Decorating Time

“Art is how we decorate space; music is how we decorate time.”

One of my favorite quotes about music was supposedly spoken by artist Jean-Michel Basquiat: “Art is how we decorate space; music is how we decorate time.” Did Basquiat actually say this? I’m not sure. But it doesn’t really matter. The content of the quote is so powerful that the mind behind it is beside the point.

One of the key tenants of this newsletter is understanding how we decorate time, how we make music. Today, I want to break down that process with “Late Nite Kicks”, a new song that I just put out. Whether you’re a fan of the music that I make or not, it should provide some insight into how the musical process works. As always, this newsletter is also available as a podcast. Listen on Spotify and Apple Podcasts or click play at the top of this page.

“Late Nite Kicks” started with a text to Ken De Poto. That’s how a lot of my songs have started recently. Ken and I met a few years ago playing raucous punk music in a band fronted by my cousin, John Cozz. When we had some free time outside of that group, we started to make some tunes together.

Chris: What do you think of this?

[Sends 5-second voice memo]

Ken: It’s good. But shouldn’t you be spending time with your girlfriend’s family?

Ken posed a good question. It was late December, and I was visiting my girlfriend’s family in Arizona. But while I was in the shower, I was toying with a lyric: “Put on your late night kicks / To come and dance with me.” Having forgotten too many good ideas over the years, I stole away for a moment and shot Ken the text.

When I got back to New Jersey around Christmas, I picked up my guitar and started messing with that lyric again. A nearly-complete chorus emerged almost as quickly as the initial lyric did in the shower. These processes were very different, though. If songwriting falls on a spectrum between mystical and mundane, then finding the initial lyric was more in the mystical sphere. I have no idea where it came from. Turning that lyric into a chorus was much more mundane. It was just banging on the guitar until something worked.

I wasn’t done, though. I had a recording session booked with Max Rauch at Domestic Bliss Studios on January 5. Ken would also be at the session. I had about a week to figure out what we were going to be working on, so I kept plugging away at this “late night kicks” song. I knew the chorus was mostly there, so I tried to freestyle some lyrics for the verse.

Well, I’m standing 'neath the streetlight
And I’m calling your name
Cause there’s a thunder on the east side
And I’m going insane

You always kill me with your blank stare
Can you give me a sign?
Falling in love can be unfair
I guess that’s alright

I had my qualms with some of those images, but they were good enough to keep things moving. And that’s important. Over the years, I’ve found that the only way to finish a song is to keep pushing along even if you’re not completely satisfied. You can worry about the details on the second draft. Still, I had a problem.

Both the verse and the chorus of this song were built around three chords: C, G, and F. There’s nothing inherently wrong with writing a song that only uses three chords. Nonetheless, a song can get boring if you just bash the same chords over-and-over. I thought a pre-chorus might break up the monotony.

Structurally, this pre-chorus works. It does indeed break up the verse and the chorus. But this specific pre-chorus does not work. And I knew it right away. I also knew why I couldn’t come up with something better.

I thought I was being lazy using the same three chords across the verse and the chorus. Again, this is not inherently lazy. Tons of classics bang on the same chords from beginning to end. Still, I couldn’t get past this feeling, which led me to making some bizarre chord choices on the pre-chorus. That was December 29. I came to my senses January 4, one day before my recording session.

This song started in a shower in Arizona. The missing link was uncovered during another shower, this time in New Jersey. While lathering my hands with shampoo, I started singing “Put it on me, I don’t know / Put it on me, to your show.” It made no sense, but this “put it on me” bit felt like the right move. I dried off and found some chords that fit behind the melody.

Whereas the previous pre-chorus was written in hopes that somebody would compliment my deft chord changes, this one was built with the simplest changes possible. It worked much better. I recorded an acoustic demo and sent it over to Max along with two other songs that I’d been kicking around. I told him to pick which one we should work on the next day.

“I’m leaning towards the ‘Late Night’ one,” Max wrote. “I think that has the most banger potential.” That sounded good to me. When I arrived the next day, the three of us jammed on the song, Max on drums, Ken on bass, and me on guitar. Max quickly turned our jam into a basic recording. That recording is very raw — my voice hoarse and the lyrics unfinished — but the entire song is there.

When I went home, I knew I had some work to do on the song before I returned in a month to finish it. The biggest issue was the lyrics. Parts of the song sounded like I was singing about a break-up: “Falling in love can be unfair / I guess that’s alright”. But other parts sounded like I was trying to help a friend in need: “Put on your late night kicks / To come and dance with me / I know you gotta go / But I don’t want you to leave”. I needed to pick a lane, so I consulted Ken.

Texting with Ken about the song

I haven’t gotten my heart broken that many times, but I always default to singing about it. There was no need to rehash the same emotions that have been explored throughout my discography. Instead, I wanted to pull on another thread that ran through pieces like “3AM Friends” and “On His Mind”. These songs focused on friendship, on picking people up when they feel like they have no one. I rewrote the lyrics with that focus.

Old Verse
You always kill me with your blank stare
Can you give me a sign?
Falling in love can be unfair
I guess that’s alright

New Verse
You always kill me with your sad eyes
Can you give me a sign?
Cause I’ll be waiting till the sunrise
You got a lot on your mind

This was a stronger direction for the song. When I went back to the studio in February, Max and Ken had some ideas for the song. Rather than starting with a chunky guitar, we decided to open with a bubbling synth. That set it apart from some of the other straight rockers in my discography, like “hold u near” and “Stop + Stare”. Then Max had his buddy Jim lay down some country-flavored, chicken-picking licks. The song was done.

“Late Nite Kicks” cover art

While Skylar Adler mixed and mastered the song, my cousin John Cozz and I set out to make some artwork in the same style of my last single, “Move On Up”. With that finalized, there was only one change left. It was spurred on by a chat with Max and Ken:

Max: This song fucks now. You should spell it “Late Nite”, though. Not “Late Night”.

Ken: Song goes hard in the car

Chris: You’re right. I think “Late Nite Kicks” is a better title.

With the correct title in hand, the song was ready for the world. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed making it. Click the button below to listen on your streaming service of choice.

A New One
"Late Nite Kicks" by Chris Dalla Riva
2024 - Indie Rock

If you’d made it this far and have not clicked play on the song, then I don’t think I’ll convince you now. But if you’re more of a visual person, here is the low budget music video that John Franklin and I made for the rocker in the last week.

An Old One
"Come Softly to Me" by The Fleetwoods
1959 - Whispery Doo-Wop

I love songs that make you feel like it’s late at night. “Late Nite Kicks” attempts to evoke that feeling through its lyrical imagery. Other songs are able to accomplish that feeling through melody and harmony. The Fleetwoods, on the other hand, are able to do it through volume.

Topping the Billboard Hot 100 in 1959, “Come Softly to Me” rarely rises above a whisper. While most whispers are easily drowned out by the din of everyday life, The Fleetwoods’ whisper forces you to listen closely. As you’re pulled in, it feels like you’re out past your curfew, someone whispering “I love you” in your ear for the first time.

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