Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Evil-Hearted Woman Blues
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.
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.
The Dance Teacher
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.
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.
Silvia
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
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
Sunday, September 17, 2006
A Broken Bell
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.
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.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Jane, Sleeping in the Roses
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
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
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Against Pain
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
These Old Chains
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.
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.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Daniella
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:
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
My most popular song. I've gotten kudos on this at the open mics, and it has at least one fan in Northern Ireland:
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.hi there,michael
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
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
Sunday, September 10, 2006
The Mirror
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.
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.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Louise (All I Know Is You)
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.
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.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Most Every Day Blues
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!
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!
Thursday, September 07, 2006
The Gap Between
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
It All Goes Away
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?
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?
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Of your dreams
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.
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.
Monday, September 04, 2006
We The People: A Country Song
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.
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.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Into the Night
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.
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.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Beggar
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.
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.
Friday, September 01, 2006
My Heart Is A Word-Fist
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.
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.
