Pale Compromises

Its finally ready, the first quixotic album from John Welsh: Postmodern Love Letters. Here represented are my personal picks from the pale compromises I have created so far, most of them re-recorded in mono over the last couple weeks. For the sake of purity and cohesion-- and because my editing skills are not very good-- all of the songs are recorded in a single live take with just instrument and vocal. I like minimalism and natural sound anyway, so that is good. The only alteration I permit myself is a the "chapel" setting on the keyboard for the final track.

So have a listen if you'd like-- and please let me know if there are other songs that you would like to see included or songs I should cut, re-record, or reorder. And so I will continue to fine tune this album and get to work on number two with my newly named guitar, Rocinante.


Postmodern Love Letters

1. Louise (All I Know Is You)
One of the very first songs I ever wrote, I am delighted to offer "Louise" as the first track. It recieves this position because it is the most explicitly a "postmodern love letter," which is the title I finally decided on for the album as a kind of organizing principle. Rather, it is a phrase that strives to reunite the two strands that run through my attempts to write songs-- all of which are about either love or art: these being the most important things to me. Although it is certainly not my most complex effort-- really just two chords and a descending bass line-- "Louise" is one I have always liked. Although I tried to work out a different "voice" for the singer of this song, this is perhaps my most unmistakably personal effort. It definitely conveys something to me, although I'm not sure that meaning would be in any way communicable. But at any rate, I only write these songs for me anyway.

2. Daniella
I refer to this as my most popular song, because it has at least one fan in Northern Ireland who wrote me an email asking for the chords so that he could play it. I sent him the chords. The internet is a weird place. This is probably one of my better songs-- probably my most well-structured lyric. It is a distinctly "modernist" effort for the album. It has almost no personal content, really just being a meditation on the old theme of life vs. art, flux vs. stasis, in the form of a desire for a picture of "Daniella." This is in fact just because I needed a four-syllable name, although I did know a Daniella in Rome with whom I was somewhat smitten.

3. The Dance Teacher
This is another really basic song in dropped D, 1-4-5 with a Bm in the refrain. Another very 'modernist' even 'Cartesian' song, this is one I wrote after going to get salsa dancing lessons down on the corner. It turned out that my instructor was a very pretty girl and since this was the period when I was writing songs most frequently I wrote a song about it. I think that the girl somehow eventually heard the song and was CREEPED OUT! My apologies. Occupational hazard I guess.
The song, for better or for worse, is really only about myself. I try to describe the dichotomy between physical-intellectual, body-language, doing-describing, action-contemplation in which I see myself constantly trapped on the latter side-- able to interpret but not create, able to observe but not to do, able to dream but not to act-- able to sing but unable to dance.

4. The Gap Between
This song isn't about a godamn thing. I wrote it on a night when I couldn't sleep and it mainly grew out of a rhyme scheme. The chords were also added really late and it took me forever to get a song out of this. That said, it has grown on me, and it gets a fairly early position on the album. There are some good-- if unoriginal-- rhymes and I still like the line about meeting someone in a David Bowie song while stinking of monuments and soda pop. The entire last verse of this comes about because I had just listened to the Bowie song "Five Years" in which talks about drinking milkshakes cold and long. The switch to minor at the end is intentional, even if it may sound like a mistake. Originally all of the words in that position were under a flipped Cm, but I took most of them back to C.

5. These Old Chains
The second song I wrote on the piano. I have to write songs on the piano because I am not good enough to play other people's songs. Although it is riduculously simple I really like this one musically, although the lyrics are perhaps too dark and personal. Those who know me well will recognize immediately that this is a song about my battles with depression. Originally the chains were supposed to be biological-- somehow resembling DNA molecules, but I cut out all of the lines that made that analogy because I could never make them fit without being terribly awkward.

6. Lucy
This is a very specifically personal song, telling a story with a few apocryphal details to fit the rhyme and meter. You can put together the story from the song if you want, and if "Lucy" ever happens to hear it again my apologies but you probably knew all of it anyway.
I have been trying to get away from writing songs that clearly reference real events and people, but I did some of that in the early days. This makes the album because I still think it is my strongest chord sequence, probably because I took the key D7 figure from Elvis Costello's "Deportee" in which he wastes that very lovely change.

7. To Silvia
This is a creative translation of the poem "A Silvia" from the greatest of Italy's lyric poets Giacomo Leopardi. I had this great sad guitar riff so I decided to use it to tell the saddest story I could think of-- "A Silvia" came to mind. Leopardi is possibly the most pessimistic writer of all time, but he does write with incredible beauty and lightness and "A Silvia" is one of my favorite poems, although it loses much in translation.

Che pensieri soavi,
che speranze, che cori, o Silvia mia!
Quale allor ci apparia
la vita umana e il fato!
Quando sovviemmi di cotanta speme,
un affetto mi preme
acerbo e sconsolato,
e tornami a doler di mia sventura.
O natura, o natura,
perché non rendi poi
quel che prometti allor? perché di tanto
inganni i figli tuoi?

8. It All Goes Away
My most complex and difficult song, I can neither play nor sing this song as it should really be. The arrangement is a legacy of my days as a classical guitarist, and the lyrics represent a meditation on music and religion.

9. Of Your Dreams
The closest thing to a pop song that I am ever likely to write. The lyrics are really pretty pansy-ish, but its a solid kind of acoustic Neil Young dropped-d sequence.

10. You’re Beautiful (And It’s Not My Fault)
The newest song on the album, I've probably only played this two or three times since I wrote it. Lyrically it is just about the way I like to crush my own dreams. This grew out of the introductory riff that recurs between verses. I can't decide if the C7 on "fault" is too Ryan Adam's artificial and I should just stick with a C and sing the Bb. I like the principal riff and the refrain, but the rest of the song may need some work. I also steal a phrase from Bright Eyes which is something I'm not particularly proud of, although I make up for it in snobbery through an oblique reference to Robert Johnson's "If I Had Possession Over Judgment Day" in the last verse.

11. Evil Hearted Woman Blues
I just realized that I had that reference just before my Robert Johnson pastiche. I quite like that. This is a song I decided to write about the "evil hearted woman" that Robert Johnson mentions in "Kind Hearted Woman Blues":

I got a kind hearted woman, do anything in this world for me
I got a kind hearted woman, do anythign in this world for me
but those evil hearted women,
lord they will not leave her be.

At any rate, its just an anachronistic blues number-- I especially like the lines about the woman not needing a telephone, which I leave in although they have nothing to do with the song.

12. Almost You
Anyone with an acceptable degree of rock snobbery will know this is a reference to a line Elvis Costello's "Almost Blue":

There's a girl here and she's almost you.

I had been thinking about the truth of that line a lot and decided to stretch it into an entire song. Overall this probably isn't my best work, and the single rhyme scheme is quite artificial at times but there are parts of it that I really, really like and I do like the idea of doing a homage to a single line. There is also an omage to Dylan's "Most of the Time."
This is unfortunately also a song quite well-rooted in my personal life as I met someone who inexplicably reminded me of someone from my past. The "you" is fairly obvious, but thankfully the "she" is well-hidden.
There is a lot of background noise towards the end of this song, I think Althea was washing some pots in the bathroom, but I kept the recording anyway because I do a decent job singing the octave shifts. For this song to sound "correct" it would really require a singer with better control.

13. A Broken Bell
I'm not sure how well this turns out, but it is too ambitious to leave off the album. Although it is certainly very derivative it represents my attempt to write a positive song-- a love song to postmodernity-- rooted in the idea of imperfection as a pathway to joy. I am assisted in this by Leonard Cohen and my own reading of Eugenio Montale:

There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
-Cohen

Vedi, in questi silenzi in cui le cose
s' abbandonano e sembrano vicine
a tradire il loro ultimo segreto,
talora ci si aspetta
di scoprire uno sbaglio di Natura,
il punto morto del mondo, l' anello che non tiene,
il filo da disbrogliare che finalmente ci metta
nel mezzo di una verità
Lo sguardo fruga d' intorno,
la mente indaga accorda disunisce
nel profumo che dilaga
quando il giorno piú languisce.
Sono i silenzi in cui si vede
in ogni ombra umana che si allontana
qualche disturbata Divinità
-Montale

Of course the sufficiently snobby will also realize that it is an attempt to recast Dylan's apocalyptic "Everything is Broken" in a positive light. I repeat the line "People sleeping in broken beds" verbatim from the bard. Musically, I try to mirror the idea of uplifting imperfection by switching keys upward for the refrain and eventually trying to intentionally commit "errors" in the key toward the end of the song. I'm not sure I know enough theory to achieve this, but that is what I wanted to do. I like the line about the night's "broken freckle of stars." You can also hear me drop my pick when I finish playing the song. I think that is funny.

14. Against Pain
This is another creative translation. This time of the most compelling sections Aldo Palazzeschi's futurist manifesto "Il controdolore," which is one of the most moving things I've ever read-- prophetic in its awful silliness as Ginsberg would say. The manifesto is about confronting pain with laughter and joy, and begins by analyzing the form that generations of humanity have given to the formless idea of god. It ends by suggesting that hospitals should become theaters, and the terminally ill dressed as actors and clowns. As you can see from the last statement, it may not ultimately be successful in defending its belief that "Nothing is profoundly sad, everything is joyful"-- although bless it for even trying.
I am actually quite proud of this one, and the Bm--E change on "Nothing is sad deep in its heart" is the best thing I have written. For the album, I recorded this on the "chapel" keyboard setting, as a hymn of sorts.

Perhaps I know best why it is man alone who laughs; he alone suffers so deeply that he had to invent laughter.
-Nietzsche

Man, alone among the animals, was granted the divine privelege of laughter.
-Palazzeschi

Commentary:
My brain had been threatening me with the writing of this song-- easily the most ridiculous that I have written for quite some time. I really hope this is a satire, but sometimes I'm not sure!

Lyrics:

You’re my barista baby

Can I call on you sometime?

You’re my barista baby

Can I call on you sometime?

I got a no-foam, iced double caffe’ macchiato

Runnin circles in my mind

Barista baby your so lovely

Darling you could make me weep!

Barista baby your so lovely

I said you could make me weep!
Don’t give me no more of your coffee,

Cause I can’t hardly sleep!

Fix me one more frappucino

Babe I got to go away

Give me one more frappucino

Cause I got to go away

I got to get up and work in the morning

But I’ll bring you all of my pay.

Barista babe you hypnotize me

Like the starlit sky above

Barista babe you hypnotize me

Like the starlit sky above

You know what I really need babe?

Is a venti-sized cup of your love!

I know that you’ve got many others

Who love your pumpkin spice

Babe I know there’s many others

Who love your pumpkin spice

I’m addicted to you baby

I need your love at any price.

Barista babe we’re all so lonesome

The ones who stand in line

Barista babe we’re all so lonesome

The ones who stand in line

We pay for coffee everyday girl

Just to buy ourselves some time.

Barista babe I think I love you

Cause I see you every day

Barista babe I think I love you

Cause I see you every day

And I never talk to strangers

But I always need a chai latte.

Commentary:

Sometimes you procrastinate by writing songs. This is one of those times.

Lyrics:

You’re Beautiful

And its not my fault

You’re beautiful so let those teardrops start

Comin down

Oh, Comin down

Wrote a song about you

That I could not sing

I’d fly to meet you on old Icarusus’ wings

Lord his old wings

His old wings.

You’re Beautiful

And its not my fault

You’re beautiful so let those teardrops start

Comin down

Oh, Comin down

You’re a vision, baby

I’m a broken thing

Who can’t allow himself the tiniest of dreams

Such little dreams

Such little dreams

You’re Beautiful

And its not my fault

You’re beautiful so let those teardrops start

Comin down

Oh, Comin down

In another lifetime

I was made of pain

Now I can’t go outside cause baby it may rain

Lord, it may rain.

Lord, it may rain.

You’re Beautiful

And its not my fault

You’re beautiful so let those teardrops start

Comin down

Oh, Comin down

Please Mr. Johnson

Won’t you let me pray?
Give me back my heaven give me back my sunny day

Lord it may rain

Lord it may rain

Lord it may rain

Commentary:
New Mono Version.
A Robert Johnson pastiche... he was the greatest of them all. I have considered changing it to "Lonely-Hearted Woman," so as to appear less harsh... but hopefully the protagonist is at least somewhat sympathetic. She's just reading her bible and trying to keep her good man round, so she's gonna cut the hair off that po' boy's head. (okay, someone should probably hit me now).

Lyrics:
Honestly I usually improvise the lyrics to this one, along with just about everthing else, but here is what I sing in the recording, which actually gives it more of a narrative than I remember it possessing.

I'm an evil-hearted woman
you're a broken-hearted man
I'm an evil-hearted woman
You're a broken-hearted man
All the psalms tell me to love someone
but I'm not sure that I can.

You know Delilah was a woman
She done cut her poor man's hair
I said Delilah was a woman
she done cut her poor man's hair
What evil will it take lord,
to make a good man scared?

I got to go down to the river
that's what the good book said.
I got to go down to the river
that's what the good book said
Grab my baby when I shiver
and cut the hair off of his head.

They say an eye goes for an eye
a tooth goes for a tooth
I said now baby, that's what the good book said
I got to go down to the river
and cut the hair off of his head

You know a lonely-hearted woman
don't need no telephone
I said a lonely-hearted woman
don't need no telephone
she ain't a-never got to call no one
cause no one's ever home.

Commentary:
Re-recorded live in mono with a new set of strings and bridge-pins.
I wrote this after a night when I went to go get Salsa Dance lessons and my instructor turned out to be a very pretty girl. At the time I was looking for things to write songs about, so I wrote a song about it, although being the kind of solipsistic freak who writes songs that no one will ever hear and then comments on them-- the song winds up being much more about myself. Dancing standing as synecdoche for all of those aspects of life in which I have never really been able to participate.
This is actually one of the songs that I think is the best, but it still isn't finished because all the verses are basically interchangeable although there is a verse and a chorus arrangement, so I never know what order they should go in. It used to be called "Teach me to Dance" but I changed to the current title as an omage to Rufus Wainwright.


Lyrics:
Teach me to dance
Tonight begins with you
help me join the souls
who know what to do.

Teach me to dance
Do you think you could?
Teach me all the things
I never understood.

Teach me to dance
and I'll become my feet
I'll circle across the floor
and never find my seat.

Teach me to dance
oh its been so long
since I could move my body
oh, and feel at home.

Teach me to dance
and hold me tight
let me move with you
in the fading light

Teach me to dance
I'll teach you to sing
We won't be afraid
Lord, of anything.

Teach me to dance
look me in the eye
so I don't feel locked
in my broken mind

Teach me to dance
baby all the time
so when the music stops
I won't be left behind.

Teach me to dance
remind me again
that after everything
I am just a man.

Commentary:
I did a re-recording of Silvia today in Mono, which seems to have solved a lot of the balance problems I was having with the condenser microphone. I keep getting better at the recording part. I also played this one in C#m, I forgot where it was played originally, but it was lower, Bbm I think.
The music came first for this, I had this glorious sad riff so I decided to make a song of it and chose the saddest poem that came to mind-- Leopardi's "A Silvia" and did a bit of a creative translation. Unfortunately it never really developed past that initial riff so the song gets a little repetitive... it's still a decent adaptation and one of the one's I'm most proud of.

Lyrics:
O Silvia
Silvia
Your eyes used to shine like the sun
When we were young

O Silvia
Silvia
The rooms are all empty where you
Sat at dusk
Sat at dusk
And dreamed
Of what the future would bring
Of what the future would bring
To us.

O Silvia
Silvia
You left before you even learned to speak
of love
Speak of love
on holidays
Ahi! Come passata sei,
Silvia!

O Silvia
Silvia
Your eyes used to shine like the sun
but now you're gone.

O destiny!
Destiny!
Why don't you keep your promises to me?
I used to dream of a future that would
come for her and me
come for her and me

But is this the life?
Are these the hopes?
The loves, the joys, the world we thought would come
when we were young?
Oh Silvia
Oh Silvia

Commentary:
An old song that I finally got down to recording. It was written on the piano as a follow-up piece to "Against Pain"-- as part of my effort to write a happy song and articulate my own particular aesthetic vision: trying to find joy in imperfection as the kind of reversal of original sin-- imperfection as that which makes us ultimately more reversible and more free, a more positive version of Montale's idea of the miracle.
The astute will realize that it is also a response to Oh Mercy's "Everything is Broken" echoing its structure in the chorus and one line word for word. It changes keys, which is something I never do, and I intentionally leave myself on the wrong note on the last "with."

Lyrics:

A broken bell is pretty thing
needs no hunchback to make it ring
empty spaces in broken chains
broken cracks in the world we sang

Broken the promise, broken the vow
Broken the progress, broken the now

Break into laughter, burst into song
Everything joyful begins as wrong
The smile that cracks across your face
Leaves behind such a bittersweet trace

Broken books on a broken shelf,
broken the wisdom, broken the self

Far in the distance a little boy
finds a new game for a broken toy
Only the broken is born again
Only the broken can have no end

Open your arms and welcome the flaw
Love it with passion, love it with awe
Night alone is a perfect dark
Except for its broken freckle of stars

Broken glasses on broken heads
People sleeping in broken beds
Open your arms and welcome the flaw
Love it with passion, love it with awe.

Commentary:
A "pansy" song (no pun intended, ouch) that I wrote on piano one day... I'm not even sure I remember how this is played, I think its just C and F and I had a really basic little melody I was working on. I always liked the name Jane.

Lyrics:
Jane,
sleeping in the roses
you remain
a siren of the meadows
teasing flowers with your
unchaste eyes
like an hourglass of
broken lives

Jane,
please offer me another
sweet refrain
to wear upon my shoulder
Soft and gentle as the
dew of spring
Worn upon my pair of
broken wings

Jane, sleeping in the roses
Jane, sleeping in the roses
Never say I asked you for forgiveness
Never say I asked you for forgiveness

Commentary:
Worked as a translation of the most striking passages in Aldo Palazzeschi's futurist manifesto, Il controdolore-- "Against Pain" which is one of the most beautifully insane essays ever written. The music is essentially an improvised line over the chords from Neil Young's "Helpless" plus a Bm--E in the 'refrain' which is the best single change I have written. I think I will cut some of the later verses if I ever re-record this.

Lyrics:
If god has no form and is only grace
why did man paint him such a fearful face?
Nothing is sad right from the start
Nothing is sad deep in its heart

If I had to picture god as a man
He wouldn't be larger or smaller than
the humble man who's come this far
Nothing is sad deep in its heart

I'd hope that he made the world as a toy
and each one of us to be filled with joy
gave us pain so we could laugh at scars
Nothing is sad deep in its heart

Left man the laughter that would make him divine
More than a mammal who can only cry
Laughter the purest work of art
Nothing is sad deep in its heart

The sadness of Hamlet, the madness of Lear
Should only cause laughter and never tears
Smiling will set the wise apart
Nothing is sad deep in its heart

So we'll strip the dying from their light blue gowns
We'll dress them as actors, we'll dress them as clowns
and only the crazy will claim to b smart
Nothing is sad deep in its heart.

Commentary:
Intensely personal song about self-destructive patterns concieved of as something physical rather than emotional or psychological-- here they are clanging, heavy chains. Initially they were supposed to be made to resemble DNA molecules, but that is not a very poetic phrase and I could never manage to make it not sound stupid. I think the 2nd song I wrote on the piano. It has a slightly different form when I play it now.

Lyrics:

These old chains
are weighing me down again
been making me hate myself

These old chains
are drowning me out again
been singing in every song.
every song.

Maybe its all the same.
like Cohen said
love and chains
are two things no one unties.

I'm hearing the same old chains
dragging behind again
hearing their voices clang
voices straining.

These old chains
feel needed like sweet cocaine
feel tired like warm champagne
these old chains

I'm hearing the same old chains
dragging behind again
been making me
hate myself.

Commentary:
My most popular song. I've gotten kudos on this at the open mics, and it has at least one fan in Northern Ireland:

hi there,
im from northern ireland,
just listened to your songs on i-tunes.. loving them.. was wondering if u
wudnt mind telling me wat the chords were for daneilla?
dont worry im not going to steal ur song, just learning to play guitar!

would be great if u wud email me back, cheers man

michael

The internet is an intensely weird place. At any rate, just a song about life, art, and impermanence. Daniella is just a name with four syllables, although I knew a Daniella once in Italy who was very cute. I'm fairly sure its popularity is due to its synthesizer saxophones, the northern irish love their artificial sax.

Lyrics:

I wish I had a picture of you
Something that wouldn't change
Never tell me "I'm sorry"
In a French cafe
It would smile at me always
and look just like the day
Daniella you told me
you would always stay

But it would just cause confusion
and it would just cause pain
if I tried to hold you in a wooden frame

I wish I had a picture of you
in the light blue dress
you wore the day that I asked you
and you said yes
Do you remember the question?
Do you remember the day?
Daniella you told me you would always stay.

I know that love's an illusion
of a hungry brain
I just wish mine would choose one
that would never change.

I wish I had a picture of you
as I keep growing old
and I might not remember
every shade of gold
maybe time would fade it
as it would fade my eyes
and I would have to imagine
the way you smiled

But memory's an illusion
of a dying brain
Daniella, I know you'll
never be the same
Daniella, I know you'll
never be the same

Commentary
I wrote this when I was first banging on a piano trying to figure out how it worked. I couldn't play anyone elses songs so I wrote one of my own. As a result it has a distinctly "Chopping Broccoli" quality to it... along with some strange Eleanor Rigby-ness. The chords to this are now entirely different when I play it, but there are pieces of the lyric that seem worth saving.

Lyrics
She don't know how to look in the mirror anymore
her face is empty like a broken cup
no one ever told her she was beautiful
nobody ever looked hard enough.

She wipes the makeup from the bottom of her mother's eyes
and starts to think about waking up
no one ever told her life was beautiful
nobody told her it would hurt so much

She's only happy when she thinks about the wintertime
she's only human in the afternoon
no one ever told her life was beautiful
nobody told her it would end too soon.

She lays her head down on a pillow made of emptiness
the night enfolds her in a vivid blue
no one ever told her she is beautiful
cause she would never believe it's true.

Commentary:
The second or maybe third song I ever wrote, written ages ago although these lyrics are rather different from the original. Perhaps the most personal of all of my songs to date.

Lyrics:

Gonna write myself a letter
pretend that it's for you
Lord I wish I knew things better
but all I know is you.
All I know is you.

You know I tried to love you baby
Tried to love me too
Thought that it could save me
Wasn't good enough for you
Never good enough for you.

They say mistakes just make you stronger
But I ain't found that to be true.
Cause my life keeps going on, girl
And I keep missing you
I keep missing you.

Louise I wish I was a kid again
So I could feel like I was new
Maybe then I would learn something
Cause all I know is you.
All I know is you.

Gonna write myself a letter
pretend that it's for you
Louise I wish I could do this better
but all I know is you.
All I know is you.

Commentary:
The most baffling of my songs, I introduce it a bit on the recording. I decided that it was because I was listening to a lot of blues music and a lot of Randy Newman, so I came out with this very strange dramatic blues monologue. The percussion is me stomping on an empty guitar case.

Lyrics:
Saw a lady on a Sunday afternoon
she was busy humming some old gospel tune
"If god's a-coming then he better get here soon!"
Tell me, lordy why'd you make a man this way?
Do I have to fall in love most every day?

Saw a lady in a church on Monday night
Lord have mercy she was really outta sight
But she looked like she would put up quite a fight!

And before I even knew it was Tuesday morn,
I could hear a lady honking on my horn,
she was naked as the day we all was born!
Tell me, lordy why'd you make a man this way?
Do I have to fall in love most every day?

It was Wednesday in the middle of the week
Tried to tell a girl she had a nice physique
But she took her purse and smacked me in the cheek!

Friday finally came a-rolling in my head
Saw a baby she was dressed up all in red
but her husband came and nearly killed me dead!
Tell me, lordy why'd you make a man this way?
Do I have to fall in love most every day?

So I'm glad that I'm living this Saturday
And I'm kneeling by the San Francisco Bay
Pray to God he gonna take my love away!

Commentary:
This one has grown on me. I didn't like it much at first, but now I consider it one of my more successful failures to write a song. It has a fairly complex system of rhymes, but I'll be damned if it has any kind of a point. The incredibly random lines in the last verse are my favorite-- I especially like the idea of meeting someone in a David Bowie song.

Lyrics:
I hope I meet you in a jewelry store
While you look inside the glass
I'll be sure to spread some flowers on the floor
till they cover up the past

Maybe alcohol will help me bridge the gap between
the place I am and where I'll finally sleep
Or maybe love itself will empty like a pack of cigarettes
or a hundred other things.

Maybe we'll walk along the riverside
you'll wear a ribbon in your hair
I'll sigh and hold you like an alibi
till you feel more like a prayer

Maybe my resolve will help me bridge the gap between
the place I am and where I'll finally sleep
Or maybe love itself will crumble like a pile of regrets
or a hundred other things.

Someday I'll meet you in a coffee shop
or in a David Bowie song
I'll stink of monuments and soda pop
and all the things that I've done wrong.

Maybe only love can help me bridge the gap between
the place I am and where I'll finally sleep
or maybe love itself will vanish like the face of a brunette
or a hundred other things.

Commentary:
As I say, the hardest song that I've written. I like the music, and while the lyrics have some glaring unfixable imperfections I am generally pleased with them also. A song about music and religion.

Lyrics:
All the things I've ever longed for
will be buried in the strings of my guitar
memories of joy and sorrow
framing pictures about tomorrow
that never helped me learn to hold on
in the way I thought we never had to learn
Did I hear you say?
It all goes away?

Strange how easily my scarred hands
remind me how they teach us to survive
huddled and massed together
awaiting the next holy letter
to find us kneeling in a dark church
where we've waited for the future to arrive
Did I hear you say?
It all goes away?

Maybe an unfamiliar moonlight
will find me at the foot of my guitar
praying to hear an answer
above the din of the cancer
that teases me for kneeling at a piece of wood
where I only hear the shadows of my heart
Did I hear you say?
It all goes away?

Commentary:
My most James Blunt-iest song, although I don't know how it got that way, the guitar pary started as a solid Neil Young drop D kind of thing, but somehow.. pansified. Anyway, I need this in case I can burst onto the college pop charts... this recording is terrible, I don't think I am in any kind of key... I have since altered the rhythm a little bit to help me hit the high notes.

Lyrics:
Tell me all the things you used to dream about
when you were a pretty little child
Tell me all your secrets and your fantasies
all the things you hold inside and
I will tell you
mine.

We will run into the ocean
to a castle made of sand
we will leave behind emotion
and dissolve into the land
of your dreams.

Tell me all the things you used to dream about
when you were a pretty little child
Tell me all your secrets and your fantasies
all the things you hold inside and
I will tell you
mine.

We will run into the ocean
we will fall into the sand
you will teach me your devotion
teach me to be the man
of your dreams.

Commentary:
Another exceptionally poor recording of a song I may have never played again. I should probably do more than one take. I tried to write some kind of an allegorical political song in a Hank Williams form about the failure of the democratic party, but political songs are probably not my thing, allegories even less so. I tried to be as sympathetic as I could to everyone involved, but politics is depressing man. If I remember correctly I wrote this on a napkin during one of my student's tests.

Lyrics:

As another day is dawning on the prairie
and the cowboys ride the range of our TV
our revolver ballots watch over a family
that died sometime in 1953.

We can see the donkeys rotting on the prairie
but they only give us tiny bits of meat
hard to chew and undercooked and tough to swallow
and a man has always got the right to eat.

We may know that there are changes on the prairie
and that freedom comes in more than black and white
but it's God who has the power to condemn us
and no man is gonna help us sleep tonight.

And when the sun comes setting on the prairie
and we pray the lord our families soul to keep
we know Jesus will protect them from the nighttime
and democracy will help us go to sleep.

And an outlaw rides his horse through the prairie
you will see he'll find America at last
if he can hitch his leather reigns to a rocket
that will bear him ceaselessly to the past.

Commentary:
I had this idea for the melody to a gospel song. Somehow it turned into this. It should probably be played on the piano eventually, if it were to be recorded again. This is a pretty dark song, going back to it. Probably not my best work.

Lyrics:
In the middle of the forest of his life
Jesus wondered if his side could feel a knife
So he stole into a garden out of sight
and he shook an angry fist into the night.

Into the night. Into the night.
Into the nght. Into the night.

While beside a lonely candle in his home
Dylan tried to pour his fear into a poem
but his raging at the dying of the light
would tomorrow only fade into the night.

In the artificial glow of the marquee
Elvis blew a gunshot wound in his TV
and remembered days he didn't dress in white
as his greatness slipped away into the night.

As winter mixed his smoke with frozen breath
Bogart knocked the ash from his last cigarette
and remembered love was never black and white
as he tossed a lighted match into the night.

Commentary:
This was my attempt to translate Pirandello and Sartre into the language and world of the blues. This is a song about being percieved by the Other-- about how even those who most love you love not you, but a version of you that they have themselves have constructed. Ultimately we have no control of the way we are percieved by others, no control of the image we see reflected in the mirror or in another pair of eyes... at least according to this song. I used an image from a soliloquy in Pirandello's Henry IV as a point of departure.

Lyrics:

I'm a beggar babe
Beggar at the gates of your eyes
I'm a beggar babe
Beggar at the gates of your eyes
You might think you see me baby
But its just some other guy.

They're shining baby
like they was made of glass
You know your eyes are shining baby
like they was made of glass.
Bouncing back pictures of my face
that make me look like such an ass.

I want to grab it baby
Tear it from the wells of your eyes.
I want to grab it baby
Tear it from the wells of your eyes.
Stab and mutilate that face
Till it looks more like mine.

But I can't touch it babe
It's weightless as a cloud in the sky
No I can't touch it babe
It's weightless as a cloud in the sky
I guess I can't change the way you love me
But I can't see know reason why.

I'm a stranger baby
Clawing at the walls of your eyes
I'm a stranger baby
Clawing at the walls of your eyes
I just want to look into those mirrors
and recognize myself inside.

But maybe that's all that I am, baby
I only live inside your heart
Maybe that's all that I am, baby
I only live inside your heart
and maybe I should start to doubt myself
like that fucker named Descartes.

I'm a beggar babe
Beggar at the gates of your eyes
I'm a beggar babe
Beggar at the gates of your eyes
You might think you see me baby
But its just some other guy.

Commentary:
I really hope this is the strangest title I ever write, but I know it won't be. Inspired by a line from the movie Closer in which Clive Owen is talking about how the human heart looks like a fist covered in blood. I took that image in a very different direction and wrote a song about songwriting-- partially as a self-defense against being made fun of by Paul. I kind of like the image of violence and inspiration here, but the song is crap.

Lyrics:
I roll my heart into a fist
and beat my memory
till it sounds like this.
Some brittle parts of me
mixed with a kiss
bruised and torn apart
then sung like this.

They were never anyone to me
but a part of my own mind
and voices of a melody I could not
leave behind.

I stab my heart with frozen breath
and bleed on the page
till it looks like death
then a search will start
in the paper stain
for traces of the man
it may contain.

They were never anyone to me
but a part of my own mind
and voices of a melody I could not
leave behind.

Commentary:
One of my alltime favorite lines from Elvis Costello-- "There's a girl here and she's almost you." I stretched that into a whole song, or tried. There is also a lovely echo of Dylan's "Most of the Time"-- if my songs do nothing but pay tribute to the lines and songs I love than that is enough.
I know what this should sound like but I don't have the musical or vocal talent to make it sound right, I hope you can kind of guess what the notes should be-- eventually again this should probably be on piano, and I've tried it on there a couple times. I'm not a huge fan of this song, but I do like the thematic movement in the last three verses.

Lyrics:
She's almost you
She's almost you
before I went insane
before all the shame
without all the pain
without all the blame.

It's almost true
It's almost true
that I can repent
and be forgiven
I've found you again
just like you were then.

I was almost through
I was almost through
Your memories confined
in the back of my mind
you were far behind
most of the time.

But she's almost you
She's almost you
Everything I forgot
the day that we fought
all that I've sought
or maybe she's not.

I don't know who
I don't know who
she is deep inside
I can't see past her eyes
that I've covered in lies
to look just like you.

Which they almost do
They almost do
She is almost you.
It is almost true.
I was almost through.
Before she was you.

Commentary:
This is more specifically personal than I would like it to be, and therefore has that kind of triviality of the real that might fail to make it meaningful for anyone but myself... or another person who has taken part in a silly college non-love affair. I have considered striking it from the repetoire, but I also feel it is my most successful chord sequence-- probably because I lifted a fair portion from Costello's "Deportee" (honestly, he wasted it!) and a key figure from Tom Waits' "Blue Skies." I apologize to "Lucy" if she ever hears this song, because I bet would probably figure it out, maybe for the first time.

Lyrics:
Remember the day you were crying
eyes wet with tears of belief
you weren't supposed to stay together
but you could never really leave
Why did you let me fall in love with you
when your heart was never free?
Why did you take me out dancing all night long and hold me so
I'd believe?

Remember that night in the pool hall
with your ex-boyfriend and Marie
I could tell right away that you loved him
or at least you had met him before me
Why did you take me out dancing all night long?
Why did you make me believe?
How could look at me with those dark and lovely eyes and never know?
Lucy.

I could tell you were broken like a wine glass
that fell from the lips of a beast
you were waiting to open like a rosebud
that trembles at the touch of the breeze.
Why did you look at me with those dark and lovely eyes?
Why did you make me believe?
Didn't you know that it was godamn, fucking hard not to hold you?
Lucy.

We stayed up all night in November
blowing smoke-rings by the lake.
You told me it was so romantic
and couldn't look me in the face.
Didn't you know that it was godamn, fucking hard?
Why did you make me believe?
Why did you walk me by the frozen waterside to feed your breadcrumbs
to the geese?

Never could blame you cause you loved him
that might be the best part of you.
You had so much love and you needed someone
but I needed someone too.
Why did you walk me by the frozen waterside?
Why did you make me believe?
Sometimes I wonder if you even know how badly I... loved you so,
Lucy.

Commentary:
I used to think this was a decent song, now I really don't like it. Oh well, its an early song.

Lyrics:
I wish you'd just leave it alone
Instead of leaving me tumbling and lost with no direction home
I spend my whole life thinking of you
If you left I ain't sure that I'd think of much else to do
Why you gotta take my life from me
Pack your bags and hit the street and just
Drive Away

Why don't we just see how it goes?
Sit down feet up and maybe wash ourselves some dirty clothes
Spent my whole life waving goodbye
Why can't we just do all that shit on the day we die?
Why ain't our lives good enough?
Why do we leave the ones we love and just drive away?
And watch drive away?

I guess you gotta change
I guess you need to change
A chance to rearrange
Hop a bus and change your name
I guess we gotta change
I guess we all gotta change

I wish I was more content
Maybe I was too old fore I learned what that word meant
I spent my whole life waiting to be
well someone anyone just as long as he ain't like me
Why do we waste all the time
to build sand castles in our mind and just
drive away
and just drive away
and watch 'em slide away

I'm not sure I can change
maybe you just don't change
Always be the same
different place or different name
I guess we never change
and yet we need to change.

Commentary:
While I was living in Bologna, I set an Alfred Lord Tennyson poem-- "Break, Break, Break" to music, somehow I just heard the way it should sound. It was I think the first song I ever wrote. Eventually the poem sort of tried to turn itself into a Hank Williams song ("Take these Chains from my heart" comes to mind), which is this one.

Lyrics:
Break, Break, Break
The heart that you've stolen from me
and teach my poor soul to cut loose from
the thoughts that just won't let me be

Oh I miss you in early septembers
I miss you but I know that it's wrong
like a fire's slow-dying embers
my love still shines weak in this song

Break, Break, Break
The heart that you've stolen from me
and teach my poor soul to cut loose from
the thoughts that just won't let me be

Why bury dry leaves in a scrapbook?
Why pine for the things that I've lost?
All the fears and the tears and the crap took
from having my heart as my boss

Break, Break, Break
The heart that you've stolen from me
and teach my poor soul to cut loose from
the thoughts that just won't let me be

Oh, I bet that you think that it's over
And I bet that you think that you've won
Oh, I wish I could make myself hate you
but somehow I can't get it done

Break, Break, Break
The heart that you've stolen from me
and teach my poor tongue to utter
the words that will set me free

After losing all of my lyrics and chords in the last computer crash, I decided that there should be a home on the web for my songwriting escapades. Pale compromises will be that home, it should have a mini-player with the songs as well as lyrics, comments on the songs, and perhaps chords as well.

Nonsense prevails, modesty fails
Grace and virtue turn into stupidity
While the calendar fades almost all barricades to a pale compromise.