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Tuesday, March 22, 2005
  More Moore, even.

It seems that there's a conspiracy going on: to transform every possible Alan Moore comic into a movie. So far the results have been discouraging. From Hell turned out boring. League of the Extraordinary Gentlemen is a disaster. And Constantine... no comment.

And there is no end in sight. The Wachowski brothers (Matrix) are busy working on V For Vendetta, and apparently Paul Greengrass (The Bourne Supremacy) has discovered The Watchmen.

What can be expected from these projects? Well, the tendency is depressing. Until now the "film people" managed to efficiently turn every brilliant Alan Moore story into trash. And no, it's not about being "true to the original", it's simply about good comics and bad movies.

Let's face it, we cannot expect much from the Wachowskis. They are not exactly renowned for their plot structure, and my estimation is that the cathedral-like structure of V For Vendetta will overcharge them. There will be much action and house-hopping and camera angles and whatnot but very little story. The result will be amusing but witless.

There is a glimmer of hope for Watchmen though. Paul Greengrass is a competent man and honest enough to admit that there are certain limits to what he can do. His version might not only manifest as a good adaption but also as a good movie.

Ah. We'll see, shall we?  13:27


Monday, March 21, 2005
  Like tapping a pulse.

For weeks now I've been working on a new song that would make it onto my band's next record. About eight days ago it got frustrating. Strophe and bridge are quite perfect, and I love to hum along to them when I take a walk. But the chorus simply wouldn't happen. No matter what I did, what tricks and techniques I'd use, it just didn't work. Whatever I came up with was melodious, harmoncally clever and highly detailed. And boring. No spark. None at all.

Today I tried working on a different song, for a change. No luck either. In my resignation I went back to the first song and chopped a few completely different and unfitting chords and screamed some rough notes. And that was it. My chorus.

After playing it a dozen more times I put the instrument away and started cleaning my bathroom. Then my kitchen. I read about arrhythmic heart failure and made notes. I made coffee.

Then I went back to my guitar. And there it was again. My chorus. Some melodies I've written are fleeting, and I have trouble remembering them. This was not one of them. I couldn't get it out of my head, where the notes kept ringing on and on. It felt like I had dug up some kind of source. It felt wonderful.

Tomorrow I might hate it. Happens. It's a mood thing, and once the mood is over the creation might be revealed as the crap it always was.

But then again: maybe not.  18:38