Everybody Gets Paid Except My Credit Card

So BZ dropped it down two keys. Now I can actually sing the damn thing.

Next, add the BGVs.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you turn a Suno song into a human song.

Suno gets their ten bucks a month. Session players get paid. Recording studios get paid. Everybody gets a piece of the pie.

One big happy dysfunctional musical family.

Compromise, by Elvis Nash.

I’m an equal-opportunity person. No bias from either side of the fence. I’ll even go as far as saying no racism. We all have to get along.

I’ll still have to bribe the wife so she doesn’t bother me while I’m working on music. I can smell an Amazon order from her coming a mile away.

“That’s fine, honey. Push the button.”

Amazon: “Would you like something else with this order?”

DON’T ASK HER THAT.

Hell, I could use some barbed wire. I need to fence in the 3,000 acres I don’t own.

Send me a book on positive thinking that’ll never work. A cookbook I’ll never use. A travel guide to France even though I’m never going there.

And while you’re at it, please delete the 5,000 expired credit cards Amazon still thinks belong to me.

“Hurry! Only 100 left in stock!”

You’re a liar, Joe. There are 9,000 of them sitting in a warehouse somewhere.

Can I buy some Valium?

“Nope. It’s addictive.”

Great. We want you stressed out, miserable, and dying healthy.

Well, okay.

Now back to the music.

It’ll take me about four days to really learn the song and maybe two hours in the studio to knock out the vocal. Gavin, the studio owner, will already be paid by Zelle before I get there.

Then I’ve got about an hour’s drive, winding through Lower Lake and Kelseyville.

Beautiful country up here. Mountains, trees, Clear Lake, winding roads—and damn near zero traffic jams.

That’s not a bad commute to go make some music.

Suno got its ten bucks.
The musicians got paid.
The studio got paid.
The wife got Amazon.

And Elvis Nash got a song he can actually sing.

Everybody wins.

Except my credit card.