Still, I have far more friends on Facebook than MySpace. So, I’ve also created a Facebook musician page and made the same songs available there. I actually started creating the page many months ago but just didn’t publish it. I had wanted to add a music player first so that people could actually listen to songs on the page. However, the Facebook player required me to scan in a legal form of identification and to send that for approval so that Facebook could authenticate whether I really had the rights to upload the songs. This was a bit of a hassle and so for quite some time I just didn’t do it. This past weekend, I decided to look at some alternatives and found out that I can use the iLike music player instead. So I created an iLike profile and added the app to my Facebook musician page. The iLike Song player automatically includes links to iTunes so people can buy and download the songs that they like. The iLike Facebook page also automatically searches for related videos on YouTube and invites listeners to suggest videos as well. Pretty cool.

I haven’t found a way to link to iTunes from my MySpace profile, yet. It seems that MySpace should allow you to link up to Amazon — where my songs are also available. But I haven’t figured out how to do this. If anyone knows anything about this, let me know.

Creating a separate musician page on Facebook is nice because it splits out friends from fans. While you may want to keep your list of friends on the more personal side, you may be less sensitive about having your fan base grow untethered. There are a couple of drawbacks, though. First, you may discover that you really have absolutely no fans whatsoever and that your friends don’t really care for your music. Although this can be somewhat bruising at first, I think it’s better to know this now so that you can starting find the people that do care and avoid spamming those that don’t. Second, it’s awkward to have to add yourself as a fan of yourself, as Facebook encourages you to do. When you do, you basically broadcast to all of your friends that you are a fan of yourself, which just sounds silly. I’d prefer that when you publish your musician page, Facebook would simply send out a status update to your friends that indicates that you’ve done this — and include a link to the page so people can check it out.

One thing that I’m particularly unhappy with Facebook, MySpace, and iLike about is that there’s no native support for pulling an RSS feed from an external blog and have it automatically populate each profile. I don’t want to have to copy blog posts from my blog to each profile. So instead my only recourse was to look for and add third-party RSS readers to the profiles. None of the readers is perfect, but I’ve found a couple of decent apps that I’m currently using.

In addition to comparing the organic listener growth (if any) from each social network, it’ll be interesting to explore and compare the feature sets and usability of each service as well. I’ll write more about what I find out in future posts.

I started writing this song fairly early on in the pregnancy. During the first trimester, we hadn’t told a whole lot of people we were expecting, yet. I remember being so excited and just purely happy, but not being able to tell anyone about it. It didn’t matter whether someone cut me off on the 101 or if I had a stressful day at work. There was a sense that nothing else mattered — we were expecting, and within half a year we would be holding our own child. It was like I had a special pair of glasses on that made everything in the world seem brighter and happier. What would these glasses be called? Ironically, “sun” glasses made sense to me, as these would be glasses that would help you see more light and hues — the good stuff — from the sun. I liked the divergent meanings of sun glasses and normal sunglasses (which are more appropriately called sun shades, I think) and so the “sun glasses” metaphor used in this song was born.

During the pregnancy, my wife and I would regularly read about the various stages of development of our child. As the pregnancy progressed, we got an increasingly powerful sense that our child was already there with us wherever we would go. We started talking to her, started caressing her by rubbing my wife’s belly, and I started singing to her. So when I wrote this song it felt natural to address the song to McKenna while she was still in the womb, to exclaim to her that she was the one that made us expectant, that she was the one that made us feel such happiness. Hence the chorus, “you make me expectant.”

Still, I wanted the song to make sense for me to sing to her after she was born, as well. It occurred to me that children can make their parents expectant throughout life, not just in utero. So I created the third verse to address this — that this state of being expectant is not limited to just nine months, but even beyond that.

As far as the style of the song goes, I’ve been to Hawaii a couple of times now and each time I’ve been struck by the joy reflected in the music. And so I wrote something that reminded me of Hawaiian music. Perhaps a future recording of this song should contain a ukulele!

I recorded this song during the last couple of weeks of the pregnancy, when we were waiting for labor to begin. After McKenna was born, I of course sang her this song while trying to calm her down during late night meltdowns. I like to think that she’s starting to recognize and respond to the song… at first, I was able to relax her and put her to sleep by the end of the song. But only time will tell. I’ve noticed that other songs she hears could be having the same effect! As always, give the song a listen and let me know what you think. The pictures in the video were taken the day after she was born, while we were still in the hospital.

Through it all, the writing and music making has been progressing quietly in the background. My home studio has been taken down to make way for additional space that we need, so the recording has come to a halt. But I’ve managed to find some time to write a couple of new songs and to continue practicing some others. Until I find some where else to set the studio up, I’ll keep chipping away on the remaining songs in the works and learning to play them. Then, when I do get the studio set up, hopefully the recording will go much more smoothly. That’s the plan, anyway.

Oh and thanks to those of you who sent me feedback on Somethin’ American. It’s always great to hear insightful comments from you and to feel your continued support!

While I was happy that during this year’s summer games the American-beats-Michelle-Kwan incident felt less relevant than ever, I am a little bit discouraged when the US presidential campaigns start to drudge up questions about race and fear of Somethin’ Americans.

This song is about the hope that there exists unity in diversity. It’s about commonality. The simple things that tie is together. The fact that we live where we do or grew up where we did. Our clothing, our right to vote, the air that we breathe; the fruit, vegetables, and meat that we find in our grocery stores. It’s all the same stuff. We may wear it or prepare it differently, but it’s the same.

Ironically, the most American I’ve felt has not been while living in any of the nine states that I’ve lived in. It’s not when I’ve cast my vote, or paid my taxes. It’s when I’ve traveled abroad to Europe or Asia and have been immersed in other cultures. That’s when it becomes plainly obvious. There’s never any discussion about whether I’m Somethin’ American or not. They just see me — and treat me — as American.

There are times when we need to dissect our differences and in doing so realize opportunities to educate, communicate, and progress. There are times when we need to find inspiration in commonality. Now is a time for the latter. Although we can all claim to be Somethin’ American, now is the time when we ought all to simply be, American.

Among any group of people around any campfire, it almost always seems like there’s a handful of folks who know how to play a tune on the guitar. How these ax wielders reveal their hidden talents to the group — or even whether they reveal them at all — is always an interesting phenomenon to behold.

First, there are those that actually bring their guitars to the campground — they’ve learned a few songs, have played mainly in isolation, and recognize an opportunity to perform. Not all of them will actually gather up the courage to take their guitars out of their cars, however. Those that bring their guitars to the campfire and actually take them out of the case will fall into a couple of different categories. Some will play quietly and wait for the attention of the larger group. Others will boldly take charge and start playing a full set. Among those that did not bring a guitar, there are some who will volunteer to play the single song they know… then eek out a few notes that are barely discernible, yet somewhat entertaining. Then there are those that insist they do not play but leave enough hints to suggest that they are holding something back. After some persuading, they reluctantly pick up the guitar and then proceed to play a number that far exceeds expectations.

Regardless, of their personality type and skill level, almost anyone who has played guitar has at one point pondered the allure of strumming a guitar around a campfire for a captive, participative audience that sings along and sways, arms in arms, to Kumbaya or another campfire standard — although this scenario does not always materialize.

For me, I’m likely to bring my guitar to a campground, but I’m not sure that I know enough cover songs to sufficiently lead an intimate sing along. I do have some covers that I can pull out of my back pocket and I’m more than happy to play my own stuff, if asked, but I probably won’t force it on anyone. I often find myself savoring some other opportunities to play. On this trip, I woke up early on Friday morning and, before breakfast, made my way to the beach where I sang and played my backpacker guitar to the crashing waves and serene seaside. Playing by the ocean is one of my favorite places to play.

Finally, I should let you know that I did start the process of recording some video for this blog this month. I set up a video camera and some microphones and did a number of takes. Unfortunately, my home studio has some noise and lighting constraints that limit the amount of time that I can actually record. That said, I’ve been making some revisions to the way I’m playing and singing this particular song and I’m nearing a good solid take that I’ll be able to post soon. Stay tuned!

In the mean time, I’m thinking of recording some songs and putting them on YouTube and maybe MySpace. Although the recording quality won’t be great, it’s much quicker and it’ll give you a chance to hear some of the new stuff and new arrangements of the old stuff. It also could be fun to participate a bit more in the growing virtual coffeehouse that YouTube is becoming. So stay tuned!

Junebug published the post yesterday. You can check out our “real weddings” profile on the Junebug site, as well as our entry on the “what Junebug loves” blog. As you browse through the pictures (photos taken by Joey Hong), note that my wife deserves all the credit for the aesthetic qualities of our wedding — she did an amazing job planning it. And she looked absolutely stunning walking down the aisle.

I will, however, claim advanced credit for writing a song about our wedding day — Song #2 on the new album. Although I wrote the song last summer, I haven’t recorded it yet… so you’ll have to take my word on this for now!

Not only did I thoroughly enjoy the hour-long acoustic set by the Mayer trio, I got to watch it from about fifteen feet away. There were over five thousand people at the conference, but not nearly that many turned out for the concert. And the performance took place in a relatively large conference hall with plenty of food and drink to occupy the guests — many of whom expressed little more than casual curiosity for the live music. So although I was pretty close to the stage, I felt at times like I was watching a local band in a bar where the chatter from the crowd nearly drowns out the music. I’ve certainly played in that sort of environment before; it was encouraging to see that even guys like Mayer have to play through the chatter every now and then.

The Mayer trio played a mix of his radio hits, a couple of covers, and some bluesy tunes that I hadn’t heard before. Tempo-wise the songs were fairly similar — all pretty upbeat and nothing too slow, probably a good combination for this audience. I also noticed that his lyrics seemed to be a bit more on the wordy side in contrast to someone like Jack Johnson, yet he still makes it work. Interestingly enough, despite Mayer’s numerous radio hits the song that drew out the most camera phones and snap shots and cheers may have been the trio’s cover of Tom Petty’s Free Falling. I wonder if covering songs like this allows Mayer to expand his fan base to new demographics?

I also wonder if popular covers are a testament to the power of well-written songs? While it may take great performers to break hit songs, I think the fact that some songs can grow more and more popular with repeated covers highlights the fundamental importance of composition.

The band consists of Chris Pham on vocals and acoustic guitar, Alex Yi on electric guitar, Joshua Baek on bass guitar, and Philip Park on Drums and viola. The band is produced by Woody Pak and Gloria Lee, friends of a friend of mine. Woody is the head of Chaos Theory Music and has composed scores for Making Tracks the Musical, the film The Grace Lee Project, and a variety of other TV, film, and recording projects. Gloria is an ethnomusicologist researching Asian American popular music.

Seriously played a couple of sets that ranged from hard-rocking, electric guitar-driven arrangements to mellow acoustic guitar and viola-based combos. For one song about the mechanization of daily life, the band moved around the stage robotically. In another, the guitarist busted a guitar string and the band attempted some jokes. Overall, they seemed like a fun group of guys.

Among the songs I liked the best — Godspeed Cats and Dogs, and Fireflies. The latter most-likely because it featured acoustic guitar a bit. In fact, in some other songs I wish they would have turned the acoustic guitar up a little bit so that you could hear it better.

Overall it was a fun evening centered around a good cause. At some point during the evening, Yul Kwon even proposed to his girlfriend on stage!

Here’s a video of the band playing at Berkeley:

The main progress I’ve made has been on writing some new lyrics. I’ve pretty much finished lyrics for songs #6 and #7 for the new album. For song #6, the lyrics took me much longer to write — there were a couple of parts I just kept thinking about and coming back to and couldn’t get quite right. The ending, for instance, was tough because that’s when I wanted to deliver whatever commentary on life that I wanted to make with the song. In this case, I ultimately wanted to submit an answer to the age-old question, “why write?”

Song #6 is actually a bit of an homage to a French post-impressionist painter that I found inspirational during my visit to the Musee d’Orsay last summer. I not only found his work unique and compelling, but I was drawn to the story of his life. In fact, that’s one of my favorite aspects of visiting art museums — they’re like gigantic storybooks bursting with drama, characterization, comedy, climactic moments, commentary, and description. I enjoy consuming not only the stories depicted in artwork, but the stories of the artists themselves. So many of them struggle to be able to pursue their creative endeavors, while others are discovered early on and find themselves a patron. What they all have in common, though, is that they made the time in their lives to create art. It’s humbling in some ways, yet inspirational in others.

Now, many artists are criticized and ostracized in some way or another. But the reasons for why this occurs vary. In this particular case, I was drawn to the fact that this artist was criticized for being untrained and for painting like a child — for being amateurish, in fact. He was born into the working class, went to college for something other than art, held a regular job for most of his life, and got a pretty late start on painting. He was different from other painters and didn’t always hang out in the same places. He must have encountered the question, “why do you paint?” on numerous occasions. While I certainly didn’t read the biographies of all the artists in the museum, I read a number of them and this is one that struck a chord with me. This one stopped me in my tracks. This one sent me through this surrealistic time warp where I imagined shaking hands with this fellow and saying, “hey, I think I know how you feel.”

When I sat down to write a song about this, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to write about this painter as a role model or a hero — I’m old enough to know that role models change over time and that there are always things you don’t know about them. I also wasn’t trying to say that I wanted to be this person or to accomplish the same things in life. I ultimately decided to write about what I admire about him and to conclude with my own thoughts on why I write and why I think he may have continued painting himself.

So that will be song #6.

Actually, I should clarify that these song numbers reflect the order in which they are written, not necessarily the track number that they will get on the album. I don’t have all the titles for these songs figured out, yet, so hopefully this will suffice for now.