Sockpuppet Releases.

Back in the late 90s I had a quite vivid dream about an impossible love that could not exist, and I wrote the first version of the lyrics for this song, and had a vague idea for the chords.

In either late December 2000 or early January 2001, I was visiting my parents during winter break from grad school and noticed that a bunch of my favorite webcomics were all part of what was called the Dumbrella collective. I decided to poke around on the main Dumbrella website, and I noticed a thing on it called “Song Fight!,” which was a songwriting contest where the person running it, Narbotic, would invite his friends to make songs for a single title, as a continuation from his own website where he’d take random title suggestions and make weird little songs for them.

There was also an announcement that the next title, Zero to Phantom, would be open to anyone to submit to the title.

I had absolutely no ideas for it.

But the next title to go up, I LOVE YOU, reminded me of the song I’d written a few years before, and I decided to dust it off. I figured that it’d make a perfect guitar song.

The problem is, I only barely knew a couple of chords, and I didn’t have a guitar. At this point nearly all of my music production had been weird chiptunes.

So I went to a pawn shop and paid too much for some broken and dusty piece of crap, and figured out a few more chords, and I didn’t have a pick so I sanded down a chunk of a broken CD-R to make one, and I tried to record the song.

Unfortunately, I did not know how to actually record live audio, and I didn’t have the finger strength or stamina to even play through the whole song anyway.

So, I sampled all of the chords I knew and a couple of little riffs, loaded them up into Impulse Tracker, and tried sequencing the chords together. Then I recorded my vocals and chopped them up into samples and loaded them up into Impulse Tracker too, and then kinda-sorta assembled things together.

At the time, I didn’t know how to sing, either. I also hadn’t worked out the rhythm of the vocals and just kind of figured it out as I went.

The song was an absolute mess. But I submitted it to Song Fight! anyway, and the reaction was… adequate enough that it inspired me to keep going, and this started my process of slowly building up a bunch of skills for songwriting, guitar playing, recording, singing, and so much more.

This isn’t the first song I ever wrote, but it is ultimately the one that started me on my journey as a musician.

When Song Fight! posted the title “Repair My Heart,” I had just bought a CD-R of “royalty-free” loops (of extremely dubious origin) which came with a whole bunch of interesting beats and instrument one-shots. In particular there was a fun jungle beat which sounded like an off-kilter heartbeat to me.

So, I made a lo-fi jungle-ish track for my second Song Fight! entry.

There’s a long-running debate within Song Fight! about the legitimacy of instrumental tracks; one of the prevailing beliefs is that there’s nothing that ties an instrumental to the title, and what stops someone from entering an instrumental song for any given title, and then later entering it again for another title?

So I am quite pleased that Frankie Big Face, who was at one time one of the staunchest advocates of that above line of thinking, held up my Repair My Heart as a rare exception to that, an instrumental which could only work with that title.

Anyway, here it is as a jazz ensemble.

This was my third Song Fight! entry, and I was finally starting to get at least a semblance of a recording setup. At this point I’d bought a cheap 4-track tape deck and actually played the guitar part all the way through and sang everything each in one take.

It was still pretty awful and I was still learning how to do basically anything with acoustic recordings. But I was getting somewhere with it, at least.

In 2006 I started the Plus 5 project, where I decided to re-record all of my first-year Song Fight! entries on the fifth anniversary of their original due dates. I LOVE YOU and Repair My Heart both came out reasonably well (and those new versions were the conceptual basis for the versions on this album), but Shipwreck still came out pretty badly, and I started to think that the song itself was cursed.

For this album, I originally started out trying to do a better job of the Plus 5 version, but it still just plain wasn’t working. I was starting to wonder if I even wanted this song on this album to begin with, and like it was just irredeemably bad and not worth trying to save.

But then I had a realization: there’s nothing that says I had to stick to my plan from 2006. It’s my song, and my choice for how to do things, right?

So I changed the arrangement significantly, and decided to lean fully into the idea that it’s a song about desperate isolation.

I think it works.

I was going through some shit.

I’m better now.

On the (sadly long-gone) original Song Fight! forum thread for this song, someone mentioned “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown),” which was one of my favorite Beatles songs at the time, so of course I had to put a couple of references to it in the lyrics.

While this song is vaguely inspired by something my mom once said about a childhood pet bird, as well as some of the continuing aftermath of the messy breakup that inspired a few of my early Song Fight! songs, it is basically complete fiction. (And for what it’s worth, that ex and I have long since reconciled and are friends again.)

The evolution of this song is pretty typical: It started out as lo-fi jazz, then it became punk rock, and now it’s a baroque-esque string quartet. Y'know, a totally normal trajectory that all music follows.

I wrote this song in response to a well-meaning but clueless friend who saw I was suffering and would tell me I should “just cheer up.”

“Just cheer up” won’t make me less depressed.

“Just cheer up” won’t solve my anxiety.

“Just cheer up” won’t fix my chronic pain.

“Just cheer up” won’t take away my stressors.

“Just cheer up” won’t stop the world from hating me just for being me.

Fuck toxic positivity.

Anyway I think it was pretty bold of me to rhyme “up” with “up.” Those are the kinds of innovative lyrical ideas that normally only come with decades of experience.

I took a bit of a break from Song Fight!, because I was getting frustrated both with some of the aspects of the community, but also with how my missteps kept on causing me to activate interpersonal landmines.

I was trying so hard to be helpful but never stopped to think whether what I was doing was actually helpful.

And at the same time I had a lot of insecurity about my skills as a musician.

And at the same time I was still trying to figure out what I wanted to do in terms of gender and transition and so on, and I was getting very little support from most of the people around me, especially folks in Song Fight!.

The term “nonbinary” didn’t exist as far as I’m aware in 2003, but that’s what part of this song is about: not feeling like I fit in to either category, and needing to be happy with just being me.

Back in 2003, when this song was originally written, it was considered “okay” and “funny” to dox and harass trans people. And if it happened to someone, clearly it was their fault for being trans and not being 100% perfect at keeping their private information private.

Ask me how I know.

In the midst of getting dozens of harassing phone calls, random evangelists being sent to my door hearing I’d “found Jesus,” and being added to dozens of religious mailing lists, I was, as you might expect, pretty tired and grumpy.

And the people around me thought it was just a joke, or my fault for being trans. What could I expect from society, because of this “choice” I “made?”

And meanwhile, being largely in the closet in person, I couldn’t even share that this was going on with most people around me. They could see that I was stressed, but as usual, leaned hard on toxic positivity nonsense, telling me that I needed to cheer up and that things weren’t so bad.

Sometimes you just need to wallow and hide, and sometimes it’s okay to tell people to fuck right off, especially when they refuse to get it.

The original version of this song was a lot angrier, and also only had three chords. It was one of the first songs to be selected for remixing on Remix Fight (a long-gone side project from a bunch of Song Fight! people), and I was fortunate enough to have the song be remixed by Victor “fourstones” Stone, who would later go on to found ccMixter. I had actually forgotten all about that until a few days before I started on this track (and had no idea how I was going to handle this song) and his remix came up in my playlist, and one of the changes he made to the chord progression gave me the inspiration I needed to complete my new arrangement.

So, thank you, Victor, wherever you are.

He was an openly gay man in his 50s. I was a mostly-closeted trans gal in my 20s. I was open to him. He was supportive.

He claimed he’d had a hard life, and had many stories to tell. Most of them reeked of bullshit to me. I’m not sure how much was true.

He’d become infatuated with me, and wanted to talk up my “brilliant mind.” I always felt like he was trying to coerce me into a relationship with him.

He would often send me letters to this effect.

This song isn’t about what happened between us, but it was certainly inspired by it.

I don’t know what’s become of him. We did briefly cross paths in a YouTube comment thread, of all the odd places, and I invited him to reconnect, but nothing happened from that.

I hope he’s doing well and that he’s found the love that he needs.

It was August 2004. I had just moved to New York City in July, and I had dreams of establishing myself as a musician and also finally transitioning and being able to be myself.

Turns out that “myself” is still just super introverted and socially anxious, and places like New York wear me down faster than they build me up.

Anyway the bit about “start a new family” was inspired by a stupid cishet-normative ad for life insurance that was plastered all over the subway at the time, about a mediocre man wanting to start a family and have two kids. In my take on it in the lyrics I never actually specify which part of the family I’d be taking, and I like to think that I’m just some sort of random factor that leads to a family being started without any continuing involvement of my own. Or maybe I’m the family pet. Who knows. This song is about random nerve firings that were going through my brain while sitting lonely on the subway and feeling isolated, and not about my actual aspirations.

This song always sort of felt like it would be the pivotal moment in a semi-fictional musical about my life, and I guess that in the end, that’s kind of what this album as a whole is.

This song would also be the second-to-last Song Fight! song I entered under the “band” name “fluffy porcupine.”

New York was, also, not the place for me, and a few months after first recording Run Faster (which was about my job situation in New York), I would end up moving to Seattle, and it was time to reinvent myself again. I experimented with a few different band names before finally settling on “Sockpuppet,” a reference to how many other names I’d been operating under, and how I am one person presenting myself as an entire ensemble.

In effect, this song marked the ending of one chapter in my life, and the beginning of the next. But my story is still being written, at least for now.

If The Supper Club was a love letter to Song Fight!, this one’s a Dear John.

In 2024, Song Fight! Live finally came back as an in-person event, after several years away due to the COVID-19 pandemic. When I arrived in Denver, though, I felt like I was only there out of obligation, and over the course of the next few days I felt like maybe I was done with Song Fight! for so many reasons. The community was a great way for me to get started as a songwriter, but it was starting to feel like I needed to pull back a bit and not be so emotionally-invested in it.

Over the next few days I had several good conversations with close friends in the community. They didn’t make me feel much better about Song Fight! itself (and in fact helped me to put words to some of the specific things I was feeling particularly bad about), but they did make me feel better about thinking it was time for me to move on.

I so was burned out and so frustrated at this thing that had been so important to me for so long, over half of my life at this point. The other music I’d been doing – small solo performances and scoring for video games and short films – was making me much happier than this ongoing thing, this community that used to bring me such joy.

So for the live fight title of “Valley Highway,” I decided to write a swan song.

But being up on stage, performing with friends, getting the reactions from folks about how much I’ve grown over the years and how much better we’ve all become for having participated in this ridiculous thing for so long? I started to feel a lot better.

I’m still not sure I want to be quite so involved in Song Fight! anymore, but at least I feel good about the time I’ve spent with it, and it’ll probably always be there for me when I need it.

Song Fight! has been so important to me, but it’s okay to move on.