Paranoid in Paradise

Photo By Scott E. Schwimer

MM: My late husband, Howard, was a very functional stoner. His presence was so calming, and I felt so comfortable when we were together that I decided to try again. He asked me if I was sure before handing me his joint. I took one puff and started hacking. I knew that was a bad sign. Howard spent the next few hours trying to convince me that he wasn’t plotting to kill me. When I eventually smacked half of a Xanax out of his hand, insisting that it was poison, he gave up and went to sleep. As he snored, I eventually snapped out of it and dozed off myself.

MM: The next day, the first verse and chorus of “Paranoid in Paradise” poured out in about five minutes! Howard and I both thought it was fun, catchy, and probably relatable to a lot of people. I assumed I’d finish it eventually and put it on the pile with dozens of other half-complete songs.

After his passing about a year later, as my album for Howard was taking shape, I realized that Side A was about our long-distance courtship through our engagement. I included “Paranoid in Paradise” because the silly little song played an integral part in the narrative of our love story. We would travel to the ends of the earth for each other – and we practically did.

And even when we fell short, it was still OK. We loved each other unconditionally.

Photo By Scott E. Schwimer

MM: Many tears were shed during those compositions. Side B of this album is the most difficult group of songs I’ve ever written and produced. But the joy of Side A was not without pain, too, and in a way, it was even harder on me.

Every time I felt a breakthrough with one of these happy songs, I instinctively wanted to share it with Howard. The realization that he was not alive to hear it would shatter that joy. It was this brutal slingshot between pure elation and complete devastation—back and forth.

MM: I wanted this song to sound very organic, setting the listener up for a big twist at the bridge. My chord progression turned out to be the same as Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On”, so I leaned in. That track sounds kind of like everyone is playing their own song—the sax, strings, piano, and guitar all meander, yet they all fit together and support the vocal. That’s the direction I gave to my band, and they executed it flawlessly.

Photo By Scott E. Schwimer

MM: I’m becoming aware that every vocal I record is a risk. On my first album in 2008, I was compared to a drunken Cookie Monster in one review. I had just started taking vocal lessons while recording that album because my previous bands kept breaking up, and I decided to become a vocalist at 27, having never sung before.

The past 17 years have been a journey to improve my voice and become able to express the emotion in my songs adequately. I finally feel like I’m in a good place.

It’s all a journey, and I’m grateful for the encouraging feedback I receive today—especially from my Patreon patrons. I wear their positivity like armor as I walk the most vulnerable work of my life out into the world.

MM: Seeing people smiling and laughing as I sing about Howard and me getting into shenanigans is healing. When loved ones pass, we have a tendency to canonize them. It’s understandable, but we have to be careful not to reduce their complexity in the process.

Howard was a riot and loved getting into trouble, saying shocking things, and stirring the proverbial pot. He was so fun to be around, and he was so much larger than life. I love that this song introduces some of that to listeners. People come up to me after shows and say they wish they knew Howard, but they feel like they know him a little bit through my songs, and that means everything to me.

MM: He would laugh! And he would say, “Yeah, babe, weed is just not for you.”

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