Visit the homepage of his new book for information on how to download a copy for yourself, and check out COVER STORIES for ten of his original euphictions.

The following stories are from the book (some alternate versions to the ones in print):

“UNTITLED TRACK 005 – GENRE UNKNOWN”

“UNTITLED TRACK 007 – GENRE UNKNOWN”

“UNTITLED TRACK 008 – GENRE UNKNOWN”

“UNTITLED TRACK 009 – GENRE UNKNOWN”

“UNTITLED TRACK 010 – GENRE UNKNOWN”

There’s also a whole show devoted to six original euphictions that were featured here in 2010 (“SIX EUPHICTIONS featuring the music of NEST”).

And last but not least is the final podcast of the regular series, “FIVE CHRISTMAS EUPHICTIONS,” written by half of the COVER STORIES writers especially for this website and the 2010 holiday.

(And, though they’re not euphictions, there is a groovy Hallowe’en episode also featuring stories by some of your favorite Cover Writers.)

Go for the euphiction, download the rest of the series and bonus material.

I’ve never been a religious person. I suppose the best way to describe my opinion on the greater mysteries of the Universe is that I believe everything is energy. Whether positive or negative, whether manipulated or left unfettered, everything is energy. Not unlike George Lucas’ concept of the Force I suppose, albeit slightly remiss of most of the mysticism. Because of that, deities never sat well with me.

However, I’ve always been fascinated with the Native American idea of totem spirits. The notion of a singular consciousness that represents a particular feeling or abstract concept always struck me as a really romantic way to view the world.

In my writing I’ve taken that concept even further by imaging what conversations with those totem spirits might sound like. In truth, totem spirits have been making their way into my work for many years now.

Let me preface this by saying this is purely fictional. At no point have I ever thought I was seeing spectral animals doling out words of wisdom. If that were the case they would have had to lock me up a long time ago. Years ago a woman I was dating read one of my stories out of context and thought one of my friends was trash-talking her behind her back. She couldn’t accept that it was a work of fiction although for some reason she didn’t seem to bristle at the fact that I thought he was a bear. But I digress.

Ursal the Bear, Bringer of Wisdom and Tallis the Wolf, Bringer of Courage both graced the pages of my Cover Stories. I had a rough draft that featured Istaqa the Coyote, Bringer of Patience but that story was cut in favor of another choice.

These totem spirit tales usually wind up springing from something I have difficulty rationalizing about. In both cases these stories related to women. Dating Advice dealt with a little freakout I had when a woman I had a couple of really great dates with appeared to be blowing me off. And Let Your Mouth Tell The Story was my way of grappling with the difficult task of kissing a woman for the first time.

As I stated in the story, I’ve always had a difficult time identifying exactly when the right time is to kiss a woman. Don’t get me wrong, I can hold my own with everything else both before and after, but zeroing in on that exact moment has always been like trying to hit a moving target to me.

Interestingly enough the events in real life unfolded almost exactly as they did in the story with the obvious exception of the conversation with the spectral wolf in the middle of the bar and his lurking under a streetlight at the end of the story. In and of itself I think the story was somewhat bland but the addition of Tallis and his accompanying mysticism and gentle support turned it into something unique and gave it a life of its own.

With the framework of the actual date, the story practically wrote itself. Even his advice seemed like something a totem spirit would say. It was sage advice in the truest sense of the words. I look forward to seeing what advice he has for me in the future and what kind of stories spring from it.

Things didn’t work out between me and our heroine. We dated for a few months but things just sort of fizzled and I haven’t spoken to her since then as I don’t make it a habit of remaining friends with my exes. I have no idea if she has read Cover Stories or not but if so, she should recognize herself instantly. And if she has, does she now bristle at the thought of a potential wolf lurking behind her the first time we kissed?

I will likely never know, but I imagine Tallis would say that it doesn’t matter. That story has already been told…

So without further adieu…

Ray Lamontagne – Crazy (Gnarls Barkley Original) – I really love this tune by Gnarls Barkley and Lamontagne’s interpretation is just perfect if you’re a fan of his work. The mellow acoustic guitar combined with his raspy, smokey voice lends a completely different feel to this song.

Red – Ordinary World (Duran Duran Original) – I will admit right off the bat, I am not a fan of Red as their Christian rock proclivities do not jive well with my view of the universe. However this new take on Duran Duran’s Ordinary World is a hodgepodge of hard, alternative rock and post-grunge, which breathes new life into it.

Various Artists – Jamming: A Bluegrass Tribute to Bob Marley - This is a full album and not an individual song but needs to be experienced as a whole. I’ve only recently started listening to bluegrass with anything more than a passing interest, but I’ve been a huge Bob Marley fan for as long as I can remember. You wouldn’t think that reggae would lend itself well to the bluegrass sound but it does so surprisingly well. Waiting in Vain, one of my all-time favorite Marley songs, turns out to be an amazing tune in bluegrass format and the entire album is worth multiple listens.

Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins (feat. Ben Gibbard, Conor Oberst & M. Ward) – Handle with Care (Travelling Wilburys Original) – Yes that’s a lot of names, but they’re covering a band with a lot of names in it to begin with so it kind of fits. Handle with Care is an iconic classic rock song and I’m glad Lewis and crew didn’t change it up too much.

Donavon Frankenreiter – Theologians (Wilco Original) – Donavon Frankenreiter brings his traditional surf-rock feel to an already great song by Wilco. As usual, Donavon applies his signature style and gives it a significantly mellower feel than the original. It totally evokes images of oceans and beaches and sandy campfires at sunset which, if you really listen to the lyrics, is probably something much different than what Wilco originally intended.

Various Artists – 50 First Dates Motion Picture Soundtrack – Another full album. Whether you’ve seen the movie or not, this is just a flat-out fun album that contains lots of artists doing reggae covers of 80′s songs. My favorite track is the Ziggy Marley cover of Drive, originally recorded by the Cars. It’s a surprisingly good album especially given the fact that it’s a film soundtrack.

M. Ward – Let’s Dance (David Bowie Original) – Another extremely mellow cover of an otherwise upbeat song, M. Ward takes one of Bowie’s classic 80′s hits, removes all the adrenaline and applies his uniquely quiet voice to this tune which gives it an almost sad feeling.

Gary Jules w/Michael Andrews - Mad World (Tears for Fears Original) – Anyone who’s seen the film Donnie Darko should recall this song as the score to the ending montage. Perhaps it’s because of that association or perhaps it’s the acoustic piano and Jules’ unique voice, but this is just a raw and hauntingly beautiful song and I feel this version has much more of an impact on the listener than the original.

Whiskeytown – Dreams (Fleetwood Mac Original) – Whiskeytown did a really good job of retaining the soul and feel of the original song while still making it their own. It simultaneously comes across as both an old classic rock song and a recent composition.

Smashing Pumpkins – Landslide (Fleetwood Mac Original) – Another Fleetwood Mac cover, there is not much to differentiate this song from the original other than Billy Corrigan’s voice which is more than enough. However, like the previously mentioned Travelling Wilburys song, it came across as more of a tribute than a remake. For a time this was one of my favorite songs… until the Dixie Chicks took a dump all over it by covering it as well. And I realize I have no right to be a music snob because I admittedly like some pretty horrible stuff, but I draw the line at that kind of garbage.

Bonus!!!

Northern Kings – I originally had 10 covers lined up for this article, but I HAD to add a bonus. For those not familiar with the Northern Kings they are a symphonic-metal supergroup from Finland that almost exclusively covers 80′s and early 90s songs. They were formed by already-famous finnish musicians, most notably Marco Heitala from Nightwish. These guys come across as pretty ridiculous but that is a part of their charm and I absolutely love their stuff (which is duly interesting because I’m not the biggest fan of metal).

Their first song was a cover of Tina Turner’s “We Don’t Need Another Hero.” In and of itself this is a pretty cool cover. However, once you see the music video which consists of the band members in top-hats and tuxedoes singing and over-emoting in an old candlelit library which has been placed at the top of a snowy remote mountain, it adds to the effect.. Now throw in the fact that the lyrics which deal specifically with the Thunderdome really don’t make any sense (unless they’re taken in the context of the accompanying 80′s post-apocalyptic Mel Gibson film for which the song was written). Put it all together and it’s a formula for something insanely ridiculous but it’s almost as if they understand that and embrace it. The end result is just something so out there that it reels you in..

But don’t take my word for it. See for yourself:

Do a youtube search for Northern Kings to see what I mean and you’ll come up with their covers of almost everything from Bon Jovi to Lionel Ritchie, to Seal to Ah-Ha to Journey and many more.

So there are some of my favorite covers. Now I want to hear from you! Don’t be shy, leave a comment with some of yours and let’s spurn some earnest discussion!

-A.C. Noia-

*** Crossposted to themediajunkie.wordpress.com ***

It was standard practice to stack the largest radio you could carry into the amphitheater that was your garage. Music poured into the streets. Classic rock. Disco. Jazz. Alternative. A cacophony of sound melded with the green leaves that rustled in the hot wind.
Best of all? That music was free. Free for the world to hear and to experience. It brought people together when your neighbor blasted AC/DC, The Trammps, or Barry White. I didn’t even know half of the bands that echoed across the blacktop but I could recognize a song by the few distorted beats that poured out from the open windows of a passing Mustang.

The Eighties rushed in and with that, music set to video took off. MTV actually had music in their lineup, 24/7. Glam and glitz were the game. Flash came before dance. Music now was visually adorned with skinny ties, and pastel colors as mullet laden notes fluttered across our televisions. Still, we gathered in groups to watch the premiere of Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Peter Gabriel launched So to millions of viewers and who can ever forget Headbangers Ball?

Then the medium of music changed again and, quite possibly, not for he better. Fast forward to 2001. The new epoch was marked by a small invention with an internal drive that stored both video and audio – the iPod. Personal storage for the personal you. Every song you loved was there for 99 cents. Better yet? The package came with gaudy-white ear buds that screamed ‘privacy’. Now you could walk the mall, super market, library, attend a funeral or even bake a cake all to a plethora of hand picked music from your favorite bands. Eye contact was now a privilege not a right. You could hide behind Dizzy Up the Girl or head bob to Dookie, but no one need know your dirty secret love even if it was Backstreet Boys.

It’s a shame really. Music, once the free gift of the airways, is now relegated to the suit it must wear. Gone are the days of how you were defined by the music that resounded from your bedroom. Now you are categorized not only by device type, but also by its exclusivity. Ear buds are used as shields. You don’t need to interact. You could be head bobbing to Metallica or a podiatrists’ podcast. The real crime is that your music can’t be heard. Music often links us together in commonality. Now we’re link solely by the color of our headphones. Human interaction is discouraged.

For that, I feel iSad.

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I click my special, weatherproof in-ear headphones deep into the core of my ears. They won’t slip, move or let any of that house noise interfere with my mission. Like a guitarist snapping into his amp, I hook into my iPod with an audible snap. I can feel the clicks of the wheel under my fingers as I search through thousands of songs. It has to be here. Something. Like a diabetic at a Dunkin’ Donuts convention, I gloss over each song, each playlist like a tantalizing confection.

Do I want a mash up? Two or more familiar songs ‘mashed’ together to make a whole new song. Do I stop at Metal Mental Madness and delve into the Devil’s anthems? Or is it a time for nice and easy with my All Acoustic playlist? No. None of these. I keep searching. My playlists were all built to evoke specific feelings which lead to specific writing. Through each list, I can find a nugget.

A loner just getting off the bus in a middle of nowhere – Boom, Like That by Mark Knopfler. A final showdown on a dust ridden street between the maniacal six-gun killing machine and the one armed sheriff who is down to his last bullet and drawing with a bad hand – The Musical Pocket Watch by Ennio Morricone. An evil presence in Dark City’s church is about to spread her wings and thus spread her vampirism – Preludim by Theatres Des Vampires.

I always stop myself and drink in the elixir of music and its collaboration with my writing. It is an art form and a structure of expression that most in the world take for granted. It is communication, not only on the literal level but on a spiritual level. Some of the most moving pieces don’t even have lyrics to motivate your thoughts. These are treasures to a writer. Centuries of expression flowing over airwaves and captured with bending light and mathematical algorithm all to move your soul. I am addicted. Words begin to fly. Paragraphs turn into pages. Books are completed. Contest deadlines are not only met on time but they are virtually body slammed – All with the right music.

Online, one can find a musical playground. Sites on the web totally devoted to feeding your muse.
Tonight, I need to get inside the mind of a young woman who is a societal outcast through no fault of her own. Plug in the appropriate genre and there you have it – Cracks of Light by Titanium Black. I can see her suffering, her embarrassment, her anger and her vulnerability. The words hit the page. Later she suffers through fits of loneliness – Run to The Hills by Hellsongs, a deadly acoustic version of a heavy metal classic. I relive the ache of the youthful angst that I thought was behind me.

My character’s confidence is slowly built back to the point where she is ready to bare her teeth, literally, to the world – Down On the Borderline by AC/DC. Raw crunch ushers in the storm of a loose cannon, strutting like a peacock daring you to cross the line.
As the smoldering ruins cascade their smoke over the carnage like a thin sheet being pulled over the face of a beloved deceased, the girl realizes she has had a personal loss tantamount to losing her own life – Epilogue (The Missing Link) by Daisuke Ishiwatari haunts the corners of my mind. Black emotion sweeps through the pages, drifting through each loss like an unanchored ship.

The room is still dark. I feel the words slowing in my head. Fatigue is telling me that there is tomorrow. The Man Comes Around by Johnny Cash is pulsing in my ears. It’s a song about finality. It isn’t for the feint of heart. The words on the page take my character to her final resting place. I quickly switch over to Palladio by Escala. It has stride. It has purpose. Maybe this isn’t the final chapter. Maybe, just maybe there will always be a purpose. We all have a purpose. Just like music.

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When Derek first approached me to write some stories for him, I have to say I was intrigued by the concept. For me, music and words have always gone together. I love learning the words to songs (I can even sing along to It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)) and if the song tells a story then that’s all to the good.

Similarly, if a story is told lyrically then it really helps it move for me. Although, strangely enough, I really can’t get a handle on poetry. Especially the older pre-twentieth century stuff. Let me tell you, not being able to ‘do’ poetry made my English degree quite difficult at times. Well, as difficult as a degree in which I wrote my final dissertation on post-modern comic books can be.

I have written for most of my life. And, there have been several attempts at what I guess you call ‘euphiction’. The first one that I really remember was a play I started (but never finished – which is probably a good thing) based on Bohemian Rhapsody. I don’t remember a lot about it, although I think it was about a guy called ‘Galileo Figaro’ who had a girlfriend called ‘Miss Miller’. And it was almost undoubtedly better than ‘We Will Rock You’.

Somewhat more successful, is a story, that you can read on my website, called I Wish I Could Be Like. It’s based on David Watts - specifically the version by The Jam rather than The Kinks) and was the first thing I ever (nearly) got published. It was accepted for publication by a magazine that then almost immediately went under. Which was slightly annoying.
My publishing career has been almost as sparkling as that attempt. I have written two novels (and nearly finished a third!) and several short stories – most of the latter are available from the afore-linked website. I have self-published the first novel, called The Long Sleep and it is also available from the website, both as a hardcopy and as a free ebook in epub, mobi and pdf formats.

My second book, Down Among The Yla is currently being read by a publisher and I have hopes – although I refuse to let them get too high, because that way lays madness and murderous rampages. And I don’t really wanna do that.

Anyway, I’ll try and do a couple more posts this week. And they will undoubtedly be as disjointed and unfocussed as this one. But, that’s just the way my brain works. Don’t worry. Next week, one of my co-writers (is that the right word?) in this endeavour will be here and it’ll undoubtedly be far more interesting.

Background

Not that I have a set process when it comes to writing euphiction, but the method that I’ve deployed most often goes like this: I come up with a line, idea or scene in my head and then I try to match it up with a song and let the title and/or tone of the song to give it direction. Some times those ideas are older, but in the case of this story, it was a new one.

The last time I was in the States was in 2009 and I had brought my now-wife with me for the first time to see Florida. On our first or second night in Daytona we went to a restaurant with my sisters Tara and Erin and brother-in-law Kurt. The place had changed hands since the last time I was home and was completely different from what it had been. Kurt was working for the food supply company that serviced the restaurant and had a good relationship with the owner of the place. We were given the royal treatment and we settled outside on the terrace with enormous cocktails to get the evening started right.

As we were drinking, catching up and plotting the course for the night ahead and guy sat down at the keyboard under the awning and started to play. I looked over and if you’ve read the story you’ll guess what I am about to say – the dude looked exactly like George W. Bush. I point this out and along with the gigantic drinks the resemblance gave us all the giggles. I thought to myself, I have to use this in a story sometime.

It wasn’t too long after we got back to Poland that Christian had proposed the idea of Cover Stories. When I officially took on Blackberry Belle as my album for the project, this song in particular gave me some trouble. What, exactly, was “Fat City” going to be to me and how was I going to use the (Slight Return) in the story? In the song I believe that Fat City is New Orleans and the (Slight Return) was there because an earlier version of the song was included on the album Dust by DJ Muggs.

I decided, and I don’t quite remember how, that Fat City was going to be a bar and the slight return would be that the protagonist would be going there for the first time in long time. I had the GWB as piano man set piece ready to go, and now it was a matter of where to take it. The dialogue came easy and I had a good time with the history of the bar. But how to wrap it up?

The ending was influenced, strangely enough, by the second Jason Bourne movie. In that film, if you’ll recall, all the action and violence led up to the climax which was… an apology. Remembering that struck a chord and I liked how it worked in the story.

Mini Dedication

This one is going out to my sister Tara whom I miss being able to hang out and shoot the breeze with over beers. To Kurt for all the booze and Erin for making sure that we all get home safe.

I started going to Vinyl Fever shortly after moving to Tampa in 1990 and it quickly became a favorite haunt. I wasn’t there looking for vinyl at the time – I was strictly a CD guy and even now I wouldn’t consider myself a vinyl snob. I didn’t pick up the vinyl bug until I started working there in late 1999.

Vinyl Fever was a new/used place and people were constantly bringing in old records and CDs for sale. Often the customer would just leave behind whatever wasn’t bought back. One time a copy of Alice Cooper’s Killer in decent shape was abandoned and I asked if I could take it. A shrug of the shoulders and the end of my shift later, I dropped the needle on an album that was mine for the first time in who knows when.

From there, I started collecting (mainly) old heavy metal records, many of which I had on cassette back in high school. A lot of what I was picking up was between $.99 and $2.99 but this was also at the rise of eBay and I did drop some money on a few sweet pieces, like Monster Magnet’s Superjudge (on red vinyl!). I was still buying new stuff on CD but now there was this extra layer of fun to be had by flipping through the stacks looking for Metallica, Queensryche or Motley Crue lps. One more reason to go visit Vinyl Fever after I left there to take an editing job.

A few months ago, I got emails from friends back in Tampa alerting me to the fact that VF was closing its doors for good, after 30 years in business. And I’ll tell you – my heart was broken. There are a lot of things that those of us who choose to live abroad give up or miss out on. But I thought I’d always have the Fever to go to every few years when I went to the States to visit. It was sad to think that I had already been there for the last time and that I wouldn’t get a chance to see the old girl off.

When I moved to Poland, I didn’t bring any of my vinyl with me. I was only going to be here a year I thought, and it didn’t make sense to pack it all up and drag it to another continent. Nearly seven years later, and here I was with no old vinyl and no new vinyl. So I went to the one new/used record place that I know of in Wroclaw and flipped through the stacks. I didn’t buy anything that day, but it felt therapeutic. And finally it looks like at least part of my collection will be sent over, to go along with the handful of new lps that I have bought in the last few weeks. And I have to say, 1965 by the Afghan Whigs on 180 gram vinyl sounds sweet.

RIP Vinyl Fever.

Background

For the first three years or so that I was in Wroclaw, it was almost like being back in college. I was living in a dorm room and most of my time was split between getting ready for classes, hanging out and getting over hangovers. The big difference was instead of sitting at the back of the class for 16 hours, I was standing in front of it for 18. That and I actually had some money. It was like magic.

In those days we had a “starter bar” in the Guinness Pub. You could show up there after 9 and by 10 someone else you knew would be there. On any given Thursday, Friday or Saturday, there’d be a healthy contingent of ex-pats at G (as we called it) enjoying the pleasures of Poland. Of course the equation of friends plus beer equals a fair amount of grief being given. And the one who got the most was Thomas Ostergaard, otherwise known as Danish.

Why, you may ask? Mostly he just opened himself up to it. Plus he was always, always late. And it’s easy to blame things on someone who isn’t there to defend himself. “Blame Danish” was thrown around now and again. Much like the protagonist in our story:

Towards the end of the night as the crowd was thinning out, Neil turned to get his cigarettes, hit his elbow on the bar and dropped his beer. The bottle exploded on the hardwood floor just as Red walked back to the bar from putting money in the jukebox. Collectively, we looked from the shattered bottle up to Red. His gaze turned from the broken glass to us and said, “I know, I know! Blame Red!”

Yes, Danish was the first one to say it. Not in the way it happened in the story, but he could blame himself for that.

This is another story rescued from the orphan pile. I had written out the basic idea a few years earlier, called it “We Had No One To Blame But Ourselves” and then had no idea what to do with it. Then, while listening to Blackberry Belle, this line from “Feathers” stood out:

“I’m untethered/Waving in the wind like feathers.”

I got a mental picture of a room in chaos from an unhinged mind, seized upon “We Had” and finished it up as “Feathers.”

Mini Dedication

Who else? This one’s for you Danish!