They can’t handle it. You’ll find refuge in strangers, only temporarily as you meet them on the way. You won’t disappoint or frustrate them, at first, because they just don’t expect a certain behavior from you. They don’t know who you are or who you’re supposed to be, and neither do you. Well, you’re only three.

You will be forced to believe in what they want you to believe. Fairy tales, guilt trips, submission, suppression, poverty, lack, abandonment… all part of the cross you must carry. Until the day you start to get old and gray and finally try to set yourself free, but still dragging the broken chains around your ankles. You will be shamed for being yourself, for your color, your size, your hair, your language, your gender, your soft heart. But you are so cute, so pretty, but you will never know that. You don’t know that now, no one is telling you now, even though you are only three.

So many heartbreaks, so many lies…  You will be seen as naïve and stupid for trusting so much, for having faith, for expecting the promises to be fulfilled. But nothing is certain in this life, not your next breath. You won’t know who will be by your side today, and then forget about you tomorrow. You really want to believe that people have good intentions. They mean well. They do, don’t they? Why am I asking you? You’re only three.

You won’t have a chance to grow and bloom like the flower that you really are. When your years are running out, you will try to catch up and make up and grow up, don’t give up, just get up, move up, shake it up. With all your pains you will keep going, groaning, hoping, stomping, blaring, caring, crying, dying. You will feel like you’re running out of time, but you wanted to do so much more. Oh, I shouldn’t tell you any of this. Poor you, you’re only three.

It’s so sad to think that you will waste so much time taking care of people who don’t deserve you. You will spend so many years following a book that is full of contradictions, filtered through men who boast of wisdom, flawed men who cheat and lie. Your youth will be gone by the time you wake up and realize how foolish you were. You were born into that system. I wish I could take you away from there now that you are three.

I can only hold you and tell you that I love you. I am glad that you are alive. I think you’re truly amazing, strong, funny, clever, inquisitive, kind… and lovely. Not in the way the world sees beauty. You don’t look European. You look African and Taino. Yes, you have the big lips, big nose, big butt and big hair that others will call ugly. Plus your cinnamon skin that the sun loves to toast and darken. If you can look pass that and see yourself, really see yourself, you will see what a beauty you are. Yet, right now no one cares what you feel about yourself, about anything. After all, you’re only three.

Just know this one thing… You are so much more than you realize. You will get glimpses of your own greatness once in a while. You will half jokingly brag about yourself and then laugh at such an outrageous claim. But it’s true. You really are that awesome. If you want to have faith in anything, believe in you. There are so many wonderful things you can do, so many gifts that will be left uncovered. But for now, go back to drinking your warm milk, watching cartoons and looking at books. I will always be here; you will always be with me, my pretty girl who’s three.

Where has the magic gone?

Rob keeps reminding me that the music business sucks. Well, I had a nasty taste of that last weekend. As some of you know, our music is on Reverbnation available for streaming. They have something called Crowd Reviews, where you can get your music rated and criticized by music fans. Not our music fans, just fans of music in general. I'm not sure where they get these people from, but I figured we could get a feeling for what people actually hear when they listen to our music.

First I submitted "Cold Day In Hell" for review. It got a 5/10 score. If you get a 7, it's considered radio ready. I felt pretty good about the score and the reviews seem to reflect it. About half of them were good and positive. The negative ones weren't as bad and I was able to take them in without much issue. It isn't perfect but the song has potential.

Then Rob said that he was surprised I didn't submit "Inner Voice" for review. He seems to favor that song, as it was the first one that had that distinct Lucia sound. A little Latin/metal/rock mixture that took a while to be born, because it was a challenge to try to blend both of our styles into something cohesive. So I decided to give it a shot. I really thought it would do better than Cold Day. Maybe not a 7/10 but closer.

I waited the five days that it takes to process the reviews. It was a Saturday, we were having dinner at Black Angus for Rob's birthday. I got on my phone and opened the link to the Crowd Review. To my surprise, the song received a whooping 3.7/10. "What?! WHAT?!!" I opened up the actual reviews and we started reading them. I could feel my soul sinking into my chair. Out of 20 reviews, 19 of them said that they hated my vocals!! I was stunned and hurt, I can't lie. How can I possibly suck that badly? I started to question my abilities. I wondered if there was any point in singing anymore. I was so upset that I got teary eyed and was in a sad mood the rest of the night. It's been four days since I read those reviews and I still can't even sing to the radio.

How do I recuperate from such a blow? I guess with time my mojo will come back. I still have to go to rehearsal tomorrow and try to be excited like I was before. Fake it until you make it? I hated when they used to tell me that at church. I don't want to do that anymore. But what else can I do? I'm supposed to pick myself up and don't  be discouraged, but I don't know how.

They say that whenever you're creating something new, there will be opposition. Being unique is very difficult. Not everyone will understand what you're doing. We got a few who do, I'll have to hang on to that.

The magic is not really gone. It's hibernating. Gotta wake it up...

Worn and annoyed

Either by nature or nurture, I am a pessimist. I have very little faith in most anything or anyone. I make a point not to get my hopes up for anything because that way I won't be disappointed. I don't believe that anything happens for a reason, even though I wish it did. It is quite surprising to me when something actually goes well for me. I've often thought that I'm just a big joke to God and he hates me, or I'm cursed. Just like a stormy cloud over my head everywhere I go.

The song "Piso Mojado" was written to express how disappointing life can be. Just when you think everything is going great, you slip and fall. Here is the translation from Spanish:

"In a strange land with people of kindness 

Like a gypsy I travel the world without stopping 

Bad luck accompanies me every day, coldly 

My own family no longer wants to talk to me 

After 11 years of not seeing my dad 

He said casually, "you must leave " 

Taking another flight, it no longer surprises me

And blinded by anger, I walk without looking

 ~ Chorus ~ 

Wet floor, God mocks my grief

Wet floor, a meaningful life I could not find

I stumble and I stumble, pain with no end

I keep walking waiting to stumble again

Love is impossible when it's just casual

I continue to live because I must not keep silent

Damn my fortune, cursed is love

An amulet, a cleansing, a sorcerer I seek 

Read my cards, turn off my pain

Crying and running, I’m wrong again"

I did get lucky once. I found someone that believes in me. Someone who thinks I am awesome just the way I am. No, not God. One flesh and blood human being. Crossing my fingers, rabbit's foot in pocket...

You think you have time...

I’ve been separated for three and a half years. Man, it seems like so much longer than that! I’ve gone through so much in that time, so much uncertainty, fear, doubt, anxiety, etc. I was couch surfing, lived in a homeless shelter for four months, and then renting rooms, until finally last year I was able to rent an apartment with my roommate, Terri.

I didn’t know Terri that well back then, she was more of an acquaintance. Our common friend, Linda, thought it would be ideal for us to share an apartment. Terri was also renting a room and searching for a new place. The rent was doable for us and the place wasn’t too bad, even though it was an old building and the neighborhood was just slightly questionable. We had no sofas, no dining room set, and no kitchen appliances. I was very excited to be able to decorate the way we wanted to and buy things little by little. Terri didn’t care about any of it, she let me decide what to get. As long as she had her cable with her soaps and her crime shows she was content. She would come out to smoke a cigarette and that was the only time we would talk about our kids, our ex-husbands and our jobs.  Most of the time, she just kept to herself.

But when she did talk to me, to be honest, I didn’t believe half of what she said. She was married to a military man, so maybe she really did live in Japan. But did she really live in Hawaii and meet Tom Selleck? Did she actually go to Sammy Hagar concerts and got to hang out with him backstage more than once? This Terri? The one person that had a hard time saying “yes” to any social opportunities with friends? I couldn’t picture her being half as adventurous as she claimed she used to be. The most exciting thing that would happen to her was when she got to shout “Bingo!” on Sundays, which wasn’t very often.

I knew she had her demons to wrestle with, as we all do. Depression, addiction, emotional childhood trauma… She tried to hide the struggle, but I could feel it. It was like darkness that emanated from her bedroom, a thick cloud of loneliness that even affected me when she was in there watching TV. There was nothing anyone around her could do. But we tried. She didn’t eat well, and her health was not great. She had two blood clots, which really scared me more than it did her.

There were weeks where I didn’t see her for a couple of days or more and I would knock at her door with any excuse to make sure I could at least hear her voice and know that she was OK. One night, I knocked and she didn’t answer me back. I thought that maybe she was asleep. So I tried to call her again in the morning and still, no response. I was afraid to open the door. So I called Linda to come in and check on her. My fears were realized. The coroner said she had been dead for at least 36 hours. We were all shocked, but in a way, I wasn’t. I had a feeling that would happen, but I didn’t want to be the one to find her. I couldn’t even look at her body when they took it out. I didn’t want to remember her like that.

It was a really difficult situation, something I’ve never experienced before. Making that 911 call, telling the police and the coroner about her, trying so hard not to be nervous and give the correct information, hearing Linda calling Terri’s kids, going to work just to get out of that apartment and then having to go back… I hated being there alone that night. I didn’t want to go by her room knowing that’s where she died, but I had to in order to go to the bathroom. I couldn’t wait to move out, even if it was back to renting a room, again.

So I tell Rob and he’s shocked, of course. He felt really bad for me. Everyone he told just couldn’t believe it. A couple of days later he tells me that he has a song. I listened and it was perfectly sad. I wrote the lyrics and laid a scratch track down. “Nameless” was born. Rob shares the origin of the song: 

"The road to 'Nameless' started a long time ago in Alaska or Pennsylvania with an E minor/augmented 5th guitar riff that had the sadness of a minor key crossed with the tension of the sharp (5^th) harmony note. When I got my new acoustic guitar, I played it in E but moved it up to A to test the range of my new hollow ax. This became the intro. For the verse section, I reclaimed the wistful sound of the original piece by running both the rhythm and harmony lead as an E minor progression but with harmonic minor passing tones to maintain the tension of the piece. I felt that a passionate lead was needed in the middle, like a silent scream that you can suddenly hear. I channeled my inner Zakk Wylde to bring wailing pinch harmonics and abrupt flurries of string tapping to that section within the exotic E harmonic minor framework. I ended up leaving the rhythm guitar out to make the lead section pop even more with the sharp passing tones on the bass. The transition to the heavy part was eased by a high harmony lead and the acoustic rhythm mixed in to tie the feeling to the pure acoustic part. The structure for this song feels very unconventional. It falls back to the acoustic suddenly and the end seems to come sooner than expected. But you are left with the fleeting beauty of the final acoustic part as the lead diverges into a freer form. Every layer was individually constructed to add to the whole sound. It becomes the perfect vehicle for Veronica to exhibit a great amount of feeling that works with the bass and guitar layers to make the song complete."


So while at the memorial service, friends and family shared stories about Terri. One of her friends talked about the time they met Tom Selleck in Hawaii, and someone else talked about Sammy Hagar and the times she hung out with him.  I was stunned!! With tears in my eyes, I laughed as we remembered her life. As I’m writing this, I got a text from Linda asking me if we’re going to buy a pint of vodka and let out balloons for Terri’s birthday on May 9^th. I laugh and replied, “Terri would like that.” Cheers!

The best music is never forced.

"After "Cold Day in Hell", we had a few ideas kicking around, but none had that immediacy of a truly inspired song. So we waited. I am less worried about back-burnering something that isn't working. This is tough for Veronica sometimes, because she pours her heart out into it and then I shelve it. I feel a little guilty about it sometimes, but I really feel it is the right thing to do.

The next song came upon me like a spotlight from rock 'n roll heaven. It was on again. This one explores the feelings of inadequacy that everyone suffers from time to time. Sometimes, you find people that feel the same way, and really believe in you. You have a million little things in common and none of them are really holding you back like you thought. It really strikes to the heart of what it means to make music. It draws you closer to people that appreciate what you do even if you don't formally know them. You still feel that sense of belonging and accomplishment at a personal and/or professional level.

The vision for "A Million Pieces of Me" was a little bit of a Scorpions sound. In the pre-verse, I went for flowing natural minor (E Phrygian) that is the staple of much rock and metal. I leaned more on the 7 tone scale with long trailing notes with half-time triplet feel thrown in between. The verse continued the mission with a strong arpeggio which has a distinct hurry-up pattern, but the bass is what is really driving the feel. It took me a few tries to get the bass to fall just right. It continues the feel of the pre-verse lead, but adds in a distinct harmonic minor flavor. Then, on the chorus the bass fell back into lock-step with the rhythm guitar and the lead guitar picked up the harmonic minor melody. Then it drops back to the pre-verse with more flowing lead guitar. Once I got to the section dedicated to the lead, I wanted to try to add a technique on rhythm that Veronica wanted me to integrate. I can't pronounce it ("Rasgueado") but it is basically a Spanish technique that involves flicking the strings. The action on the strings of my 7 string guitar is very low so I had to work out my own little way of doing it. I was unsure but I left it go. The way that sounded, I knew I needed to rock a clean guitar lead. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Once I completed recording the lead, I realized that the background and the lead had combined in unanticipated ways. Perfect! Creating complexity with simple layers is a mainstay of the project.

Now, cue the ominous music... I wrote the lyrics and lyrical melody. I gave Veronica some guidance on what I wanted to do. This was a style she was not familiar with. Suddenly, it was a struggle again. I fault myself for my inexperience in writing for a singer. I won't point a finger at Veronica. She always comes through. I knew what I wanted, right down to the note. I was trying to hold it strict to key but the freaking harmonic minor undertone made it difficult to anticipate by feel. Veronica made a try at it, I bent all the notes right to where they should be, and mixed a copy for her. You see, though, you can't just pitch correct stuff and call it a day. It makes the vocals sound really weird. The point was that Veronica could practice to the proper pitch interval until it felt natural to her. Then she could come back and hit it on another recording session. And hit it she did! The more I hear the song, the more I realize how much she owned it. This was a song to let some of my techniques shine, but I'm not the only star. Did I say, Veronica always comes through?

What happens next? An unexpected, sad, and stressful event. You never really know how life will surprise and inspire you."

-Rob

"Here we were thinking anything was possible..."

Rob in Alaska, circa 1995

"... and starting a new song put that to rest pretty quickly. My vision for "Cold Day in Hell" was a tongue-in-cheek folk song. I wanted to capture that bittersweet sound that I heard when I lived in Alaska from so many folk artists there. The feelings are supposed to be complicated, not the song. It should be straightforward and clean.

This one was on the back-burner for quite some time. It was written before "Inner Voice" but didn't gel right away. One day, I woke up early in the morning and heard the steady rain on the roof. Suddenly, it was like I was back in Alaska and I knew what I wanted to do with the song. I could hear it, the soundtrack to my rainy day. I had it all, music, lyrics, feeling. It had to be a slam dunk. It wasn't. Veronica was like, "Folk? You want me to do what?" Suddenly the path was not so clear. I explained to Veronica what was needed for the style. She seemed unconvinced. She gave it a try and I could hear the magic sparking but not quite making the connection. For the style, the vocals needed to pull slightly flat for the ends of the lines to convey that wistful feeling.

Now, I've tried before to advise other musicians on things that fall outside my instrument. I always got push-back. They'd say that since I don't play drums/sing/bass, etc, I had no right to say squat. I was adamant in this case. I wasn't just writing guitar, so we needed to have the discussion. We did, and it was contentious. I felt a little discouraged. I didn't want Veronica to be a folk singer, I wanted her to interpret it in her own way. After all, I'm interpreting the hell out of anything that isn't metal, right?

Once she had her tracks recorded, I realized that she did understand. I had to smack my forehead! She had it! That little lilt on the ends of the phrases, it wasn't full folk, but it was flavor just like I wanted. It gave me a lot of confidence about writing for the vocal melody, but that did not mean a free ride. I'll tell that story later. 

I just have to say that Veronica might have pushed back at me, but she came through like a professional. I think that is the way it works if you are going to be original. Preaching to the choir was never news. It doesn't seem as strong as our other songs because it is so laid back. It really is its own experience. It is the gateway to our music for the adventurous folks, the ones who understand that adventure is found not only in a backpack guitar on the mountain, but wherever you take your passion.

After all, you bring all your problems with you; what you love follows you, too."

-Rob