I want honey on my table….

Black Honey, by Thrice

I keep swinging my hand through a swarm of bees/I can’t understand why they’re stinging me
But I’ll do what I want/I’ll do what please/I’ll do it again till I got what I need


Really, this is such a Honey Badger-sounding song, I couldn’t resist (even though I’ve never really drawn a ratel before and probably won’t attempt it again). If the poor guy here would just look up, he might be able to get the stinging over with a lot faster…

Speaking of looking up, while looking up images of the honey badger I discovered that apparently the “fact” that they follow honeyguide birds is more secondhand folk wisdom than something that has been properly documented … anywhere. Who knew?


Save a horse….

Okay, I’ve led you astray with the title again, but it’s still kinda relevant.

This one’s basically a mashup, because I discovered (to my mild dismay) that my brain considers Bishop Briggs’ “Wild Horses” and Ginuiwine’s “Pony” to be interchangeable, and when the former is stuck in my head it frequently segues into the latter at some point mid-chorus without notifying me first.

As you may have noticed, the tune and syllable count aren’t so different:

Let’s do it
Ride it, my pony

Wild horses
Wild horses, run faster

Due to this I decided to envision it as a sort of conversation between the two choruses. The eternally-optimistic pony here is based loosely on a strutting little bay stallion I know.


Can you hear my voice this time?

On the last proper day of spring break (and thus probably the last day of regular posts to this blog for a bit), it occurs to me that singing is weird.

In some ways it’s just weird in the way any art is — you can enjoy it (maybe enjoy it better) without really understanding what makes it good or having any particular talent for it yourself. But even in this strange company it’s kind of an outsider. Unlike painting, writing, dancing, or even playing an instrument, it’s really best appreciated through performance. You read a book, listen to a symphony, watch a ballet, you sing your favorite songs. You sing even as you listen, and once you’ve learned them you can repeat them to yourself whenever you like and enjoy them all over again, no matter how bad you are at actually producing the notes. Storytelling is like this too, I suppose — but stories are dynamic, shared things independent of the written word, and they’re so close to music as to hardly count as a different medium. Dancing, perhaps, is close; but songs have no steps.

What’s more, whole groups of people can recreate the entire piece simultaneously, alongside the “real” performer, with very little effort or practice. I was thinking of this when reviewing a little clip I recorded (shh!) with my phone during a concert; during the event I was focusing on the sound of the singer’s voice, but in the recording you can of course hear the crowd singing along. Surely most of us (certainly me) were off-key at times, forgot words, weren’t always on the beat. But the combined sound of hundreds of voices smooths away any individual roughness, and the overall effect is of this massive group of people more-or-less perfectly matching every lyric and lilt and “ooh” and “ah” in a complicated song they’ve never heard performed in this exact way before.

It’s strange and lovely, and it’s really no less so in the myriad other similar ways we’ve all encountered this — a small group at a birthday party, perhaps, or a larger one at a church or school. But one person can repeat a song too, without anyone else helping along or listening. Sometimes we just sing for ourselves, even if the songs were not originally our own. Musicals (animated and otherwise) continue to thrive, I suspect, because deep down it doesn’t seem so entirely strange to us that people would just spontaneously erupt into an elaborate bout of singing during a particularly emotional moment.

Taking a bit of a left turn here, this is the one problem I have with today’s ditty, Fight Song by Rachel Platten. There is one single word in these lyrics that always makes me feel like this song is a carefully-crafted attempt to get people to buy/stream this song rather than being a heartfelt melody, and that’s “play.” “I’ll play my fight song.” You don’t play a fight song, it’s a fight song. You sing it yourself. Or with/to/for your fellow fighters. Sure, in the real world people will also play it because it is in fact a song by Rachel Platten, but in the song’s own little mini-universe it’s her song, and it’s clearly not instrumental, so I can’t see why she wouldn’t sing it herself … unless, like “GOTTA CATCH ‘EM ALL” it’s a not-so-subtle encouragement to the listener. I even sing it in my head as “sing” rather than “play” sometimes; I don’t know why this makes me so grumpy, but we all have our obsessions. I do like Fight Song well enough otherwise, despite that one car commercial. I just like Lone Ranger better….

Anyhow, here is a rough-and-tumble little Wren, the king queen of the birds, and she may not be singing but she certainly has a lot of fight. As with the Battlefield griffin earlier, she’s drawn with my “quill” pen, which is basically a regular pen that ends in a black plastic/rubber feather instead of an eraser and looks awesome.


No more drama….

Family Affair, by Mary J. Blige

Let’s get it percolatin’/While you’re waitin’
So just dance for me


Honestly I just liked the mental image of a unicorn saying “crunk.” Also, to make it a proper family affair I threw in some horses, the tail end of a pony, a goat (unicorns are kind of horsegoats after all), and of course an ass on the dance floor. Don’t ask why it’s one of those 70’s light-up disco floors, it’s after midnight and the pencil draws what it draws.

I see fire….

PSYCH, that’s not the song this one is about (although it does involve Smaug).

Actually this one’s kind of cheating, because it’s inspired by a song so much as an opportunity for both wordplay and a rather unlikely Miss Congeniality/Hobbit mashup. I think I might actually make a slightly bigger, cleaned-up version of this for an actual design in my shop, but until then: