Preface
I continue to experiment with UDIO and Lalal. UDIO sings (and dances) and plays instruments. Lalal does a lot of stuff, but I use it to change singing voices.
This tune was the second one I wrote, somewhere around 2007. I notated it using Noteworthy composer. I had my main guitar teacher create an instrumental version. Interesting that. I had UDIO produce a few versions.
Today I tried changing the singing voice of one version with Lalal. I tried Drake, Frank Sinatra, Morgan Wallen, Freddie Mercury, and Elvis Presley. Sometimes, the backing tracks suffered in quality.
There is no control over key, and transpositions occur in the whole piece for each different voice. You could feed in just a vocal component, a “stem,” but the key would change and no longer match the backing track.
The vocal changes are typically quite good, and preserve the nuances of the singing. I used some of my own vocals for an experiment with Lalal. It turns out that you can’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear.
I had ChatGPT create a short story based on the song. Interesting that.
UDIO Version - Very Willie Nelson-ish
Too much instrumental. Quite good and true to my intentions. Not my melody of course —not possible with UDIO.
UDIO Version with Voice Change by Lalal
Elvis Presley version. The vocals are good, the backing track has suffered a bit. Lalal is interesting.
Lyrics of the Song “Rachael”
© G. Michael Zimmer, February 2007 [Introduction] Instrumental variation on the melody. [Verse 1] I'm 90 K from Pouce Coupe. The light is gettin’ dim. My wheels are rollin’ down the grade just fine. There’s glare-ice patches here and there, but that don’t bother me, ‘Cause Rachael’s waitin’ for me safe at home. [Verse 2] I pump the brakes before the curve, still skid into the crick. I'm upside-down in seconds, in a flash. The icy water’s risin’ fast, already at my chin. And Rachael’s waitin’ for me safe at home. [Bridge] Well, Rachael’s waitin’ for him by the phone. The table’s set for supper, but she hates to eat alone. He's a man who loves to ramble. He's a man who has to roam. So Rachael’s waitin’ for him by the phone. [Verse 3] I make it to the guard rail. Slick mud coats both my feet. My shoes are gone. I’m soaked. I’m cold. I’m hurt. I fumble for my cell-phone, out here can’t help me much. Though Rachael’s waitin’ for me safe at home. [Verse 4] I’m 90 K from anywhere. The light is growin’ dim. I’m curled into a ball beside the road. It’s funny I can’t feel the cold, but that don’t bother me. ’Cause Rachael’s waitin’ for me safe at home. [Coda] Are there sirens in heaven? Are there nurses in hell? These are premature questions, It’s too early to tell. Well, a middle-aged woman Sits alone in a room. On the Prairie, coyotes Sing praise to the moon. [Tag] But Rachael is still waitin’ by the phone. [Finish]
Story (ChatGPT) Based on the Backstory
Rachael stood at the window, her eyes tracing the outline of the darkening sky. "He should’ve been here by now," she muttered to herself, barely noticing the stillness of the house. The phone rested on the table beside her, silent. She reached for it, hesitated, then let her hand fall back to her side. “He’ll be fine,” she whispered, but doubt lingered in her voice.
Earlier, she had told him to be careful. “The roads are bad this time of year. Ice all over,” she had said, watching him lace up his boots, that half-smile on his face, the one he always gave her when she worried too much.
“I know, Rachael. I’ve driven in worse,” he had replied, his voice calm, steady.
“I just… don’t like it,” she had said, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth.
He had leaned in, kissed her cheek softly. “I’ll be home before you know it.”
Now, hours later, she stood alone, the silence heavy around her. She crossed her arms, trying to ward off the creeping chill that had settled in her bones. Her thoughts turned to him, out there somewhere, on the icy road.
Out on the highway, The Wanderer clutched the steering wheel tightly. The grade was steep, the road treacherous with patches of ice. His mind flickered to Rachael, back home, waiting. She’d always waited for him, no matter how far he roamed.
The truck hit a slick spot, and suddenly, it was out of his control. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath as the vehicle spun. The next moments blurred—crashing metal, icy water filling the cab as the truck plunged into the creek. He gasped, panic flooding his chest as the freezing water rose up around him.
“Rachael…” her name was the last thought he had before the world flipped upside down.
Back at the house, Rachael glanced at the clock again. It was well past the time he should’ve arrived. She sat down at the table, her fingers lightly touching the phone. She remembered their last words before he left, how he’d smiled at her, so sure he’d make it back.
"Why didn’t I make him wait till morning?" she whispered to herself, guilt gnawing at the edge of her thoughts.
Suddenly, the faint sound of coyotes drifted through the window, their howls cutting through the night air. Rachael shivered and stood, pacing to the door. She thought about calling him but stopped herself. "He’ll think I’m fussing again," she said softly, though worry creased her brow.
The Wanderer clawed his way out of the icy water, mud clinging to him, each movement slower than the last. His boots were gone, and his feet were freezing, but he barely felt it. Every breath was shallow, the cold numbing his body, but still, he pushed forward, gripping the guardrail, pulling himself up.
The cell phone in his pocket was slick with water. He fumbled with it, his hands barely working. No signal. Of course. Out here, in the middle of nowhere. He sank to the ground, feeling the weight of exhaustion take over. Was that a siren in the distance? He couldn’t be sure. The night was closing in around him. Maybe someone had found him, maybe not.
His mind flickered with half-formed thoughts—Rachael, waiting at home, the warmth of their kitchen. He could almost feel it, the heat of the stove, her arms around him. But then, there was something else. Nurses? The sound of footsteps? No, that couldn’t be right. Or could it? Was he in a hospital? Was there help on the way?
Rachael sat by the phone now, unable to shake the growing dread. "I should’ve called him by now," she said to herself, her voice breaking the quiet. But what if he was fine, just running late? She had worried too much before, she told herself. But this felt different. The clock ticked on, the night grew deeper, and the coyotes' song seemed closer, more haunting.
The Wanderer curled up beside the guardrail, barely conscious now. The cold wasn’t there anymore, or maybe it was, but he couldn’t feel it. Was he dead? Was he still here, waiting for someone to find him? The line between reality and whatever came after had blurred.
He thought of Rachael again, waiting. She would still be by the phone, still hoping he’d walk through the door.
His breath slowed. The sound of sirens faded, or maybe it was just the wind. He wasn’t sure anymore.
Rachael stood by the window, staring out into the night. “He’ll be home soon,” she whispered, more to herself than to the empty room. She looked at the phone once more, but it remained silent.
Outside, the moon hung low, and the prairie stretched out, vast and empty. The coyotes howled again, their voices carrying across the fields.
Rachael waited.