followthatsong

Sirens

2012-02-27T21:27:00.003-05:00

i met her on the docks
all that bread on the water
she looked like a mermaid's daughter
and the sirens went off
and a storm came up
but we stayed on the rail
and now that ship has sailed. sailed.
-
we lived at the beach
all that metal in the sand
got so hot, we couldn't stand it
prices went up
i got laid off
we'd share a pint of ale
and now that ship has sailed. sailed.
-
we moved down the coast
all those lights behind us
where the shadows find us
and the fog came down
and it killed the sound
of lovers on the rails
and now that ship has sailed
-
i watched her drift away
all that blue horizon
her setting sun, for me is rising
and the water's sound
ebbing down:
"you failed, you failed"
now that ship has sailed. sailed.
-
-
and that, folks, is all he wrote. nine songs in 27 days. the challenge was 14 in 29. but that ship sailed days ago.
-
i jinxed myself when i only had one left to write for the album, thinking and writing that it would be over soon. what i hadn't considered was why this particular song was being written last - ie. i hadn't come up with an idea for it.
-
the missing number was a response to Fred's song "Ship": "Lord, if you could find me a place to land, / My ship needs to come in". how brilliant is that?
-
the harder i tried to come up with something, the more i realized that i was exhausted from the first eight. so i quit trying and gave myself a rest.
-
and it worked, by gum - my ship came in. i wrote this tonight in about seventy minutes, with Eaglesmith's voice in my head. my Fredhead.
-
thank you Fred Eaglesmith. thank you Susan F., who kicked me off.
-
and thanks to you few beauties for joining me on the ride. i can't wait to play them for you.

Moon and Sun

2012-02-16T21:15:00.005-05:00

the moon used to fool us

and we still say it "shines"

when we know it's reflecting

the sun beyond the pines

and it's the same for me

people think i'm fine

sometimes i'm the only one who knows

it's because you're mine

(refrain) i'm the moon to your sun

mirror to your light

you are the dawn at the end of my night

the world throws a shadow

at the ever-changing moon

hard to know at night

the sun is coming soon

and it's the same for me

dark before the dawn

sometimes i'm the only one who knows

the dark side you are on

(refrain)

(coda) and the stars we can share

there's thousands of you out there

sister stars

everywhere

(refrain)

i wrote this song in a couple of hours tonight, after taking a break for two days. all i did was let the image roll around in my head, without writing anything down.

it's a response to Fred's "Tunnel": "she lights the light at the end of the tunnel". Eaglesmith is a master at putting a spin on well-known phrases and images to make them fresh and interesting. it's something i strive for myself.

i needed to find another metaphor to say a similar thing, so i stole an idea from another great Canadian writer, Lynn Miles. her song is "I'm the Moon": "You're the sun, I'm the moon".

Deb and i have always loved this song, and it's one of very few we play together. it has a rolling drum beat that Deb kills on the cajon. and it suits our personalities - if you can't guess, i'm the moon - the one with a dark side, and a shiny one, thanks to the sun. Deb is the positive one, who shines her light on my darkness.

when i got two verses and the refrain, and was wondering how or whether i should continue - another verse? bridge and verse? - i found it a bit black-and-white. so i added some grey by changing the last line of verse two to suggest that she, like everyone, also has a dark side, while helping me to dispel mine.

then an idea for a coda to add something universal to the personal, ie. women, "sister stars", who shine on their respective planets and moons.

there are ten songs on "Dusty". i've now written eight for the current project, and i had previously written another, "Ridin' the Fences", as a direct response to the album. so i only need one more. it will be interesting to see whether i continue with FAWM towards 14 total for February, once i write a response to the tenth, "Ship", which is another common metaphor, turned beautifully by Mr. Eaglesmith. perhaps i shouldn't be counting chickens - "my ship needs to come in".

400 NORTH

2012-02-13T16:46:00.009-05:00

four hundred dances, it felt like tonight

we just couldn't stop

they were playin' our favourites, start to end

we yelled "turn it up!"

(refrain) but silence is good, and what's under the hood

will get us over this hilltop dome

and a river of light falls into sight

here we are, half-way home

i swear there's four hundred pickups, haulin' Skidoos

lookin' for the snow

who knows why they love that noise

but i could tell you what i know

(refrain)

of the four hundred things i could say in this darkness

to move you, north with me

"i love you" would be the first and the last,

and a few times in between

(refrain)

(coda) it's less than an hour now

you just close your eyes

i will wake you for

the next river of light

there are random times when Deb and i have the same thought, and there is a particular place where we always do. it's on the 400 freeway north, where, over the crest of a hill, you can see a ribbon of headlights snaking down the curving hill in the southbound lanes, and the thought we share is "and the river of cars / they fall like stars / down the I-75". killer line from the song named after the interstate.

one small thing that bothers me about Fred Eaglesmith is that his geographical images, and inspiration, i suppose, are almost all American - on this album, it's Texas, the I-75, Wichita, Oklahoma. his music is quite correctly called "Americana".

this song is an hommage to our favourite cut on "Dusty" - my lyric could be sung to Fred's melody, fairly easily. but i make it personal, and hopeful, and drag it into central Ontario.

i wanted to change "river of cars" to "ribbon of light", but Deb lobbied successfully to stick with "river".

that killer line is a great example of rule-breaking behaviour, the outcome of which is stronger and better than what he might have come up with by following the picky standards some of us like to set for ourselves: 1. the grammar is questionable, ie. singular "river", plural "cars", plural verb form even 'though it's "river of cars"; and 2. he piles a simile on top of a metaphor in the same line.

it's brilliant. but i doubt there's any planning involved - i think Fred just doesn't care much for conventions. he writes a lot of songs - a friend of his quotes him as saying "i write fifteen songs before breakfast" - and performs and records the ones that work.

so that's song number seven, less than half-way through the month. "Here we are, half-way home."

LOOKIN' FOR RAINBOWS

2012-02-09T22:05:00.005-05:00

what are you supposed to do, when there's nothing to be done

even the shadows are a gift from the sun

it ain't rained in a while, but the crops are fine

plenty of fish in the creek

and the best one on the line

(refrain) don't go lookin' for rainbows

you've already got the gold

don't go tellin' stories you already know

don't dream of another, it'll leave you cold

don't go lookin' for rainbows

what are you supposed to say, when you think you've said it all

say it again, and again you'll fall

tell her you're glad she got hold of you

this time on the phone, and the first time too

refrain

(coda)here's what you're supposed to do:

find the one who's good for you

say it right and make it true

and don't go lookin' for rainbows
-

i know, it's not great. i took a day off to help some friends, and i lost the groove.

that's my excuse, anyway. i'm writing with enough confidence to expect that what i'll end up with is good, so when it's not, well...

i knew that Fred's "Rainbows" would be a difficult song to start from, but i was keen to do it, once again, against the grain. i've stolen the first lines of each verse, but my larceny goes way deeper. i'm using some of his phrasing style, and definitely bits of melody - all these things add up to the "feel". i want to steal that feel.

"feel" wasn't enough on this one. it might get changed for the better after i've played it a bunch of times.

Hey Darlin'

2012-02-07T18:57:00.005-05:00

hey, hey darlin'

the wind from Santa Ana

is blowing through my ears

and messin' with my mind

hey, hey darlin'

it moves that dress you're wearin'

and wild shining hair

it looks like you're still tryin'

(refrain) hey, hey darlin' / do you wonder i'm confused?

today you're all seduction / Last night i was feelin' used

hey, hey darlin'

those boots might be walkin'

but they looks so good

underneath my bed

hey, hey darlin'

to stay don't mean a long time

i feel like i've done mine

here inside my head

(refrain)

hey, hey darlin'

the wind from Santa Ana

is blowing you away

right out of my mind

hey, hey darlin'

that dress you're wearin'

looks better from the back

and you're not even tryin'

(refrain)

ooh that was fun. to write something that is transparently a rip-off is very freeing.

"Hey Baby" is Fred's forlorn, sexy account of the end of love. i built the whole feel of my song by stealing his line "that dress you're wearin".

once again, i chose to change it mostly with the male character, while still lost because of love, at least realizing he is better off out of it.

it feels like something i will love to sing. once i learn it.

Beast and Brother

2012-02-05T23:55:00.003-05:00

there is a noble beast / a feast for the sporting eye

we give him his release / never say "die"

yes, there is blood to spill / but it could be ours

in this clash of will / Art versus Power

(refrain) beast and brother / in the stands, a lonely girl

we love, we kill the other

'round goes the world

and in the second act / played in the hot red dirt

you try to follow that / someone gets hurt

yield to the younger man / the man of peace

let him find his own / release

beast and brother / and still a lonely girl

we love, we kill the other

'round goes the world

and the noble beast / no longer waits

we give him his release / and a gate

beast and brother / there stands a lonely girl

we love, we kill the other

'round goes the world

are we having fun yet? holy moley. i'm having a blast, learning about the way i write and trying things i normally wouldn't, while i mine for ideas to write multiple varying songs.

this one is an indirect response to the last song on Dusty, "Carne del Toro", a tour de force of Spanish/American rhythm and melody under a killer metaphor.

as i listen daily or so to Fred's album, and live with the images, i find myself looking for ways to lighten the emotional load. this one changes voice in the middle to turn things around and instill some optimism, misplaced 'though it may be. the omnipresent Old Guy (matador/Hemingway) has the first word, his conscience the next, the naive young man the last.

as for doing what i normally wouldn't - i'm trying to remember if i've ever done this before - the last refrain is a different melody, simple and brooding, but somehow ending the song with a cool spaghetti western vibe. or something.

im looking forward to March, when i can relax and look(/listen) back on these songs.

I See You in Crowds

2012-02-04T21:14:00.002-05:00

i'm counting on a friend of a friend
to get word to you and back / that since the end
i found a crack / in my resolve to forget
-
i'm hoping you will be glad
that i remember / what we had - fire in December
and not a thought to regret
-
(refrain) i see you in crowds / the music is loud
two deep at the bar
i hate to think / that's you sharing a drink
in a booth, in the back, in the dark
-
i'm wondering what i might say
if i get the chance / i'm not ready today
to ask you to dance
i never did - how could i start?
-
believing my own fantasy
stronger than doubt / even in me
you made it out
with half of my heart
-
i see you in crowds / it's always the same
get a strange look when i call out your name
i hate to think of us sharing a drink
in a booth, in the back, in the dark
-
-
that's all i want to say, really.
ok if you don't know Fred's song "Crowds", you should. it's the classic obsessed lost love song, true work of art.
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Fred's character's obesession is that he still looks for his lost love in crowds. my character sees his there.
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and it made it somehow easier that the song is so perfect - the bar is set so high that there is no longer a bar.
-
the song is very short - about two minutes flat. i considered a bridge in the middle, but the two parts, before and after, are balanced and need no exposition.
-
plus - the month is young, i'm sure i'll need something in reserve at some point. this project is a marathon - my songwriting is usually a sprint.
-

Still Dusty

2012-02-04T10:25:00.004-05:00

DUSTY by Fred Eaglesmith

Across the mesa, the daylight shines

in your eyes, and it makes you blind

And in your head, sirens wail

They just let you out of jail

-(refrain) You're just dusty now / There's flies on you

Your guns are rusty / and your soul is too

The Texas is wearin' off of your leather boots

You're just dusty / There's flies on you

There's tobacco inside your cuffs

and you drink too much

but it's never enough

People stare at you

as you stand and cough

Might be the weather / Might be the dust

-refrain

(bridge) Rain, rain, rain, in a western sky

Teardrops in your heart and gravel in your eye

-refrain

the project is "songs inspired by the Fred Eaglesmith album 'Dusty'", but i thought the title song should be more of a direct response and tribute. "Still Dusty" was the project's working title, but i had a fair idea from the start that the title song would relate more literally to its forbear. i changed the perspective to the first person, and with the phrase "I'm still dusty", realized it could be in waltz time, rather than the original 4/4.

i started jamming on lyrical ideas, with that 3/4 rhythm, and soon came up with three ideas for verse, bridge and refrain. looking at those, it seemed they might be too different to fit together. but i trusted that they were coming from the same place of inspiration, and settled in to bring some sense to the disparity.

the song fits a familiar pattern for me, where i start with an image that may get a laugh before the audience realizes it's a sad song. c'est la guerre.

STILL DUSTY

i was reading the Peanuts, wondering "which one am i,

Linus or Charlie Brown, philosopher or clown,

dark or daylight?"

-(refrain) I'm still dusty / It's what it must be

I'd never be free / if it weren't for the dust

My guns are rusty / it isn't just me

I'd shoot me something / if it weren't for the dust

Now, sitting ain't easy / when you've walked the world 'round

Canyons and hillsides, / alone or by her side,

Upsides and downs

-(refrain)

-(bridge) She was the nurse, when i banged up my knee

in that bang-up rodeo i did for free

she said "fool, that's no kind of deal"

i said it's better to feel

something

She kept calling me "fool" 'til the day that she died

I guess i'm Charlie Brown. I miss her even now

in dark or daylight

-(refrain)

Well, that's song two, early on February 4th. i'm beginning to think this idea might not be so crazy after all. i have no idea what the next song will be. first plan is to listen to Fred's album this morning, and get whacked upside the head with a phrase or idea. so far, it's working...

Songwritingly Challenged

2012-02-02T09:58:00.008-05:00

Happy Groundhog Day!

Wiarton Willie predicts an early spring. so are we skipping winter?

i was walking home from work the other night, with a few things in my head. my friend Susan had alerted me to a crazy idea: February Album Writing Month. that's right - the challenge is to write fourteen songs in twenty-eight days.

i was also thinking, as i always am, that i need to find an idea for a new songwriting project.

i also had a topical phrase in my head which i thought might become a song: "There hasn't been a winter yet".

that day we had snow, something we haven't seen much of so far. i got home and shovelled the drive, with the new song growing in my head. when i entered the house, Deb had a cd on - Fred Eaglesmith's "Dusty", one of my very favourite albums. and hers: "I love it because it's about old guys".

Ka-Ching! the world conspires to bring these things together: my new project would be "Still Dusty", an album of songs inspired by my love for Fred's album.

so i'm right on track - one song, two days - for how long, no one knows.

I'll Be Ready

There hasn't been a winter yet / the pattern is on hold

I'm doing what i can / i will until i'm cold

There hasn't been a winter yet / i don't feel it coming on

The evening wind is empty / but it pulls another dawn

refrain: When winter comes, i'll be ready

When temperatures are low, and steady

Life goes underground

Snow contains the sound

When silence comes around, i'll be ready

There hasn't been a winter yet / the ponies are getting soft

The old wolf can't hide / when they go running off

There hasn't been a winter yet / the trails ain't open

Thin ice on the lake / begging to be broken

refrain

There hasn't been a winter yet / but time does not stand still

It marches on 'til March is gone / and the sun hits the hills

There hasn't been a winter yet / i'm watching from the porch

The creeping south will soon engage / the armies of the north

refrain

There hasn't been a winter yet / we're suspended in fall

The colour-scented season / beneath it all

There hasn't been a winter yet / that didn't end in spring

Cemetery flowers / you won't have to bring

refrain

living a dream

2011-07-20T12:49:00.007-04:00

dear Terra,

excuse the absence, once again, but i've been busy, living the dream and then recovering from it.

being hired to play at this year's Mariposa Folk Festival has sent me through the gamut of emotions, from elation to anxiety, fear to excitement, happiness to exhaustion.

it turned out to be a wonderful weekend. i wasn't scheduled to play 'til sunday, so the first two days were relaxed and fun. the family was reunited, and good times were had at the ArtsU tent - the first time we've had such a visible presence on site.

sunday came and Sue Charters and i did our first outdoor presentation of the Blood and Fire show, a first also for the shortened version, The Donnelly Primer. not a huge crowd, but it went very well. my brother and sister-in-law and their musical son drove up to catch it for the first time, and there was a great back-and-forth with audience members afterward.

i was relieved to have gotten through the first show successfully, and i found myself surprisingly relaxed leading up to the big one, hosting a workshop in the pub with a veteran folkie and a new friend, a young songwriter accompanied by his fiddling companion.

i introduced myself to the veteran outside the pub tent, and then to the fiddler, who i asked to join us on stage. the veteran seemed unsure of things, never having heard of us. but we set up, me vowing to install electronics in my old Larrivee, as the sound crew, working a new and unfamiliar hi-tech board, were unable to cut the feedback from the instrument mic. i tried to pretend i was playing a twangy twelve-string with brand new strings and way too many overtones. it kind of sounded like that.

i asked the pro to start us off, which seemed to surprise her. i had tried some funny shtick to lighten things up, for myself as well as everyone else - stripped off and changed my shirt and publicly denied that we were the pro's latest folk supergroup. i guess she thought i was going to play the first one myself - in my view a workshop faux pas, and a thing i vowed i would never do.

it was magical. we went around three times and i got to close with Emmylou On the Radio, just as i had planned, or at least hoped. the audience was enthusiastic, and the veteran congratulated me on my job of hosting and told me that it was her favourite set of the weekend.

talked with my brother and a few folks outside, and then my wife and Suse-my-muse, who fed me with a fresh view of how i had done. i realized that what i was feeling mostly was relief, that i hadn't taken in just how special a moment it had been. Deb and Susan can do that for me, better than anyone.

so we celebrated the rest of the day, with a decent cheque in my pocket and a bit of cash from cd sales. that night i found myself avoiding bed, not wanting my day of days to be over.

i was surprised how back-to-normal everything was over the next week. it didn't match the high i was still feeling, the dream continuing into waking.

so yesterday, having the house to myself, i set out to write a song. all i had were the first three words and a stolen melody for them. so i went out to the tent (our dining/party shelter, the shady place to be on a hot day) with my guitar and notebook, and started with the three words and notes, Come On, Dreams.

come on, dreams, i want to fly tonight

come on, dreams - damsels to save.

they're all around, i hear them calling,

and i'm feeling brave

i've been having these daylight dreams

how could life be as good as it seems?

i don't want to change a thing

now, about these damsels...

refrain

i dared to dream, some nights

of a creature i would ride

a Spanish butterfly

in search of damsels...

refrain

(bridge:)

the creature has a name

my head is turned, and turning gray

who will save this day?

my damsels.

such a shock, when dreams come true

you become a bigger "you"

now i'm painting what i drew

bring on those damsels...

come on, dreams.

the damsels don't need saving, of course, but they're more fun than windmills. they are Deb and Suse and Alyssa and Jen and Carol and Lori and Wendy and Susan and Diane and Sue and the list goes on.

the creature is referenced by a rhyme with name, ie. "fame", as in "don't let it turn your head".

and Spanish for butterfly would be "mariposa".

so in the bridge, the song gets turned on its head, and the damsels save me. as always.

inspiration i could live without

2011-06-01T12:49:00.001-04:00

Terra, David. David, Terra.

i've just written my second song for this joyous bastard, and wish i'd never felt the need to write either. the first was "The Question", after David's wife Heidi died a few years ago. it became part of our "Tiny Rehearsals" project, dubbed by some as "a few ditties about death". he was in the front row for the single show we did, and the picture above was taken the same night. he's the most lovable goofball.

the new one is called "While You Were Gone", about our experience the last three weeks while David was in an induced coma after a horrendous motorcycle accident.

the good news is that he's awake again, and healing, slow and sure. his fiance, the strong and wondrous Julie, has been at his bedside throughout and kept us updated. in the meantime, thousands of friends and strangers across the continent have been praying for him in their way.

what would it be like to miss three weeks of your life, only to wake up in pain and confusion? i don't really know. but i wanted somehow to let him know what it was like for us, while he was gone.

while you were gone, i took up my pen and i
laid it all out, that you'd rise again
i sent out a message, like thousands of others
women who love you, and all of your brothers

while you were gone, the earth went on spinning
like wheels beneath you. the day was beginning.
i bet you were laughing, a moment before
silence defeated the motor roar

while you were gone, angels would dance on the
head of a pin, if given the chance
so we gave it to them. we danced too,
on pins and on needles. we danced for you

while you were gone, the moon didn't spin
it started out dark, and lit up again
it looked like hope, and a little like you
grey and white, from black and blue

while you were gone, hearts were afire,
aching with owning a single desire
a vision to hold us: an arm on a shoulder
we're walking ahead. we're getting older

while you were gone, the earth went on spinning
like wheels beneath you. the day was beginning.
i bet you were laughing -

i would have been quite content in other circumstances to have never written these songs, but, reality being what it is, i'm glad i could find a way to write them. they started in a place that was so full of emotion, i needed time and distance to be able to turn the passion into craft.

and simply DOING something was a balm to my feelings of helplessness.

cheerslove
paul

Between the Covers

2011-05-13T15:16:00.004-04:00

Dear Terra,

i've been learning a couple of themed cover songs for a benefit gig tonight, and it hasn't been easy trying to memorize the words. it has occurred to me that it's because i've been writing and playing my own songs for so long, hardly ever playing covers.

when i try to sing someone else's words, i want to replace them with my own, sing it the way i would say it, phrase by phrase.

i'm trying to remember what it was like, when i wasn't writing, playing other folks' songs i loved and had to learn because i couldn't get them out of my head otherwise. i appreciated each turn of phrase, wishing i could come up with something so poetic, so perfect.

and then i could. and now i find it hard to internalize someone else's song. because that's the way i used to do it. many of my friends and contemporaries choose to change a song, find some way to make it their own, in their way. i always played covers as closely as possible to the original, ie. the song i loved.

it's been an interesting exercise, in any case. and i'm glad i've partly figured out why it's been as hard as it has - much better than assuming i've lost some capacity in my middle years.

tomorrow i will go back to playing my own songs, with a better appreciation of what having written them means to me.

cheerslove

paul

Life is Short. Make Music

2011-05-03T21:00:00.003-04:00

Dear Terra,

Larry was one of my heroes in high school. he was a year or two older, and very cool - elected chairman of the dance committee, lead singer in a R&B band - with matching suits.

i hadn't seen him since, nor heard anything about his life. we became Facebook friends around this time last year, when plans were hatched for a 60s & 70s high school reunion. i was hoping to see him there, but he didn't make it.

turns out he had had some terrible health problems, and lost both of his legs. i've just watched a video of him on his 60th, and last, birthday, singing "Stormy Monday", accompanied by an amazing trio of friends. it was beautiful.

i'm turning 60 next year.

go gently, Lar.

cheerslove

paul

A Project becomes a Primer

2011-05-02T20:09:00.006-04:00

Dear Terra,

not the best day to have my picture taken, having awakened with a bad case of stomach cramps, but we needed to get these done and sent off to Mariposa.

Sue came over to rehearse the shortened version of Blood and Fire: The Donnelly Project, which we have renamed "A Donnelly Primer". Deb took the pictures in front of our house, which dates back to almost the right period.

Mariposa have been announcing their line-up in bits and pieces for a while now, so i'm hoping that ours is coming, just so i'm sure i haven't been dreaming.

whenever we get hired for a big show, we like to perform it in front of a smaller audience first. even more necessary this time, since the shorter stage time (75 minutes, no intermission) means a very different show. this time it will be on a sunday afternoon in Barrie, in early June. so plenty of time to shine it up beforehand and to get the kinks out after.

cheerslove

paul

The Creative Imperative

2011-05-01T21:14:00.002-04:00

Dear Terra,

today i heard about 30 seconds of a CBC radio piece from Venezuela. the person they were speaking with was talking about each person having "a creative imperative" to do their best to make his/her life a work of art.

art is made every day. it can be astonishing, beautiful, monstrous in content or proportion, but the people who create it are the same species as those who don't, or think they don't.

i get a lot of props for writing, performing and promoting music. but i often find myself setting people straight when they congratulate me on my "talent" and claim that they could never do anything of the sort.

i do art because i love it, and i've been doing it long enough, and working at it hard enough, that i'm getting pretty good at it. and i love to spread the word, letting folks know what a joy it is, encouraging everyone to try a little, or devote their entire lives to creating bold new things.

we all have the ability to bring more beauty into the world. paint your house with four colours instead of two. plant flowers. sing harmony. put your niece's drawing in a frame. look at the world through a camera lens. design what you knit. make a video of the song your friend wrote. start a literary salon at the used book store. be enthusiastic. admire art. congratulate the artist, not on her talent but on her work.

cheerslove,

paul

Many call me "Morgan's Dad"

2011-04-30T22:27:00.004-04:00

Dear Terra,

speaking of working with young musicians...

last night was the Orillia Folk Society's monthly Fridayfolk concert, featuring a great double bill of Maria Dunn and John Wort Hannam. they were wonderful, of course, but another highlight for me was the opening act, a young woman from town, accompanied by her dad, with whom i have played numerous times at our weekly song circle.

i got more than a little nostalgic to see Laura and Peter on the same stage that i had shared with my beautiful daughter Morgan, about a decade and a half ago.

we were called "Morgansdad", because in those first several years in town, that is how i was known by the greatest number of Orillians. Morgan is the outgoing one in the family. the name was a bit tongue-in-cheek, but i never minded playing second fiddle to the bright light that is our firstborn. if i was Morgan's dad, i had to be pretty cool.

she has always loved music, and had been taking recorder lessons for years, and later took some piano. i don't remember whose idea it was to put together an act - i probably talked her into singing at Don's Coffeehouse in Hillsdale, waybackwhen, and then an opening gig at Fridayfolk and shared gigs around town. it didn't last long before she thought maybe it wasn't the coolest thing she could be doing.

she sang songs by Jewel (who also started out in a duo with her dad) and Alannis Morissette. she played recorder on my version of The Lady of Shallott. i can't remember if we did any of my songs. but i remember how good, how proud it made me feel, and what a joy it was. at one point last night, Peter suggested to the parents in the room, that if they ever got a chance to play music with their offspring, they should definitely do it.

hear, hear!

it was sad when Morgansdad was no more. but four or five years later, when she was sixteen, i did another Fridayfolk opener, with Morgan in the audience, and played this song for the first time:

NOT MY GIRL

you're growing older, my girl - so much so that you're not my girl anymore

your heart's in a whirl, you can't wait to find what's behind that door,

what's the final score

sweet sixteen's a myth, the world has carved on you a crooked smile

without me or with, you have had your very own style

for quite a while

you are your own woman now

i don't know when it happened, but somehow

you are your own woman now

now i lie here awake, listening for the turn of your key

just for my own sake. you could not be anything but free, from me

you are your own woman now...

you used to sing with your dad, in a duo, just like Jewel

i'd give everything i have for you to know life is anything but cruel.

now go to school.

even though you are your own woman now...

she came up from the audience, tears on her face, and gave me a hug, to the delight of all, but especially me.

so now it's ten years later, she lives two hours away and still hasn't returned to the stage. but she acquired a guitar, i show her stuff when we get the chance, and we talk music. alot.

and we will always have that golden fleeting moment when we were a duo and we made people smile.

cheerslove

paul

I'm Only In It for the Art

2011-04-29T16:21:00.003-04:00

Dear Terra,
isn't this a wonderful piece of graphic art? it was done by our friend Kim Campbell, and i'll be wearing it with pride on the black tee shirt i ordered last night.

artsU is an annual community-based event which takes place in the few days before the Mariposa Folk Festival in July. Mariposa and Orillia's Lakehead University are joint sponsors.

i've been involved since its inception, along with an incredible group of old and new friends, who have worked thousands of volunteer hours to help promote local artists and to spread the joy of making art.

this year i will be teaching two classes, one on basic guitar theory and the other on improving one's songwriting. also offerred will be classes in photography, painting, watercolour, printmaking, puppetry, movement, singing, instrumental improvisation, and home recording.

something for everyone. classes are inexpensive and open to all levels of skill and experience.

we are hoping to be more of a presence this year at the Festival itself, as we will have a tent in a prominent spot where we will hang out, talk art, and show off what the students came up with in our classes.

hope you can join us.

cheerslove

paul

Having Someone Else's Idea

2011-04-28T13:55:00.003-04:00

Dear Terra,
i wrote a couple of days ago about the dangerous Cult of Originality, and how i refuse to drink from that particular juice cup.

so when Mike Hill, head of the Artistic committee of the Mariposa Folk Festival, asked me for ideas of workshops i might like to be involved in, i suggested "Songwriters Under the Influence".

hopefully, volunteers for such a workshop would be those who readily admit being inspired and influenced by the songs of other writers. each performer would play a cover tune, immediately followed by a song they wrote as a (direct or indirect) result.

i sent Mike a couple of examples of what i might use myself:

1. "Gold in Them Hills" by Ron Sexsmith, followed by "Hang the Jury", the first of ten songs i would write about the Donnellys for my show "Blood and Fire".

Ron's song is one of my favourites of all time, and i was learning how to play it at the same time i had the idea of responding to Steve Earle's diatribe in song, "Justice in Ontario". Earle's basic premise was "Sure, Jim Donnelly was no angel, but he didn't deserve to die". my idea of responding was to write a song from the perspective of a juror in the first trial of the head of the vigilantes, which resulted in a hung jury - not a surprising result, when you consider the consequences of being persecuted by the vigilantes or the surviving Donnellys, had they come to agree on either conviction or acquittal.

"Gold in Them Hills" is a piano song, but i was working on it as a finger-picked guitar piece, and the first few simple notes of the intro/tag were solidly in my head - "d c b g a b g a b". so when i came up with the juror's first powerful line of song, "I did what I had to...", the melody was almost the same - "b d c b a b". a different melody suggested itself for the rest of the verse: "I've a wife and a family. The White Boys could slaughter us, like they did the Donnellys. The jury was hung - we couldn't decide/On truth and justice, and suicide", but it was Ron's music that inspired it all, and i'm very grateful to him.

2. "Dusty" or "Codeine" from Fred Eaglesmith's album "Dusty", followed by my "Ridin' the Fences".

i love Fred's music, but especially this album, which i learned in its entirety and covered often at our local song circle. so it was a great compliment when i played "Ridin' the Fences" one Monday night, someone asked who wrote it, and my good friend Jennifer said "Fred Eaglesmith".

the album is a masterpiece of Americana - Fred is very much a Canadian, but his images are usually evocative of places south of 49. "Dusty" and "Codeine" are stories of sad old cowboys. the character i assume in "Ridin' the Fences" is a younger version, but sad in his own way:

i'm talkin' to horses / there's no one around
only my voice / but i like the sound
like she never did / she'd cover her ears
i had her in town / now i got me out here

i'm ridin' the fences / i mend what i can
i stay on the far side / to feel like a man
the sun does some damage, and so does the rain
but the wind is the worst, and it gets in your brain

i'm singin' an old song, from i don't know when
and sometime tomorrow, i'll sing it again
unless there's a new one takin' its place
i had a woman / now i got me some space

i'm ridin' the fences...

i'm makin' the turn, headed for home
wherever that is, i don't even know
my favourite saloon / i'll be drowning the thought
that i had a woman / now i got me a bottle

i'm ridin' the fences...

the song has proven to be one of my very favourites to play. it helps that my wife loves cowboys, and would be one if given the choice in another life. in the back of my head, there's an idea for a project of cowboy songs for Deb. and we would owe it all to Fred.

cheerslove,
paul

Mariposa's Young Songwriters

2011-04-27T10:48:00.002-04:00

Dear Terra,

i mentioned yesterday that i would have to start hanging out with a younger crowd, i.e. one who wouldn't mind the way i "borrow" material from other writing, notably songs.

thing is, i've already done so. my good friend Aaron, pictured here, who not long ago was being mentored himself, has become a mentor to some brilliant young songwriters in Orillia. and he is speeding up the generational thing even more, by having these young folks teach songwriting at an upcoming event at the Leacock house.

so he asked me to design a workshop, using the four writers and myself to teach the basics and to lead writing exercises. when i sat down to do so, i was somewhat at a loss. i had team-taught in the past, but only with good friends whose writing styles and strengths were well known to me.

i prepared as well as i could, going over my material and possible exercises to use, but with very little idea how it would look in the end. as it turned out, i needn't have worried. the training session proceeded in much the same fashion as our writing - organically. as different as our approaches to writing may seem, this was a common thread: none of us write with a plan. we start with something we find interesting, and we grow it from there.

Aaron (different Aaron) realized it might be worthwhile for him to start with a lyrical idea, rather than picking up the guitar every time. so i suggested he lead "The Spider Game", where you start with an evocative word or phrase, circle it, draw "legs" from it, each with another word or phrase related to the first, and the same outward from each of those.

Tyler's advice to beginning writers related to the middle of the process: "if it's not working, try something else!" so we decided to exaggerate the idea. he will bring a well-know song to play, and the group will be asked to suggest new lyrics which would give the song an entirely different meaning. i hope this will open folks' minds to new possibilities- eg. a happy song can be written in a minor key; a sad song can have some rhythm to it.

Hayley starts with a musical idea, and when she starts writing lyrics, typically gets bogged down when a well-known phrase ("ships passing in the night") suggests itself and takes over. so i suggested she lead an exercise in "cliche-busting", ie. finding your own creative way to say the same thing without using trite, overused phrases. Aaron (the first) even gave an example where he alluded to a cliche through rhyme: "between the clock and your face" ("a rock and a hard place"). brilliant.

Chris is an amazing guitarist who writes tunes, not songs. how best to use him seemed like it would be the hardest part of all, but not so. it's very hard in these group sessions to do much work on music, strange as that may seem. but this was our opportunity - Chris would help each participant come up with a melodic idea for an essential phrase they had gleaned from Aaron's or Hayley's exercises.

i think it's going to be great.

cheerslove

paul

The Cult of Originality

2011-04-26T15:55:00.001-04:00

Dear Terra,

as promised, another day, another missive.

the song i sent you yesterday was one of two i wrote within a couple of days in early March, right after the last meeting of our writers` bloc. very unusual circumstance - most months i may write one song, and usually directly before the meeting.

i had been confused about the date of the next one - seems i had a year-old calendar on my wall. thinking that the session would fall on April 1, i invited folks to write a Fool`s song. the confusion was soon relieved, but wheels were already in motion in my brain.

i had also just heard a new duo called Spring Breakup, who formed for the express purpose of putting together a themed album around the idea that the breakup of river ice in the Yukon, where they were writing, often coincides with the breakup of relationships.

so i was starting with someone else`s idea. i have no problem doing that - i do it all the time, and try my best to reveal my sources. but it seems the idea is anathema to some songwriters.

and i didn`t stop at just borrowing the idea. the basic premise of the song i was thinking of was that couples are fooled into thinking that their love is forever, much the way that one might think a season will never end.

so the last line of the first verse turned out to be:
''We were fooled by a season, but never again, never again''
which led naturally to a rockin`chorus of:
''We won`t get fooled again, by endless dark or weather...''

The Who. i know.

and yes, i would have preferred to come up with something just as catchy but totally original. but i didn`t. and ''totally original'' is an impossibility in any case. it`s a trap. a cult.

i always warn my songwriting students of this. think about it - if you came up with any piece of music that didn`t fit some pattern that had already been done, it would be unlistenable, crap.

folks have this idea that ''creative'' people ''create'' like God - out of nothingness, zero history. it ain`t so. we are inspired by something out there, and try to make something else out of it, by using what`s in here.

The Cruellest Month

March came in like a lion, the wind roared

there were maples to tap, and rivers to ford, rivers to ford

soon out goes the lamb, in soft rain

we were fooled by a season, but never again, never again

we won`t get fooled again, by endless dark or weather

frozen skin a burning pain, winter looks like forever

but we won`t get fooled again

time for the breakup, the ice groans

i can only agree, here on my own, here on my own

what were we dreaming, in our little den

we were fooled by the fire, but never again, never again

we won`t get fooled again, by this endless river

that flows while standing still, love looks like forever

but we won`t get fooled again

April is the cruellest month, chaos is the rule

try to divine its wrath, you`ll be the first of fools

may the sun rise to meet you, full in the face

with the wind at your back, all of your days, all of your days

spring`s a beginning, spring is an end

we fooled ourselves, but never again, never again

we won`t get fooled again, lying together

the lion and the lamb, nothing is forever...

so i had a few weeks to play the song, get used to the idea that it wasn`t all mine. it seemed to work, and i thought it would be a good one for the band. took it to BADASS (the writers`bloc), and most liked it. except for a fellow who thought it was good except for the Who reference, and could not understand why i would even try to get away with it.

i may need to start hanging out with a younger crowd, folks who are used to sampling, mashups etc.

you can`t call it ''stealing'' when it`s such a well-known phrase. i like to think of it as an ''hommage''. i bet Pete and Roger and John and Keith would dig it.

will write again soon

cheerslove

paul

My Return from Nowhere in Particular

2011-04-25T10:25:00.003-04:00

T. LeMonde
Erehwyreve

2011 04 25

Dear Terra,
sorry i haven't written in so long. there's no excuse for it really - i've had very good news to share.

biggest is that Sue Charters and i have been hired to perform a shortened version of Blood and Fire - we're subtitling it "The Donnelly Primer" - at this year's Mariposa Folk Festival.

it's been a really interesting process to cut it down to under 75 minutes (and no intermission). i dropped two of the songs, and Sue is working at cutting the stories to about four minutes each, for an audience tuned to a weekend of songs. Sue has some great ideas for visuals and pacing, etc.

i've been lobbying my pals at MFF to get my name on at least one piece of publicity with that of Emmylou Harris, this year's headliner. i don't amass souvenirs as a rule, but that would be a keeper.

the day i heard she was coming was also International Women's Day. so i had to write an Emmylou-type song, from a woman's point of view:

Emmylou on the Radio

Emmylou is on the radio, tomorrow's the day to go
plough on through all this snow
with Emmylou on the radio

we're livin' on the edge of town, just like you said
livin' on the edge, and livin' on the edge of town

i dreamed of the big romance, i thought it was our best chance
but it was only a high school dance
then Emmylou on the radio

Emmylou is on the radio, tomorrow's the day to go
plough on through all this snow
with Emmylou on the radio

we're livin' on the edge of town, just like you said
livin' on the edge, and livin' on the egde of town

i could drive to Hollywood, sunshine would do me good
out from under this wedding hood
with Emmylou on the radio

Emmylou is on the radio, tomorrow's the day to go
plough on through all this snow
with Emmylou on the radio

we're livin' on the edge of town, just like you said
livin' on the edge, and livin' on the edge of town
livin' on the edge, and livin' on the edge of town

now all i need is a woman to sing it. it's a very simple melody, so i've tried to make a gift of it to my friend Amy, who loves and promotes roots music, including mine, but calls herself "not a singer". i won't give up , though. i know it's a dream of hers to perform.

wish me luck! i promise to write soon, and often. new leaf for spring!

cheerslove
paul

and then there was the antidote

2010-10-20T16:59:00.006-04:00

not that i was gun-shy or anything, after my last house concert experience, outlined in some detail on these pages, but i don't think i was in my usual "this should be good" frame of mind as i walked the few blocks to my friendly neighbourhood private venue.

punters were few and far between when i entered the music room, and i wondered if it were in any way a reflection of the previous experience. but hell, i was there - so maybe not.

any reservations were immediately dispelled when Ashley Condon walked to her stool and started talking with us. i swear it went on for twenty minutes, before she even thought about playing a song.

if i believed in such things, i would have thought she had been sent by the powers that be to soothe my savage breast. she was the perfect antidote: friendly, funny, engaging and interested in us. our small number didn't seem to bother her at all, and she put on a wonderful show. we felt free to comment whenever, sing along at will. she invited some of us to play with her - cello, guitar, harmonica.

afterwards we removed to the kichen where Ashley asked us to play some of our songs - these are arms which require little twisting - and listened long, although she had to be very tired.

i heard the next day that she had been sick all night and was not in good shape for her cd release in Toronto that night. i hope she got through it ok.

except for that last bit, i felt so good about the night, had my faith restored.

thanks Ashley. the rest of you should go see her if you ever get a chance. a guaranteed good time.

looking forward to the next one.

cheers!

performance: it's not "give AND/OR take"

2010-09-16T16:54:00.004-04:00

i'm not sure how i'm going to say this, or even if i should. i can imagine how some of my friends will react.

such is life.

so i went to a house concert the other night. i love house concerts - don't you? so warm and intimate, no barriers of microphones and speakers between you and the performer. the banter, the give and take can be so much fun.

and the lack of such barriers means a lovely opportunity for the performer as well - a chance to share your art and stories with new friends.

"share" being the operative word: "to participate in, use or experience in common".

the best concerts, in houses or halls, are not so much monologues as they are conversations, even if the audience isn't actually speaking. the performer is somehow in touch with our thoughts, conversant with them. we are part of what's going on.

the best performers can do that - break down the physical barriers of props and stages and large spaces, share an intimate experience despite the surroundings.

many more can't quite reach that state in an auditorium but do very nicely in a living room. they welcome the change, and they welcome us. they talk with, not at us. perhaps they change their set list when they perceive a link with a new friend's story.

well, the performer on this night was of a third type: aloof, wary, and not conversant with the other folks in the room. which was something of a surprise, after an early comment that by the end of the evening, we would know her quite well.

but it turned out not to be true at all. sure, she told us some intimate details of her life in story and song, hoping we would be titillated and mildly outraged. she wasn't sharing them with us - we weren't part of the equation at all. it would have been the same show, no matter which 20 people in all the world were in that room with her.

and when some of us tried to start a conversation around her songs, she was taken aback and shot us down with a sarcastic "Oh - is this the audience participation part?" she managed to create distance where there was none.

i'm still not sure what i want to say here. it was mostly an observation i've been musing on and felt the need to share. i left immediately after the concert, as i had to be up before the birds the next day. so i didn't get to speak to anyone else, or to the performer, for that matter. perhaps i might have gleaned a reason for her style. or perhaps not. it may be a very deep reason indeed - who is to know?

it's a very difficult thing for me to understand. i love an audience, and the more intimate the better. i've tried recording studio-style a few times, and i can't do it. so i record live shows, and damn the technical torpedoes - tough on the engineer, but he forgives me much.

in a perfect world, this performer would be able to make a living playing the medium-size shows i can see her being most comfortable with - stage, props, a little safe distance. i daresay i would have enjoyed her show more in that type of setting. and our living rooms would be visited by those suited best to it.

perhaps my expectations of house concerts are out of whack - is it wrong to assume that i will enjoy an intimate experience simply because it's an intimate space?

i'd love to hear your comments. i think.

movies of books are like Coles Notes

2010-06-10T13:48:00.005-04:00

so my new Project is all about writing songs inspired by books. last month saw the first instalment of paul's court: salon of the literary song in my backyard tent, where five of us spent an evening talking about songwriting and books we are passionate about.

next thing i knew, it was the day before our BADAS/S meeting (the other writers' group) and i didn't yet have a song. and whatever book i was reading at the time wasn't one to inspire a song.
what to do, what to do...

when in doubt, change your guitar strings. happens i had recently received two sets of strings in the mail from juststrings.com for my lap steel, in custom gauges for a Mel Bay tuning i had never been able to try with regular string sets. so i put them on, tuned it up, and voila! it sounded Hawaiian. as it should. had no idea how to play the thing, but one shouldn't let that discourage one.

hmm. maybe i could come up with something by tomorrow, given appropriate inspiration. hmm. Hawaii...

i drove immediately to the library (can't walk there anymore as they're rebuilding downtown, and the temporary [two years minimum, yikes!] site is in a disused bar on the highway bypass on the edge of town) and borrowed the dvd of From Here to Eternity. didn't have time to read the James Jones book, and besides, they don't have a copy anyway.

Deb and i watched the movie - she thought it an odd choice - and i had my ears pricked for delicious pieces of dialogue, of which there are many. i had to resist writing notes while watching, and i enjoyed it immensely. next morning - the day of the songwriters' group meeting - i got up early and watched again, this time taking copious notes - three pages of notes.

but whose story would i tell? i'm sure the most popular memory of the film is the beach scene with Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr. and Frank Sinatra's Oscar-winning performance of Maggio proved that he was the greatest singer/actor of all time.

but Montgomery Clift was my man. tragic, brooding, beautiful genius of a man. and the character of Private Prewitt!

it all fell into place as i began to literally cut and paste the bits of dialogue i had chosen. i thought about calling the song Talking to Prew, as for every two lines spoken by Prew, there were eight by, in order, the Sinatra character, the Lancaster character, and Donna Reed's Lorene/Alma.

it was also temporarily called The Treatment, relating to the hazing abuse suffered by Prewitt at the hands of the non-coms who were trying to force him back into boxing, which he refused to do after having blinded a mate in the ring. i later changed it to From Here to Eternity, on the advice of BADAS/S. i played it for them that night without saying anything, hoping that someone might catch the references, but evidently no one else had watched the movie twice in the last twenty-four hours, and they had no idea what it was about. so i'll have to remember to introduce the song a bit whenever i play it for folks.

and i still haven't figured out how to play the electric lap steel with the new tuning. what i ended up doing was playing it on the acoustic Hawaiian Steel, tuned only slightly differently than my usual CGCGCE, viz. CGCGAE. if you've ever wondered what makes that Hawaiian sound, that's it - the open chord is a C6.

From Here to Eternity

Buddy boy, you've made a big mistake
But from here, i can't quite reach ya
All they see in that uniform is a middleweight
Now you're in for the treatment / in for the treatment

Dress us up in civvies, we're as good as the rest
Hell - you played "Taps" at Arlington, for the President
So have some of this i got under my vest
You'll need it more than me when you're back with the treatment
back with the treatment.

But i ain't fighting
'though my war may start a little early

Advance, friend, and be recognized
No way you can win this event
You've seen tears flow from sightless eyes
And now you've seen the treatment
seen the treatment

You've fallen for some dame at the New Congress Club
I didn't know you had it in ya
You ain't enjoyin' life too much, are you kid?
And now she'll give you the treatment
give you the treatment

But i ain't complainin'
Man don't go his own way is nothin'

Don't tell me - the Princess is your style:
I'm Lorene, but my name is Alma
What do you know about pearl diving?
I didn't think you were a soldier
but you're a soldier

You're already married - to the Army
I got a stocking full, to buy a life that's proper
Nobody lies about being lonely
But i will never be the wife of a soldier
wife of a soldier

Now i'm leaving
I gotta turn off the light

please note that most of the words are not mine - i'll have to share credit with James Jones and the screenwriter.

if you happen to be in Orillia in the last two weeks before the Mariposa Folk Festival, take a walk down the main street to Manticore Books, where the wonderful Julianna Hawke will have built a display featuring the artists who will be teaching at this year's Mariposa ArtsU. my sixth of the display will be the fragments of how this song was built.

cheers!

My Late Husband by Roy Hickling, sung by Susan Braedley

2010-05-13T15:02:00.000-04:00

paul court: I Believe

2010-05-13T11:54:00.000-04:00

paul court: "Four Prayers"

2010-05-12T21:29:00.000-04:00

Shadows

2010-05-12T21:24:00.000-04:00

the project is dead. long live the project

2010-05-10T12:53:00.006-04:00

this is my drummer, Deb Gemmell, flanked by our kids, after the triumphant premiere of "Tiny Rehearsals" by Slim Chance and the Future Dead. the t-shirts were Morgan's idea and Dylan's work. they surprised us with them at the show.

it was the culmination of a six-month-long project i started with my brilliant friend Susan Braedley, previously mentioned in these pages as "Suse-my-muse". it was Deb's idea to invite songwriters Carol Teal and Roy Hickling to join us, and my idea to ask Deb to be the drummer.

i had been writing songs about and around death and mortality for a few years, being of an age closer to the end of my life than the beginning, and having people near me begin to die. i was also aware that my contemporaries had been following a similar path.

so i had a few songs, i surmised that Carol and Roy could glean a similar number, and perhaps we could write some over the course of the project in order to have enough for a full-length quasi-theatrical show.

i had no idea. when we first started getting together to discuss what might be used in the show, we realized that we already had a surplus of material and we would need to cull a significant number, especially if we found that we would need to write something specific to an idea that we felt should be included. one song was written specifically for the show - My Late Husband, wonderfully crafted by Roy and hilariously, beautifully sung by Susan.

i have written some on the process, the learning curve we needed to establish how the collaboration would work best. there were struggles indeed, to the point where it looked like the thing might be entirely derailed. almost died, you might say.

(insert cliche here)

yes, it made us stronger. we knew that we had a group of really powerful songs, and we had found a sequence that could flow beautifully throughout the evening.

the plan was to have a sort of script, some narration and dialogue which would bridge the gaps between songs, let us say something about where the songs came from, and to have some fun with.

that's where many of our troubles began. we were worried about having to remember lines, about being stiff doing it. we had lost the original notion, that it would be a loosely structured thing, and we would rely on our natural ability to pull it off with improvisation. but somehow we found our way back, mostly by reinforcing the idea that the structure rested on a solid foundation of good songs. all we needed to do was string them together with intelligence and humour.

the rehearsals got better, more relaxed. the arrangements got tighter, the playing more confident. we were having fun. the in-between banter almost got to be too much fun - we were all riffing on ideas, stepping on each other's lines. it was a happy mess. kinda like life.

in the midst of all this, Deb was prompting me to start planning the next project. no resting on laurels in this house. we hadn't even done the show - no laurels!

so i did, of course. not as easily as that. if you've read former posts, you may know how i've struggled in search of capital-P Projects. Deb knew that it would have to stew for a while, because that's how i work. i call it "organically". names don't matter much.

i hadn't written a song for a couple of months, and we were coming up to our monthly writers' group meeting. i had an idea to write something distilled from a book i had just read, Vancouverite Timothy Taylor's Story House. so i reread the book, making notes as i went, gradually getting a handle on how a song might evolve. and realizing why i needed to do this. i love to read, but i LOVED this book. i was passionate about it. books can do that to me.

at some point i realized this was more than a specific piece of work. it was the project. i would initiate a monthly salon - i've always wanted to do that, dreamed of Alexander Pope in my living room - for songwriters to share their similar passion. the idea seems diverting enough in itself, but i have no doubt that something more tangible may come of it. a show. a series of shows...

so last thursday's afternoon rehearsal, our last before the culmination of the Slim Chance project on saturday night, was followed immediately by the meeting of the Barrie and District Association of Singer/Songwriters and the unveiling of the song that started the new project.
we have overlap!

THE GODDESS, THE ANGLER, AND THE COUNTERFEITER'S WIFE

she comes to me through broken dreams
behind her wrecking ball
the goddess moved a house of glass / up a hillside wall

her crow-black hair; her pale skin; her slenderness belies
the power she holds over me / behind the steely eyes

a third of me surrenders / and i am that much more
she's introducing chaos / my knees are on the floor

another came from paradise / to be my fishing guide
the angler calculates the sea / how far, how deep, how wide

theories fail, and fishing too / she could not catch a king
forgot the rule of tension / explaining everything

a third of me surrenders / i am pierced, seen through
she's introducing order / the past is nothing new

i went to her, there was no choice / the counterfeiter's wife
as we spoke, she nursed her twins / and in my room i cried

anger fades unwillingly / her hair the only blaze
she was the smart one / the one who stayed away

a third of me surrenders / any one can drive
the goddess, the angler, / the counterfeiter's wife.

and then the show saturday. it went very well. we played well, sang well, did fine with the dialogue. even Deb did great under the lights - she was cringing at the thought of being in the glare - i have no idea how she even agreed to do it - but she managed to have at least as good a time as the rest of us.

i was very proud of what we had accomplished together. but i was also excited to let leak at every opportunity that the new project would begin immediately...

i figure i can rest when i'm dead.

130 Years Later, and i'm Still At It

2010-02-04T13:37:00.005-05:00

Today is the 130th anniversary of the Donnelly massacre. so here i am, late again, but drawn back by a significant date in Canada's history, the stories of which continue to be central to my "career" as a happy amateur, and to my life.

my writers' group happens to be meeting tonight, and when pal Scott pointed out the coincidence of the date, i decided to revisit the project and try to come up with Song Number 11.

now, by the time i finished writing Number 10, i had reached some kind of quota. the last few had been difficult, as i was less motivated to tell those stories than i had been in the beginning, when my desire to tell the tales i had been immediately struck with amounted to something of a compulsion. and Susan was working on the stories, and could fill any obvious gaps with narrative.

Number 10 was also a departure, being written from my own point of view, 100 years after the Lucan story. it was also the last song of the show and cd. i was looking to the past, but stepping back into the present, literally out of the story.

so i started skimming through Ray Fazakas' book The Donnelly Album, which i used almost exclusively for my research for the Project. i was hoping for, and expecting, i think, something to jump out at me - something i had been considering earlier, or perhaps something i have been moved by in Susan's stories.

and it was the latter which happened. Susan touches on the story of William Donnelly's star-crossed love for Maggie Thompson, daughter of a sworn enemy, and how he had tried, with a posse of men, to take her by force. Old Thompson had spirited her away, and managed to keep them apart for years, 'til Will finally married another.

in the book i found The Letter - not hearsay, or paraphrase, but a photograph of the actual letter which Maggie had written to Will on Christmas Eve 1873, having snuck off to the Post Office in Offa, and which invites Will to come and take her away by force.

December 24th, 1873

William Donnelly

Dear friend,

I adress you with these few lines to let you know I am well, and hopes you are enjoying the same blessing. I wish to let you know a little about the performance I had to gp through since i came up here. My friends herd all about me writing Letters to you, which caused an awfull storm, so that I could not ask to go any where, and on that account you will please excuse me for not writing to you. Dear William, I would rather be in the grave than at home, at preasant, for the way my people abused me on your account hinders me of ever forgiving them. I will never have anything like a chance of fulfilling my promise of marriage to you except you came and take me away by force, and if you think as much of me now as you did always I trust you will relieve me before long, and if not you will please send me my Letters to Offa P.O., and i will try to put up with all. I burnt your Letters when they commenced to abuse me about you, for they would shurly get them, if I did not do something with them. Excuse my bad writing, for I am in an awfull hury, as it is in the office I am writing it. No more at preasant from your loving friend

Margret Thompson

pretty powerful. so i have my subject. how do i turn it into a song? my first idea was that i would have to paraphrase Maggie's words, so that they could fit some sort of song structure and rhyme scheme.

i got out my trusty DIY Gathering notebook and wrote the letter on the left-hand pages, with lots of space for notes, and the sentences (some of them DO run on, don't they? i picture her rather breathless, scribbling those intense words in the post office) broken into song-line type lengths. i would write my paraphrased lines on the right-hand pages. i was planning to be as faithful as possible to the original.

the next day, when i went to make a start, i had a revelation: "as faithful as possible to the original", is, of course, the original. the more i read and re-read the letter, the more attached i was to it as a discrete, important thing. i was no longer willing to change the letter to suit my purposes as a songwriter.

very noble i'm sure. but WHAT THE HELL AM I GOING TO DO NOW?

i read the letter out loud. i read it into my Zoom H2 recorder and listened to it. i realized the obvious: language is music. i knew that. melody, rhythm, dynamics. music.

what if i simply exaggerated the language? stretch out the melody, accentuate the rhythms, add necessary pauses, both for affect and for purposes of performance, amplify the dynamics.

so i tried it. sat down with the mountain dulcimer in my lap, and wrote out the notes to a melody which approximated the rise and falls of natural language in the letter.

there is no song structure for the listener to get a hold of. there are no rhymes. the rhythm shifts from 4/4 to 6/8 in one of the run-on sentences. and, truth be told, despite the exaggeration, the melody is pretty monotonous.

i know it's not up to performance standards, but i'm still excited to share it tonight with my fellow writers, see what they think, hear their ideas.

and then i'm going to continue to work on it, and hopefully present it as a proper song (without rhymes - a stretch for me) at next month's meet.

it's going to be a lot of work, which i've already begun. the first attempt was not wasted at all, even though i don't have a performance piece to show for it. as i became more intimate with the nuances of the letter and more adept at singing the non-song that it is, finding more rhythm and natural pauses, i realized that a song was possible.

i broke the letter into three, and printed the separate pages. lo and behold, there were definite parallels. without too much tweaking, i saw that i could fit the pieces of the entire letter into two or three musical parts, with an added or subtracted line here and there, vocal lines replaced by instrumental, etc.

i even wrote the melody and (almost) fit the words for the first four lines of each of the three parts. turns out that was a teaser, definitely the easiest. "I adress you with these few lines"="I would rather be in the grave". couldn't get any easier than that.

and it doesn't. but it's a very cool and worthwhile challenge, and i'm looking forward to it.

i feel it, i see it, i write it

2009-12-03T10:42:00.009-05:00

writing songs is seldom easy, but some are easier than others.

i wrote an easy one this week. what made it easy was the announcement of a big event - the engagement of two of my very best friends.

big event, big emotions. big fuel for creativity.

but how is that well-fuelled creativity to be focussed? in my case, it's usually through visual imagery. and what could be more easily visualized than a wedding?

not to say that my friends' wedding will look much like anything i see in my head. they are both very creative folks themselves, brilliant writers and performers, and are likely to come up with something unusual to mark the beginning of their marriage. they're on tour at the moment, so i've had no conversation, no inkling of what they might have in mind.

cool. lots of room for licence.

i started writing in the first person, from the groom's perspective. not the first time i've written in my friend's shoes. i visualized him/me standing at the front of the church, half-turned to watch his bride:

i'm standing / you're walking / on the arm of another man

can you tell it's in waltz time? my default rhythm, but this time, it was actually planned, as later i foresaw their first dance.

it also has other possible meanings, if i don't announce beforehand that it's a wedding song. one might be more likely to take the first line as the start of a heartbreaker.

i'm not sure at what point i grasped that i would use those "-ing" verbs, whatever they're called, throughout, but it's typical of my style - i like to give myself some structure early in the process, a trellis on which to grow the song.

i'm waiting / for that moment / you're beside me / here we stand

okay, now they're standing together. how are they standing, geographically and metaphorically? paint the picture:

we're standing / and listening / our backs toward the past

we're speaking / promises / in light through coloured glass

the minister is another friend, which helps to solidify the image.

time for a refrain. they're saying their vows. it's a time of joy. the phrase "say it out loud" punched it's way into my head. i also needed to bring in the gathered mass of friends and family. i had thought of the word "throng" but almost immediately rejected it as unwieldy. but a rhyme with "loud" in line two would be a natural for "crowd"

i take you, will you take me / before this witnessing crowd?

another -ing word.

and what about the crowd, and how to set up the last line? this one was a gift from the muse i think - a perfect double-meaning which gives you both the image of the throng, and perhaps the feeling of not-quite-sure among them. this is not the first marriage for either, and some of us are not sure they really need to make it legal. but we love them, celebrate their insistence that it's what they want, and wish them luck.

they're waiting at a distance / so say it out loud

so now they're together, instead of doing separate "-ing" things:

promising / we are promising / our voices will be heard

i initially had the urge to make a reference to their professional aspirations "the most promising..." but it felt forced, so i kept it simple.

i'm kissing / you are kissing / the lips that speak the words

again, i had the last line first, so found a rhyme in "heard" that echoed what they were saying in the refrain.

i don't think i've ever written about kissing, and it was difficult to sing the first few times, but it had to be in there, yes?

okay, they have to walk up the aisle now. but i'm thinking about leading it towards the last verse, where the "-ing" word will be "dancing". my buddy will be walking. but maybe the bride is a bit lighter on her feet, more willing to show the joy she feels:

i'm walking / you're dancing / the path that you came in

but what's changed? everything. so sum it up:

you're holding / my arm now / so it begins

refrain, then some instrumental space - the verse - to feel the waltz. the first dance.

we're dancing / alone for now / before this witnessing crowd

i cheated - used a line from the refrain in the verse - breaking the rules to end with a bang...

beaming / with their brights on / living out loud

refrain. repeat refrain. repeat last line, twice.

SAY IT OUT LOUD

i'm standing / you're walking / on the arm of another man

i'm waiting / for that moment / you're beside me / here we stand

we're standing / and listening / our backs toward the past

we're speaking / promises / in light through coloured glass

i take you, will you take me, before this witnessing crowd?

they're waiting at a distance, so say it out loud.

promising / we are promising / our voices will be heard

i'm kissing / you are kissing / the lips that speak the words

i'm walking / you're dancing / the path that you came in

you're holding / my arm now / so it begins

i take you, will you take me, before this witnessing crowd?

they're waiting at a distance, so say it out loud

we're dancing / alone for now / before this witnessing crowd

beaming / with their brights on / living out loud

i take you, will you take me, before this witnessing crowd?

they're waiting at a distance, so say it out loud

i take you, will you take me, before this witnessing crowd?

they're waiting at a distance, so say it out loud

so say it out loud

say it out loud.

now here's a thing. i started with a very simple, what i like to think of as stately, melody in my head. when i had the outline for the verse and refrain, i picked up the guitar, tuned down to my favourite, almost-unique-to-me tuning, DADEAD, and started strumming the few chords i've figured out. but that's the trouble with being an underachiever on your instrument - the limitations of what your fingers can do further limits what your song will be.

but damn! i'm in the middle of a song here. no time to update my chops.

and here's another thing. writing a song to a purpose like this is a challenge, like any song, but let's be real. everyone - no, almost everyone - one must take into account the envious and the song snobs - will love this song. you've taken the time to create something for someone (sometwo), and infused it with love and meaning. it's a very special thing.

so the pressure's off. it doesn't have to be the best song ever written. go with what you've got.

which is, in this case, a simple melody on a waltz beat, with lots of droning space.

mountain dulcimer - what i call my "instrument for all occasions" - funerals, parties, weddings.

so i write it on the dulcimer, and it's okay. good enough.

then Deb finds the lyric on the table at breakfast, reads through and highly approves. i agree that the words are very good, but the music is less than unique, i've opted to drone along on the dulcimer in my usual style.

"so change instruments" "nah, it's done".

never say "never". after having written out the song here, i thought "what the hell?" (a common thought for me) and tried it again in DADEAD. and you know what? it works. it's bigger, fuller, more interesting, more joyful.

she's done it again. thanks Deb!

How does this thing work?

2009-10-15T19:36:00.002-04:00

"When you haven't done this kind of group project before, it's kind of uncomfortable and you don't know how to be. So everyone tries on different behaviours and styles. Those of us who have done lots of it know it will all swirl around and then settle eventually, as we work into our roles in the group. And you can't pick your role so much as it is given to you, taken away, changed and on and on. I like it, but i like adventures into the unknown and have done enough of it to trust process over product, while others drive the process with anxieties over product - that usually happens too, and it's all good, in my book, and what makes the project happen. Anyway, a blog on this would be interesting - not enough people reflect on HOW things happen - they just focus on what happens or what results. I think the "how" is the most interesting..."

this was the first thing i read this morning, after a well deserved lie-in following a very successful evening of collaboration with my four cohorts. my closed-eye coffee-drinking-in-bed thoughts had included "i should write a blog post today on how the project is going". not that i knew. i write to find these things out. but it's lovely to have one of said cohorts ask the pertinent questions to get me on track, and in such a timely manner.

it's an example of the upside of this collaboration we've begun. it's mostly upside, by the way, but, like life, it's the struggle that makes things interesting.

last night, my struggle was with my anxiety to get to the product, while the process was happening right there, offerring all kinds of fun. and i managed to keep it at bay, mostly, while also fulfilling my role, which i both chose and had chosen for me, to clarify some things, mostly for my own sake, but for the group as well.

there was such a great vibe happening, ideas upon ideas, folks free to follow tangential stories about and around the work we're doing. as much as i wanted to get to MY things, i knew that all these off roads were important and necessary, and the more i let it happen, the more obvious it became.

my struggles in getting to that point were something like a nation's collective vision of democracy, the trap of thinking that our equality makes us the same. i started this project, inspired by Susan. i asked her to join me in it. then Deb told me about her latest book project, putting it together with the aspiring designers under her wing, and i thought "Yes!" and we decided Carol and Roy would be a likely pair to bring on board. Suse thought it an excellent idea, and Deb agreed to come along as well, adding that "big picture" thing she sometimes sees so well. she and Susan both love Process.

and then we were five. a democracy, right? i had trouble at our first meeting, as i tried to step back and be just one of the Five, all equal and the same, on the road to something that would be a collective experience, a Pie of Five Equal Pieces.

Pie in the sky. life isn't like that, nor democracy, nor groups of artists making art.

Carol was part of my last project, but not 'til the writing was done - she sang one of the songs written from a woman's perspective in the show and on the cd for me. she is a lovely friend, and so passionate - especially when she gets on stage. Roy i've collaborated with on a couple of fun things for our DIY getaway weekends, and his songwriting, painting and sculpture have all amazed me. he is also the nicest guy in the world. Susan is a master of group work and the written word, knows me inside and out, and is so generous with it that it hardly scares me at all. Deb is my butt-kicker, mistress of the well-timed nudge, wink, or when necessary, kick. she is a brilliant sideways-thinker and regularly produces pieces of beauty while making it as easy as possible for others to also make them for themselves.

Bob's yer uncle, right? put these five people in a room together and wonderful things will occur, effortlessly and immediately.

strenuously and eventually, more like. i have no doubt that this thing we're doing is going to be great. but i have been surprised, in my naiivete, how difficult it has been to find my way.

while i tried to immediately make it "Our Project", others were seeing it as being a part of "paul's project". so while they were looking for a measure of leadership, i wasn't giving it. and i was expecting instant equal ownership, and of course not getting it.

so last night was a giant step, roles becoming clearer, a structure (which some of us need more than others) making it's way through the fog. and such creative ideas to riff on - not just songs and their writing, but arrangements, visuals, lighting, stories, and the audience experience.

so what's my role? i just had a vision of a cowboy out on the range, sat on a horse, holding a lariat, enjoying the dogies' play, but makin' dang sure they don't fall off that cliff. but i want to be a dogie too.

how 'bout the designated driver? then we're all the same species anyway. i drive us from one fun spot to another, taking it all in, enjoying and joining their forays into mirth and wonder, taking notes and getting us home in the end, where i can let loose if i want. the end of the road will be the performance of Tiny Rehearsals, and i will then more than make up for a few months of DDing.

there's probably a thousand better metaphors for it. i bet one of my collaborators could help me with that.

IT'S A LAUNCH!

2009-09-15T14:17:00.004-04:00

nine weeks since my last post. once again, my apologies. but i have big news, and worth the wait i hope.

the new project, which i didn't want to jinx last time by spilling the uncooked beans, is now officially a "Go", and i'm very excited about it. i owe it all to the aforementioned Suse-my-muse, who, it seems, had a plan all along when she gave me the book "Nothing to Be Frightened Of" by Julian Barnes.

i had been writing songs about and around death and certain aspects of spirituality, for want of a better word, without seeing the big picture. all the time i was trying to find an idea for a project, i was already working on one. this one.

so the first thing i thought was that Suse and i should do it together, from day one. the Blood and Fire show had been a collaboration as well, but not until half of the songs were written. but at some point - i have no recollection of how it came up, but would be willing to concede full credit to Susan - we decided to enlarge the collaboration by bringing in other songwriters and musicians, from the get-go.

we talked about who would be best, to work with, play with, who would create and perform with the most passion. that was easy, and to our great joy the three we picked jumped on board with exactly the enthusiasm we had counted on.

Carol is a songwriter who loves to be on stage, who sings and moves with panache. she vamps with a boa - and gets away with it. and she writes hilarious songs, as well as deep and heartfelt ones. it was obvious we were going to need some light moments in a show about life and death.

Roy is a multimedia star - a brilliant painter, sculptor and inventor as well as being an incredible songwriter with his own vocal and guitar style. we are hoping to add some visual elements to the show, and the ideas are already popping.

Deb is also an artist - one of the country's top knitting designers, and potentially a great drummer, 'though we're having to drag her out of the closet to do it. i was shocked and very pleased that she agreed to do it.

actually, all three are artists. i skipped the fact that Carol is a wonderful potter. no wonder we had so many great ideas for visuals when we met at Roy's farm yesterday.

Susan is the overseeing angel - a brilliant writer who travels in lofty academic circles but who has just as much passion for her home, her friends, and their respective passions. she writes songs for the love of it, and has recently renewed her intimate aquaintance with the piano.

Susan is the one who gets the big picture - she already has a very strong idea of what this is going to look and sound like, and will be great at integrating the disparate parts into a whole.

the songwriters have a number of existing songs that would suit the theme - we are all of an age to have been exploring our mortality - but we hope also to write at least a couple of numbers en masse.

the way we see it at this point is a series of short sets of songs and narrative, which we are calling "scenes", each exploring an aspect of death, including life.

our first meeting went well enough to get us on the same Page One, i think. i was unusually apprehensive, and thereby reticent. my friends around the table were wondering what was up. i couldn't explain it immediately, but soon realized that the difficulty i perceived was about sharing. it seemed a wonderful idea at the time, sitting on Susan's porch, to make this a project of five collaborators. but i had no idea how that was supposed to work. i wanted a true collaboration, equal ownership of credit and responsibilities. but i also had some ideas, vague as they might be presently, of what i wanted it to be. i didn't want to be deferred to at every step, but i had some fears about losing the bottom line.

it will be okay, i think. i will feel a lot better at our next session, which is all about the music, the most crucial part of the show. after that bit of fun, we will have a much clearer diirection and sense of just what this thing is that we've initiated.

we've given ourselves a deadline to be ready to do the show - February 2010, so we don't get lost trying for perfection. and we will do it all ourselves - no side players, singers or artists. there's enough talent in our wee pool to put on a decent show. this last topic made for some lively discussion - wouldn't you want the best players to ensure the best show?

Susan and i had discussed this on her porch. we are proud and happy to be amateurs, on stage and in this life. amateur: from the Latin, amator, "lover".

so, if you're around, come and see some happy lovers singing and talking about Life, Death and the whole dang shootin' match, next february.

the band is called Slim Chance and the Future Dead.

the show is "Tiny Rehearsals".

in search of THE PROJECT

2009-07-07T20:49:00.002-04:00

holy moly, i must start with an apology again. sorry if you've been checking in for nothing new. i have been busy, searching in vain for MY NEXT PROJECT.
and i have realized what i should have known from the beginning: if you go searching, you're sure not to find it.

doing the Blood and Fire project was a beautiful experience, from beginning to uh, middle - can't say "end", as it continues to thrive. but almost as soon as the writing was over, i was looking for the next one. mistake.

you see, the Project didn't start out as the Project. it started with a song, inspired by another song which screamed at me to write a rebuttal. a few years later, it was still just a song. a good song, and people responded well to it. a few asked if i had others up my sleeve.

then my buddy Kevin Kelly gave me a couple of things - the definitive book (my blog, my opinion) on the subject, "The Donnelly Album", and an Appalachian mountain dulcimer. he liked the original song, thought i might like to read a bit more on the subject. the dulcimer he inherited by being the only one in his guitar store to know what the hell it was when a lady dropped it off, hoping for a good home. thanks lady - it's safe and well cared for.

one obsession, a year, and nine songs later, i had the music for the Project. there was a song played on the dulcimer. there was a song called "Kevin Kelly's Lament for Bridget Donnelly". not surprisingly, they are my two favourite songs in the show. thanks Kevin.

so it worked out very well for me. only natural that i should think that perhaps i should do it again. what i didn't take into account was how much serendipity had been involved in making the first one happen.

i thought all i needed was a subject that i felt the same way about, ie. a Canadian story to be told in more detail than most folks had been taught.

and i thought i had it - The Group of Seven! interesting characters, revered and villified for their groundbreaking portraits of the Canadian landscape. mysterious deaths, love triangles, performance art in women's tights...

so i started reading, just like with The Donnelly Album. not.

after a few weeks of perusing some very interesting stories and anecdotes, and revisiting some of my favourite paintings, i realized it was only an academic exercise. there was no way i would be able to write a project with my lukewarm response to the material.

i had been grasping at straws, instead of being grabbed by the balls. i won't say i was wasting my time, but i would have enjoyed the paintings and stories more had i not been trying to suck some inspiration out of them.

it's like the muse thing - if you wait for her to show up, you're screwed. if you try to force her to show herself, you're screwed. you have to show up yourself, write for the sake of writing, find inspiration in the everyday, be patient with the BIG STUFF.

i knew that. so what the hell was i doing?

ah well, better late than not at all. i relaxed, got back to writing one song at a time, tried to be ready should the big one appear in its glory.

and something happened. there's no way i could tell you without it turning in to a much bigger thing than it was. it was huge and tiny at once. enough to weave a thread through my next few songs. natural enough. i was going through something, i wrote about it.

then it was my birthday. lunch backstage at the Mariposa Folk Festival, my beautiful friend Susan, whom i call Suse-my-muse, because she is (and she calls me her "party spirit", because i am), gives me a book. not a book. THE book. this book, one, makes me realize that i have already begun The Project, and two, is full of thousands of ideas which i could riff on to complete many projects.

i'm trying to be calm as i read through it. i'm not marking it, but i will the second time through, which i know will begin as soon as i'm done the first read.

i am also not telling you what the Project is, because i am extremely superstitious when it comes to these things. and a little abashed after telling some folks that The Group of Seven thing was happening.

wish me luck.

writing en masse

2009-05-20T14:30:00.004-04:00

first, my apologies for being absent lo these forty days and nights. i had a flood of things going on. still, no excuse.

Jen asked at our last BADAS/S meeting if i would be free the following thursday to run a songwriting workshop with a grade eight class in Elmvale, through Stellula Music in the Schools. i checked my schedule and jumped at the opportunity - to do what i love, and get paid for it.

i had no idea what to do, of course. an hour-and-a-half at the end of a school day with a large group of 13-year olds? daunting to say the least. i couldn't do any of my usual gigs in so short a time, and it sounded like the teacher, Mrs. Blue (!) wanted hands-on work, especially with language.

i mulled. same way i write songs - let a stone of an idea roll around in my head until it picks up some moss that can grow into something. didn't have to roll very far, as the answer was right there - the songwriter's brain.

each of us in the class (the music portable, or "skull") would be a separate part of the brain of the writer coming up with a song. kids with different strengths and personalities could each make their contribution.

they hadn't learned about the workings of the brain, so i invited them into three groups - the creative side, the organizing side, and the messengers integrating the two.

we started with a phrase - after a couple of silly suggestions from the opening exercise (where they wrote one page, stream-of-consciousness style - my usual place to start), a young lad came up with a brilliant line - "I wish i were a ghost".

Jennifer took charge of the lyricists, and i the composers, with a talented girl sat at the piano. Mrs. Blue had the list-writers working on rhymes and the restless boys keeping us to our 4/4 rhythm.

and we almost got it finished in ninety minutes - three verses of a pretty cool lyric, a melody that was intricate enough that i had a hard time learning it right away, and a fitting dirge-like chord structure.

we had no time to talk about editing, which was fine because it is literally the last thing you want to do when you're busting your creative gut. but the song was missing the last few lines, and we hadn't figured out whether it would be resolved, and if so, into what.

i kept working on it that evening, but didn't really come up with anything until i put it aside and relaxed against the pillow.

the end breaks the pattern of the previous verses, in order to resolve the work.
see what you think:

I WISH I WERE

i wish i were invisible
i wish i were a ghost
i could walk through walls
when all my doors are closed

ghosts are never hungry
ghosts are never scared
ghosts don't do a thing they're told
even if they're dared

i wish i were a dragon
breathing fire through air
i could live forever
and never have to care

dragons don't say "sorry"
to any they despise
dragons do just what they want
and don't apologize

i wish i were a hero
to each day save a life
using superpowers
through all my days and nights

a hero never skips a day
a dragon never sleeps
a ghost is mostly dead
but i am what i can be
i am what i can be.

looking at it, i realize that i got into their brains more than they did mine. if you had never spent any time with a latent teenager, you would now have a pretty good idea what goes on in their heads.

and they said it very well. i hope they like the changes i made. i altered a few words, mostly for rhythm and rhyming purposes, as well as deciding how to end it.

i recorded it the next night at Don's place, and i'm just waiting while he works out a slide guitar part as the finishing touch. then i can deliver it to the school and wait to hear what they think.
maybe they will perform it at their graduation next month.

and hopefully Jen will have some new recruits for her songwriters' club at the high school across the road in September.

thanks for hangin' in and comin' back.

what shall i write about?

2009-04-10T18:26:00.002-04:00

we had our writers' bloc meeting last night. after the songs were played and critiqued, pal Susan led us through an exercise taken from Julia Cameron's The Right to Write.

it's a simple way to find out what you're presently, or generally, interested in. if you're asking yourself what in the world you should write about, it can be very revealing.

here it is:

1. Which three topics do you most read about?
2. Which three topics do you most think about?
3. List five of your favourite books.
is/are there (a) theme(s) running through them?
4. List five of your favourite movies.
themes?
5. What is your favourite fairy tale?
what makes it your favourite?
6. What was your favourite book as a child?
what makes it your favourite?

take a few minutes for each point. don't agonize over your choices - go with your gut. then go through them all and find the threads of what interests you and moves your imagination.

when in doubt, those are the things you should write about.

my common threads were crime, love, and history. duh!

enjoy. let me know if it worked for you.

WELCOME TO MY BRAIN

2009-03-23T14:15:00.004-04:00

this is the fair and mighty Alyssa, a brilliant cellist, singer and songwriter, and a great friend. she volunteered to lead an exercise at the last meeting of our songwriters' group (B.A.D.A.S/S.), and it was a beaut.

it was taken from Laraine Herring's Writing Begins With the Breath - embodying your authentic voice.

Lyssy asked us first to write freely for fifteen minutes on one of the assigned prompts (no choice - do what you're told):

1. When i am at a crossroads, I...

2. Change means...

3. Fear means...

4. Risk means...

this was just to get us started. we would not have to share any of this with the group.

i got number two. i will share with you, so you might see how my mind works on things in the very early stages. i like to call it "thoughtbusting":

future collapses with each breath, each step, each going in to, fray or glory or both. others change you - you change for others. others of mothers you'd like to be brothers. your family grows, CHANGES, new roles that are old roles changed.

underline words go ahead in thought and deed and spreading whatever light you can generate, from the change in your energy. flat tire, barbed wire, sailing calm and beaten by wind, take your shoes off, get a grip, and change what you thought would be.

but it's not good when it takes other folks to point out that you've changed. jaysus, figure it out, you're the one living with yourself, get a grip and get on out.

out is where you figure out where you want to be, caught in a web of friends so when you go in to colour your skin show the world the change is free

and 15 minutes is up.

Lyss then asked us to identify an abstract idea, to be turned into a concrete image which we would expand on for another fifteen, this time to share with the group.

abstract: change is inevitable. go with it

concrete: change is a river.

crash and fall, return to the mother, a home for the fleet of fin and diggers who go without breathing. at the end of it all you know is the sea, no coming back after the flood.

it's the moon again, chains the tide and marks the days with its comings and goings, waxing, waning, disappearing on the change.

how can one not move on, in the country of seasons? everywhere is proof of faith, things die and regenerate to days of glory and sun-scudded sky

and 15 minutes is up.

a simple and brilliant exercise, and one that i will certainly borrow for my classes and workshops. if you only had time for one, this would be it.

it covers so much - abstract, concrete, free flow and more thoughtful writing, private and public.

one thing we realized was that the prompts weren't important in themselves, and were almost interchangeable. but it's good to have an assignment to give you some focus. it's much easier to write something than it is to write anything.

reworking

2009-02-20T19:10:00.005-05:00

as a rule, i don't rework my old songs, but i think it's time to try.

my book of songs is split in two, basically the good and the not-so-good. i was surprised to find the one i'm thinking of in the front half. i don't play it often, because it seems to fall flat when i do. but i think its potential is what made me put it with the "good". i really want it to work.

it's a song i wrote from my wife's perspective, a rather ambitious notion at the time, and a bit of a stretch. risk is good.

it started with a simple, killer chorus, the main idea:

"Don't say goodnight - say everything is gonna be all right".

and there's the problem. i'm an acoustic roots player, and it's a rock chorus. hell, even now i can hear the explosive horn section.

when i look at the song as a whole, it's pretty good. maybe what i need to change is HOW, not WHAT. do it more gently, without the bombast i hear in my head. hey, it's cheaper than hiring a backup band every time i want to play that one song.

and it's supposed to be from Deb's point of view. she's not the rockin' shout-it-from-the-rooftops kind of gal. it should suit her style as well as tell something of her story.

it's entirely possible that the lyric will need reworking as well, once it's done differently. probably best to try it out, see if it simply FEELS better, and then adjust the words to better fit the new mood. yes. i think so.

hey, thanks for listening. you've been a great help. if you've got another 3:47 to spare, close your eyes and listen to this. tell me what you think.

"The walls are spinning madly off in every known direction
The sanity that's with me still is in need of your protection
It won't take much to help me out, love and trust and patience
A few words at the right time could be my salvation
Don't say goodnight - say everything is gonna be all right

The book i write consumes me, i'm disappearing ink
Omen crows and deadlines loom in shadows, i can't think
The geometric tangle is of my own design
Life and Art don't imitate, here they intertwine
Don't say goodnight - say everything is gonna be all right

I know the work is worth it
Its beauty i conceive
I know my life is better still
Still i don't believe

Sometimes i forget to breathe, colours pull me in
A sea of grace so deep, i sink until i swim
And swim until i'm grounded on your foreign shore
Lift me up and take me home, and promise me once more
Everything is gonna be all right
Everything is gonna be all right
Everything is gonna be all right."

this just in...

2009-02-10T10:36:00.003-05:00

breaking news from the Mariposa Folk Festival front, where the battle is ever waged to bring the best of entertainment and education to an expanding demographic.

this year, for the first time ever, you can get an early start on a great festival by taking part in Mariposa Arts U, two days of fun and creative classes with experienced, friendly instructors.

two sessions each are scheduled in Singing, with the entirely wonderful Alyssa Wright, and in Photography. single sessions are offered in Printmaking with the very accomplished Juliana Hawke, and in Songwriting, with none other than... me.

i'm very excited to be a part of this. the committee getting it together is fantastic - hard-working, dedicated, and positive. co-sponsors Mariposa and Lakehead University are heavy hitters in Orillia's cultural scene. the dream is to expand over the next few years to become a major summer school of the arts.

it's a case of being in the right place at the right time. in my last post, i mentioned the triumphant return of Mariposa to its original home, forty years after it began. i was part of a folk band called Alex, which morphed into the Orillia Folk Society, and whose members were the driving force behind discussions which led inexorably to the festival's return to Orillia.

i can't take much credit for that. while most of the band was involved in The Big Show, and all the bureaucracy that entailed, others of us were happy to grow the folk society, hanging out at weekly song circles and discovering the best of Canadian folk talent at our monthly concerts.

when Mariposa returned in 2000, the folk society offerred equipment and personnel to run the Open Stage. soon after, we were asked to put on songwriting workshops at the Interactive Stage. what would become Arts U was the dream of a wonderful woman who ran the latter. it's been a few years since we started talking about it, but there was a very distinct feel - that it was only a matter of time before it came to be. it was supposed to happen in 2008, but circumstances conspired...

it was a disappointment, but we all learned a great deal from its loss. folks were naturally a bit gun-shy, but as soon as we got together in the fall to decompress, it was obvious the passion to make it happen was still there, and renewed confidence.

so pencil us in, in ink, on your calendar. Thursday evening July 2, Friday July 3, 2009. my class is 2 1/2 hours, slated for Friday afternoon. 24 bucks early registration (by May 24 - it's the two-four special!)

there may also be some sort of meet-the-teacher night in the spring at the Mariposa office. stay tuned.

Get Away!

2009-02-05T11:35:00.002-05:00

i live to build community. and although that sounds like a noble and selfless thing to do, it hasn't really been like that.

when there was no discernible folk scene in our home town, the band i was in started up a Folk Society. now we have a weekly song circle where i can showcase my writing, make friends, and jam with them. and a concert series where we get to hear the best of rising Canadian talent, make friends, and jam with them.

i see a pattern developing...

when my best friend and i were suffering from a huge case of writer`s block, after co-writing a fabulous song, we started up a writer`s bloc. the next month, we were both writing again, getting together with helpful friends and...

when the Mariposa Folk Festival returned to its ancestral home, thanks in large part to the work of the aforementioned band and Folk Society, i volunteered our bloc to lead songwriting workshops, where we spread the love, made friends, and...

when i needed to supplement my meager income, i started teaching evening songwriting courses through Parks and Rec., where i widened my reputation, made money and friends...

when the bloc was firmly established, i realized it was, by necessity, a closed group. i wanted some way to share what we were doing with a larger community, make new friends...

i had also been working with my buddy David at a beautiful local outdoor education centre, which at some point came to be the setting for our shared dream of a winter weekend of fun and learning and healthy physical activity with our current and brand new friends. and jamming.

i introduced the idea to the bloc, who gave me unanimous support. so we booked the lodge, spread the word, lined up volunteers to lead workshops, and hoped we could entice enough people to drop a very reasonable $120 so we could meet expenses.

well, we did, just. and one weekend in the middle of January 2007, we all came together for an amazing time of shared music and joy. complete strangers became fast friends. atheists joined in the sunday gospel session.

the name, and the whole idea of the weekend was `D.I.Y.` Do It Yourself. we didn`t bring in big names, or outside experts. and it was fantastic.

i guess that`s my entire raison d`ètre: if you want something to happen, it`ll probably be quicker, and more to your liking, if you do it yourself.

i spent a lot of years complaining about things not happening, waiting, wishing. what a waste.

as soon as i started these little projects, i knew there were a bunch of people who would prop me up and support anything i tried, and thank me for doing it for them.

so now i`m in the middle of a beautiful, thriving community of musicians and listeners, that i`ve helped to grow. the folk society celebrated fifteen years this week. the writers`bloc is in its seventh. Mariposa nine. my Parks and Rec classes have expanded to sessions for teenagers as well as adults. i`ve started performing and teaching songwriting in public schools. the DIY weekend three weeks ago was the third annual, and by far the best ever.

selfless and noble, you might think. a bit of it, i guess, but mostly i did it because i wanted it to happen.

"i like to be invisible..."

2009-01-27T18:34:00.004-05:00

"... and i like to be the one

you can't

look away

from."

be that as it may, i apologize for my disappearing act lo these many weeks. it's not as if i had nothing to write about. i have three topics to choose from tonight, the other two will follow shortly, to make up for my remission.

eeny meeny, which one shall i choose? maybe i should just go chronologically, sort-of. because, strictly speaking, the last could be the first...

i was very excited a few weeks ago to hear that, for the first time, my Parks and Rec class for young writers was a "go". we had never had enough register before, and just squeaked through this time, with four.

the initial thrill was followed directly by panic. it would be the first time i had taught an extended course to a group of young people. on the surface, it might seem this was an over-reaction. career child care worker, experienced songwriter and teacher of same, no worries, right?

yet i was worried. adults and young people come from different planets, and sometimes i feel like a part-time visitor to both. how would the teens' class differ, and how should i change my preparation for it?

i thought about it for a week, without coming up with an answer. so wednesday after supper i drove over to the hockey rink, found our room locked but ajar (bonus! it's such a hassle trying to find the guy to open up), got out my usual notes and hoped for the best.

the kids showed up, half with parents, half without, all about the same age i think, early high school, three girls, one boy.

the first difference i noted was their ability to concentrate on the job at hand. write a full page first thing? no problem. i was impressed.

i had to tell them a couple of times not to put up their hands. adults don't do that.

the other thing i soon realized was pace: things move much more quickly. bang bang. we got through two hours of exercises and discussion with twenty minutes left. what to do? delving into next week's lesson would be dangerous.

so i decided to ask them to help me edit the song i had just written, which needed a bit of tweaking. i was meeting with my writers' group the next night, where it would probably be fixed to my satisfaction, but i thought, "what the heck?". give them a taste of lessons to come, might be a fun exercise.

well folks, it was more than that. they threw out some suggestions, we played with them a bit, and hey presto, i had a much-improved song. there was nothing for my fellow writers to help me with the next night.

so i left that class with a very good feeling, but knowing that i had some work to do if i was to keep up with them and give them all they could take in. they were hungry for it.

the major problem i saw was that participation levels were very different than in the adult class. in any group of students, you will have a range of participation. with adults however, the range is narrower. everyone has something to say, or ask, occasionally.

in my class of four teens, however, i have two extremes. two kids are very talkative - if i don't keep them talking songwriting, they're talking about something else. one girl has the odd thing to say, mostly encouraged by her growing friendship with the most talkative girl. the last girl volunteers almost nothing.

i was careful from the beginning to assure the kids that they didn't have to share what they wrote in class, but i assumed that they would each present something, sometime.

the quiet one seems content enough, she's writing and paying attention, so i assume she's getting something out of it.

and they all came back for week two, which is great, especially since it was a school night during exams.

if this was an adult class, tomorrow we would be continuing to expand our ideas through exercises and tips, talk more about structure and how to build the song after growing the parts organically.

but the kids and i are going to write something together. it will be chaotic, but i think they'll dig it. it will be fun, even if it crashes and burns.

wish me luck. i'll be back at you soon with topic #2 - my glorious DIY weekend.

the surest cure for writer's block

2008-12-21T17:40:00.004-05:00

i hadn't written a song for a couple of months, until the perfect storm of circumstance conspired to finally make it happen. shall i tell you about it?

every respectable songwriter has a train song. it sounds like a train. it's full of romantic images, folky scenes of hobos, wanderlust. full of yearning.

i wanted to write one, but i had no idea how. i was put off by the idea of repeating those worn-out images, fearful of not being able to come up with my own way to do it.
so it was just another idea on my brainshelf, ready to fall off and roll around when i was ready. there are always a few of those.

couple of weeks ago i attended a meeting of a Mariposa Folk Festival committee charged with instigating Arts U - two days of workshops before the 2009 festival at the Orillia campus of Lakehead University. my daughter had just come home for the holidays and wanted to see our good friend Susan, who has been something of a mentor. i invited Suse to come for a drink, but she was exhausted from working on the final touches of her PhD dissertation, and not a little distracted.

Susan emailed the next morning, apologizing for not coming, explaining that she was "on this freight train". she said it twice, just to make sure i got the point. she also said that she had been working on some songs, mostly while driving back and forth to school. i immediately responded, claiming the idea of the freight train, unless it was something she was already working on - quite possible, as we all need a train song. i added some lines that sounded like a chorus, and crossed my fingers that i could continue with her blessing. which came soon after.

i didn't set to writing it right away. needed to let it ferment, find a rhythm while walking, let some more ideas fall off the shelf. my usual process.

i happened to have lots of free time. a billion things to do before christmas, of course, but things went well and i set aside a day when i would have the house to myself. the day of the meeting of our writers' group, which added a certain immediacy to the proceedings.

this is the value of confidence, when you are good at something and have done it enough, and well enough, to know that chances are good that you will pull it off once again. i hadn't written anything in a while, and there are always doubts, fears of the block being stronger than your resolve to end it.

the other thing driving me was love, for my friend Susan, who i like to call Suse-my-muse. this would be the third song she had directly inspired.

i think i've said here before that my songs are gifts - of love, of thanks, of appreciation. it's what makes me do it. and it's the perfect gift - i'm enveloped in the spirit of a friend or lover, i indulge myself in the beauty of the artistic experience, i make something, which i give away and i keep as well.

it came pretty easily - my brain had been doing the work unconsciously for a couple of weeks. mostly i just opened the flood gates, and it was done by tea time.

i wrote it on the steel guitar, of course - sometimes there's no decision to be made. it sounds something like a train. i thought it wise not to stretch the metaphor too much, so the train images are mostly restricted to the refrain, and the last line of the bridge:

i hear our girl is in town
you'd like me to come around
this meeting is done, but i gotta run
run or be run down

i'm on this FREIGHT TRAIN, i can't get off
FREIGHT TRAIN, it never stops
FREIGHT TRAIN, call the railway cops
can't get off of this freight train

woods are bright with snow
your love would love to go
friends and trees will keep
while i'm buried deep
under all these things i know

refrain

imagine what joy will bring
when you stop, and hold everything
when love is in town. don't mind goin' down
with that diesel-driven thing

i'd love to write something bold
i write 'til it gets old
let me catch my breath, don't you catch your death
waiting in the cold

refrain

i like it a lot, and so does Suse. the writers' bloc didn't offer any changes, so i guess they liked it too.

so that's how it worked this time. stay tuned for the next one.
have a safe and happy holiday.
meantime,write something and give it away.

story songs (continued)

2008-11-20T15:48:00.005-05:00

as i was saying...
it was a couple of months before i wrote another Donnelly song,and i must have realized it was time to come up with something with a little lighter feel to it.

the Donnellys ran a coach business, taking riders from Exeter to London and back, in direct competition with the existing Flannigan line. there was only enough business for one line, and even that was threatened by expanding rail service. there are horror stories of how the clan dealt with their competitors, including extreme vandalism, threats, arson and the slaughter of horses.

i chose to tell the story of a particular journey from the viewpoint of a woman passenger. The Donnelly coach would leave Exeter just before the Flannigan stage, and Tom would race to get to each successive stop first, having been passed by Flannigan's, which was faster because not so heavy with passengers. this made for dangerous times on the narrow roads. sure enough, Tom Donnelly tried to pass the lighter stage on the descent into Birr. the stages collided and both ended up on their sides, sliding to a stop in the village, spilling riders, baggage and barrels of vinegar on the road.

the woman and her sister successfully sued Tom Donnelly for his reckless endangerment. he paid his fifty dollars and went back to driving the stage.

the song ends the first half of the live show, on what has to pass for a lighter note, although the choruses predict the revenge to come:
"and it's only a matter of time/ 'til the next crash, the next crime
1. and the unlucky ones will pay the devil's bill
a matter of time before innocents are killed.
2. and the frustrated no longer trust the law
a matter of time before the final straw.
3. and the bravest of us sue the bloody crew
a matter of time to find what we can do.

i was beginning to look at the placement of songs, what i had and the holes i still needed to fill. thinking back, i may also have been looking for some redeeming character to concentrate on.

it is a story with no obvious "good guy": even the poor victims proved evil when they participated in the White Boys' vigilante justice.

so i latched onto Patrick Donnelly, who must have raised his share of hell by the time he left home in 1867 at the age of eighteen, but who from that point seems to have led a peaceful life. he also tried many times to convince his family to leave the district, as the troubles grew and revenge was threatened.

"Blood and Fire" is a list song: it introduces each of the seven brothers, in Patrick's voice, and the chorus tells his reason for wanting the family to escape:
"You see, i have these premonitions
of blood and fire and deathly sounds
of men in black, and Bridget screaming
then silence in the holy ground."

outlines of the boys' personalities would be listed again in "Johannah's Prayers", ie. similar information from another mouth.
if the Donnelly Project stretches to a second cd, perhaps each of the boys will get his own song.

immediately next, i wrote the song which would follow "Blood and Fire", "Nowhere at All". it tells the major point, that the feuds of Biddulph Township were not created there, but carried over from Tipperary where most of the settlers, protestant and catholic, were from.

it also outlines the particular fight between James Donnelly and Patrick Farrell, who owned the land upon which the Donnellys were squatting, and the murder of the latter by the former. this song would lead directly into "Ain't Fooling Anyone", where James dresses as a woman and hides out in the woods.

i was thinking it was time for another uptempo number. also that the story of Pat Farrell's son William being taken in by his father's enemies was too good to pass up.

how could it happen?
"How can he ride with the Donnellys?
How can we be saved,
when they recruit from our side?
His father must be spinning in his grave."

"The Ballad of Billy Farrell" poses the question, and, contrary to the songwriters' code, answers it.

at some point, i had decided there would be ten songs in total, and i was now at nine. a number of considerations resulted in the song "Wisdom":
i needed an ending song, hopefully with an a cappella chorus;
i needed to put myself in the story, to make the connection with why i wanted to tell the whole thing, because i had been robbed of the opportunity by a head-in-the-sand education system;
i wanted to acknowledge that, as inevitable as the snowballing criminality may have seemed, the massacre might have been avoided had the Donnellys heeded the visions of their son Patrick.

i also had a timely bit of inspiration which jumpstarted the song. i saw my pal KC at the Minesing Unplugged Festival, where he was signed up for my songwriting workshop. he had recently visited the cemetery in Lucan, and told me that visitors were in the habit of throwing coins on the Donnelly graves, in order to fend off bad luck.

lightbulb! that would become the coda, repeated a capella with the choir:
"I'm throwing coins on your grave
to ward off the evil here
to find the wayward truth
the unlikely wisdom there."

once again, other things fell into place as well. when i figured out what year it would have been when Pat left home at eighteen, it turned out to be 1867, the year of confederation. so i placed myself as a teenager (which i was) in centennial year, 1967, at the cemetery (which i wasn't), thinking about him, why i hadn't been taught the history, thinking about making my way from my family, thinking about writing songs...

it feels to me like a very powerful way to end. i hope it does as well for listeners and folks at the shows.

speaking of the cd, i just found out yesterday that it is being picked up by CBC Radio, nation-wide.

first one to hear a song on the radio and let me know wins a free cd!

thanks for reading. now go write something.

writing story songs

2008-11-13T14:37:00.007-05:00

my friend Jennifer has asked me to sub for her next week with her songwriters' club at the local high school. she asked me particularly because i write story songs, and she doesn't.

this is a relatively new development for me. not too long ago, i might have said the same thing as she: "i don't write stories".
all it took for me to change that was to become emotionally attached to the idea of telling a series of stories, a piece of Ontario history, which became The Donnelly Project and the cd Blood and Fire.

i was passionate enough about the idea that i ignored the fact that i had little experience in writing stories.

the key was the aforementioned "emotional attachment". reading books about the Donnellys' rampage through mid-nineteenth century southwestern Ontario, i put myself in the place of the participants, and the stories grew from there.

the first one i wrote, which predates the Project by almost four years, was written from the perspective of a member of the jury in the first trial against James Carroll, leader of the vigilantes ("White Boys") responsible for the massacre of five of the Donnellys in February 1880. that trial ended in a hung jury, hence no conviction. there was a huge outcry at this injustice, since evidence included eyewitness testimony by the only survivor of the murderous arson. i asked myself how that could possibly happen, and answered in the voice of my fictitious character:
"I did what i had to / I've a wife and a family
The White Boys could slaughter us / like they did the Donnellys"

this was a man who had lived in Biddulph Township for thirty years, who had seen firsthand the criminal and unpunished doings of the Donnelly clan. as tragic as their demise was, most folks would have been more relieved than anything, glad to have the spree of arson and mayhem ended at last. a man certainly wouldn't go out of his way to anger the mob who had done it.

and things fall into place. i was researching as i wrote that song (Hang the Jury), and i came across a song written around the end of the century, the cadence of which exactly fit the chorus i had written. so part of it became the second chorus. and i won't have to share the residuals, as the writer is both dead and anonymous:
"Birds don't sing and men don't smile out on the Roman Line
Their faces grim, and so they'll be until the end of time
For the midnight hour brings alarm, no horse will pass the Donnelly farm
Stay off that road or you'll come to harm, out on the Roman Line."

a world 125 years in the past is foreign territory for any writer. but, when i put it in a personal context, i found that i could imagine, if not the circumstances, at least the emotions involved, and that's the core of my writing.

so, 3 1/2 years later, interest grew into obsession, and i dove into the Project, heart first. as i look back, i see that the first song that came to me was "Kevin Kelly's Lament for Bridget Donnelly".

Bridget was a niece, who spent the last year of her young life living with the Donnellys of Lucan, having come from Tipperary, as had they. not much is known about her, but i imagined a sweet, loyal, hardworking girl. i also imagined a young admirer, son of an enemy of her uncle James. it was a natural for a tragic Romeo and Juliet kind of story, this time with the potential lovers given zero chance across the gulf of a bitter feud, ending in her unnecessary death and his endless regret:

"This prayer's too late to offer up / i'm too proud of a man
i loved the bones of a Donnelly, / and her blood on my brothers' hands"

i named the character Kevin Kelly after my friend of the same name, who was instrumental in the project, having given me the book (The Donnelly Album, by Ray Fazakas) from which i would garner most of my song ideas, and a mountain dulcimer, on which i would write perhaps the most powerful of the songs, The Flight of Johnny O'Connor. there was a family of Kelleys (note the spelling) on the side of the White Boys. the rest is fiction.

for that one, i found it easy to put myself in the shoes of the unrequited lover. i could so identify with being in love with an unattainable woman, perplexed by her exotic and confounding ways:
"she never missed the peat, or the songs so lovely, sad
i never missed a chance to tell her that was mad.
she loved her new-found family, the devils that they were
she'd never hear a word against them, her faith in good endured."

i still get goose bumps when i sing that one.

the next song was "Ain't Fooling Anyone", the story of James Donnelly hiding out for months after he murdered Patrick Farrell, told by an unnamed citizen.

i had gathered from talking to people that perhaps the most common image of James was his dressing as a woman while he was a fugitive to help his wife Johannah in the fields. so i started with
"the murderer is wearing a dress / he's helping his wife with the crops
he ain't fooling anyone / except maybe the cops"
and ended with the elation of the storyteller at Donnelly's conviction and impending execution (which never happened):
"The joy, the joy, unforeseeable joy / finding him no longer here
what kind of power can a wee man have, / behind a wall, on a rope, in the air?"

same sort of position as the man in Hang the Jury, but i thought it warranted repetition, as being a widely-held opinion.

the sheer intensity of the climax of the stories, ie. the brutal beating and burning of James, his wife Johannah, son Tom, and his innocent niece Bridget would have been enough of an emotional impetus for me to write the next song. the fact that there was an eyewitness to the scene, in the person of a teenaged boy, was awe-inspiring. i picked up the dulcimer Kevin had given me, and imagined a barefoot Johnny O'Connor running through the snow in utter darkness, away from the rising flames of the Donnelly homestead:
"Run, Johnny, run / flames lick your heels
barefoot in the snow / you can hardly feel
hurry to the Whalens' - stop, you've gone too far
there's barking from the house
behind you in the dark
"Call up the boys!" you cry, / "to quench that awful fire"
"What fire?", Mrs. says. "The Donnellys - they've died.
"men with blackened faces came to take old James,
but killed them all instead. And i know the leader's name!"
...
"Whisht, boy, be quiet," Mrs. Whalen says
"It's a load of trouble you'll be bringing on your head."
"But i'm the only one alive who knows what went on inside.
The only one alive, but for those of the killing tribe."

the mountain dulcimer was crucial in setting the tone and feel of the song - driving, immediate, and authentic to the time period.

the confidence i gained from writing such a powerfully emotional song allowed me to take on the task of writing from the perspective of one of the most foreign characters - Johannah Donnelly.
imagine if you can a short, stout woman, every bit as fearsome as her terrible, thieving, murdering husband, who, while James was away in prison (when his death sentence was commuted) raised her sons to be "seven devils".

i remember watching the movie "The Secret of Roan Inish", to get a feel for the language and customs of Irish folk. there was a beautiful scene with the grandmother damping the fire to make it safe before bed, and saying an accompanying prayer: "I rake this fire, as the true Christ rakes us all. Mary at the foot, and Brigid at the head. And may the brightest angels from the city of grace preserve this house and all within 'til the coming of the Day."

so that was how i inhabited Johannah for the purposes of writing the song "Johannah's Prayers": i had to get past the caricature of her as the female devil, and try to find the loving, church-going mother, which of course she was. but it was also said that she vowed that, if any of her sons failed to take revenge on any enemy of the family, may he rot in hell.
"Seven sons mine, hear your mother's prayer:
Our good name is now within your care
Our enemies can burn, you must not frgive them
The only failure now is to fail to take revenge"

having success writing from the viewpoint of someone as foreign to me as Johannah was a revelation. no, i may be stretching it a bit. it's obvious to me now that it had been a major hurdle, but passion and dedication had paid off. at the time i'm sure i was just glad to be one song closer to the end of the Project.

it was a couple of months before i was able to write the next one. i remember feeling a bit stuck at this point, five songs down, perhaps five to go. lots of ideas for characters and songs, but nothing immediate and compelling.

tune in next time for a tour through the final five.

in the meantime, if you're writing a story song, here's my tip for the day:

know your character(s) well. inside-out. know them way past the point of what you are going to tell us about them. listeners attach themselves emotionally to characters in songs. this requires depth. think of a successful character as a minutely detailed oil painting. pencil sketches just don't measure up.

i'll be back soon - sorry if you've been checking in for nothing new. sometimes i'm just not sure what to write about, but, as i've just proven, if you want to write, all you have to do is write.

three of my favourite letters: DIY

2008-10-13T14:48:00.004-04:00

i am in the happy position of heading up a monthly songwriters' bloc here in Simcoe County. the only sad part is that we can't open it up to everyone who would like to be a part of it.

we're coming up to the sixth anniversary of the inception of the Barrie and District Association of Singer/Songwriters (BaDAS/S). Don Bray and i started small, with a few of our most trusted friends, and gradually and cautiously grew the group, with the ever-present aim of keeping things friendly and constructive.

and it has been a great success for almost all involved. we have about 20 members now, half of whom show up on a regular basis. we've only ever had one initiate quit. that was after one session, when he immediately realized he had absolutely no interest in hearing other writers' takes on his material. fair enough. he writes some pretty good stuff without us.
we also have one member who has never been to a session. we live in hope.

so, maybe you're one of those who would like to be in our elite little group. or maybe you're just out there somewhere, and you would like to be invited into one like it.

DON'T WAIT FOR AN INVITATION. DO IT YOURSELF.

if you write songs, you probably know a few others who do as well. so start up your writers' bloc and invite them in. feel free to use my acronym idea - it would be so cool to see these things popping up everywhere - in Saskatoon (SaDAS/S), Moncton (MaDASS), Sutton, Cannington and Beaverton (SCaBAS/S), Haliburton and Regional District (HaRDAS/S),.. you get the idea.

meet once a month at one anothers' homes. drinks, nibblies, make it a fun event. then get down to work. budget approximately 15 minutes per song. first participant plays the song. he/she then gives out copies of the lyric (if there is one. people do write instrumentals). do not reverse this order - you want people to listen intently, and you want to know if something wasn't clear to them before reading the words.
all criticism must be constructive. if you hate the song and think it absolutely unredeemable, say nothing.
and if you think that your friends, singularly and as a group, are tough enough to take that kind of criticism in a healthy way, think again.
the sole purpose of your bloc is to encourage writers to become better writers. some, if not all, will feel competitive urges and want to belittle others' work, but you have to try your best to keep these to a minimum.

so tell the writer what you like most about the song, what works for you. offer her alternative suggestions for word choices, melodies, song structure. keep in mind that the song is probably not fully formed, that the writer is still finding his way with it. also that there is likely to be a strong emotional attachment to the song. we sensitive types are easily bruised.

don't pick nits. among ten people in a room, someone is going to be turned off by a particular word, phrase or piece of melody. don't waste time on tiny details of personal taste. the song belongs to the writer. she is the final arbiter.

go on to the next song, and the next. if you like, you can do a half-hour writing exercise with the group. this is something we've added fairly recently, and it's been a hit.

invite others in, after consulting with the group. grow gradually and with care. think about hiring a professional singer/songwriter to run a workshop with you. have a yearly DIY Getaway weekend at a lodge somewhere and invite every songwriter you know. we do this in January at an outdoor education centre, with 30-35 folks, many of whom we've never met.

you will soon find yourself in a beautiful community which you helped create. it's a wonderful feeling. next thing you know, you will be blogging, daring others to do the same in their corner of the musical world.

so many corners. go on, i dare you.

what i want to say to you is...

2008-10-02T19:51:00.010-04:00

writing is more inside you than out, but it flows between the spheres, at the line where Life becomes Art. this line is Metaphor. inspiration seems to come from without, even when it does not. the sum of your experience is a rich trove of creation, connected and re-connected through your heart and your mind.

and your audience is the same, ready to assimilate your images into their experience, to recreate them and find resonance.

writing is love and generosity. your love of writing itself, and of the things you choose to write about, given freely to anyone who might share your love.

writing is work, but work you choose to do, work that rewards you with insight and a better life.

the best writing is honest - readers/listeners lose interest with falseness. even when writing fiction, you must tell the truth. which means you must know your story and your characters far beyond what you commit to paper or put to music.

good writing is more grown than built. it grows from an idea, through a conglomeration of related images, ever expanding, freely formed but which will at some point suggest structures with which to organize themselves.

writing needs to be free, uncensored. and unedited, until the final stages. play with the language you love, find rhythm in speech and in the written line, which is only a substitute for speech. language is heard in the head of the reader. trust the sneaky images you find when you play - don't ignore what you think might not "fit". it does - you just have to find out how. put it in your character's hands - what is it to him/her? you can answer this, because you know everything about her/him, or are at least willing to find out.

be brave, have fun, make something new. and be proud.

what the hell do i know?

2008-09-30T20:37:00.004-04:00

i have a new songwriting course starting in a couple of weeks in the old home town. i know this because the doubt vultures have started to circle.

where do i get off, standing in front of folks paying good money to hear me rattle on about my Art?

they could do it for themselves. they listen to music, know what makes a good song. they have melodies in their heads, things they want to say. they could do it without me.

i have selfish reasons for holding these classes. the more money i make doing what i love, the fewer hours i have to work selling paint in a box store. and i like being up there, the supposed expert with the heavy credentials: writer, performer, recording artist, promoter, founder of a burgeoning songwriters' bloc. i've written some very good songs, but rarely admit to the very terrible ones.

i should also admit that the very good songs were written with the help of my best friends, in the aforementioned writers' group.

but they didn't just appear for me. i started the group with my buddy Don, when we needed something to kick-start our moribund writing ways. selfish reason, but what we ended up with was a community of writers helping one another, not just us.

a small community, and a closed one, i regret to say. so now i'm trying to reach and engender a larger, more open community. plans are underway in this neck of the woods to start songwriting clubs in the public and high schools, and my friends and i are very excited about being a part of that. we run free workshops at the Mariposa festival every year, and the scope of that will increase next year to the thursday and friday before the festival weekend.

and i run my songwriting classes through the city, four wednesday nights in a row, fall, winter and spring. people show up, not really knowing what they are in for. hell, i'm not sure myself. when i anticipated my first course, i had never done eight hours with the same group, so i felt most comfortable doing quite a bit of planning. i found myself delving into the structure of a song. the building blocks. practical exercises. linear progressions. do this, then this, then this.

trouble is, i don't know anyone who writes like that. i certainly don't - as you can gather from previous articles. so now i'm a little more free with how i teach. it's more about finding your way of writing.

and people do need help finding their way. that's why they come. they're open to the chance to learn something about writing songs that they haven't found on their own. because what i said in the cynical opening is true: they have it inside them already. they need some tips on how to get the bucket down the well and back up again; whether they want to drink the water cold, or put it in a certain kind of vessel and light a fire under it; what to cook in it, and how they will know when it's done; which parts to use and which to toss; and how to present it to their community.

doubts are usual when you place yourself in the position of "teacher". and healthy. i think i'd rather be called "coach". it often feels that way, when i'm up at the white board, writing and diagramming students' ideas, pointing out the perfection of a phrase or a melody line they've just shouted out, egging them on to continue the inspired thread, open themselves to ever wider possibilities, or to go deeper, to the emotional core. when it's really working, i'm animated and encouraging. if one is suggested by circumstance, the way things are going, i have the perfect exercise to illustrate a part of the craft, or just to have some fun with it.

one has to remember that most folks aren't there for serious study, at a parks and rec. class. Rec means recreation. it seems an oversimplification, but i write for fun. "fun" is the kind of simple, perfect, unambiguous word that writers need most. i enjoy writing almost as much as having written - it's much more fun when you're happy with the end product, and singing it for your best friends, or a group of friendly strangers.

and it's not the easiest balance to attain, getting folks to have fun while they are sharing intimate offerrings of their minds. i am very cognizant of keeping the atmosphere as supportive and non-threatening as possible, for the sake both of the humans involved, and their work.

when the classes go well, which they usually do, i have as much fun as anyone, and sometimes i go beyond "coach" to "cheerleader". it is an incredibly satisfying thing to help someone come up with something spontaneously beautiful. at times their immediate reaction is one of surprise, often followed by wonderment at my lack of surprise.

it's the first thing i see when each one of them walks through the door behind the hockey rink on the first wednesday: "there's a songwriter. i wonder what she will come up with. and another. i can't wait to find out how he writes from emotion. and another. i can almost see the stories in her eyes...

what makes a good song/a song good?

2008-09-24T18:32:00.005-04:00

i've just spent a couple of hours being judgmental: judging makes me mental.

i have the distinct privilege of helping my good friend Jennifer vet the applicants in Barriefolk's youth songwriting competition. we need to come up with a short list of ten worthies to showcase on the first night of the festival, where the real judges will face the toughest task, ie. picking one of them to win a spot on the main stage, $500 and some valuable recording time.

i just looked up the word "vet": "to examine or appraise expertly".

i suppose i am somewhat an expert when it comes to song writing. i do it, i teach it, i bring groups of people together to get better at it. but i didn't appraise these songs as much as an expert as i did as an appreciative listener. there were eight songs which Jen and i both agreed would be on the short list: no need for discussion on their relative merits on the grounds of lyrical interest, melody, structure, emotional effect, etc. they just worked. music enjoyed.

the songs on the bubble take a little more thought, and it's best to look upon their potential rather than where they failed to "work". things missing can be added. things oversaid can be shortened.

new writers, young and old, need to learn to edit, which in my book means "simplify". verbs - action words - move the story. nouns name important things. adjectives should be few and perfect. get rid of unnecessary modifiers, especially adverbs, the dreaded modifier modifiers. and when you do use an adjective, use an unexpected one. the simpler your lyric, the more potential power in each word, so make them powerful.

Art is Metaphor. very strong statement, very true, and a metaphor in itself: power, truth, irony - all in three words. now try this:

Art is like a simile. blah blah ouch. the simple lesson here is, avoid similes, use metaphor. (not to say there aren't a million great similes, eg. "and love is like a warm wind/you can't hold it in your hand..." Lynn Miles. never say never.)

even more powerful, don't say "love is an ocean". it's a metaphor, better than "love is like an ocean", but not as good as writing the lyric so we know that love is an ocean without your ever having said it in so many words.

all writers also need to beware of cliches, but it's only arithmetic that makes it even more dangerous for young people, who haven't been exposed to them as often as we fogeys have. if a young writer comes across an old saw for the first time, it's not trite to him. it's fresh and perhaps perfect.

this is the thing about cliches, which folks tend to look on as trite language. but it's only overused language. and usually the reason it's overused is that it's clever and holds some universal truth and we wished we had said it first.

i have friends who are deathly afraid of cliches. i use them regularly. when you think about simplifying a song and getting your message across at the same time, simple universal truths can be very handy. it raises the bar rather high to expect yourself to come up with new ways to say everything, and to have them understood. but be wary of using those worn phrases, groups of words which almost become a single word because they appear together so often.

even more difficult is expecting to come up with new musical ideas. of which there are none, by the way. wait, that would make it impossible, not just difficult. it bothers me very little when someone says that something in my new song reminds them of someone else's song, or another of my own. i guarantee you: if you come up with a series of notes that has never been heard before, i don't want to listen to it. it could only be awful, jarring and sick-making.

here's a perfect example of familiarity being a good thing:

i went to our local song circle the other night, with the express purpose of exposing my new song to the light of day (cliche, by the way). now this song i wrote from the perspective of my best friend Don, who also happens to be a songwriter, and who also frequents the song circle, 'though not on this night. i had tried to put myself in his place, to tell the story of the terrible summer he has just gotten through. i did a pretty good job of that, but realized there was a bit of melody i had used in an earlier song. ah well, so the song sounds like me. that's okay.

so i play the song. buddy Jim is getting coffee, so he misses the first part and doesn't really twig that the lyric is supposed to be Don speaking. or does he? because the first thing he says is "that's got something of the sound of a Don Bray song." i still can't hear it myself, but something is definitely working there.

because i have been known to channel Don in my writing. the most obvious example is a song i wrote called "Shadows", which i immediately realized sounded like something Don would come up with. sure enough, he loved it - to the point of recording it on his last cd, Taxi Moon and I. the greatest compliment a writer can give you is when she or he says "I wish i wrote that".

and you know, even in the kids' songs that won't make the cut, and those on the bubble which might, there are lines of lyric and melody that i wish i had written.

i told Jen that i hate the thought of discouraging any of these teens by rejecting their efforts. but when i listen to the songs one more time, i can't see it happening with any of them. there is such urgency, such passion, such truth in what they are saying, singing and playing.

i'm really looking forward to hearing the ten on Hallowe'en night. my work will be done, i'll relax and enjoy it. and i hope the kids who don't get to showcase are there too, and keep at it, maybe enter again next year. musical tastes sometimes seem to erect walls between generations. these young writers and i are building the same bridge from opposite sides of the wall, and we'll meet in the middle, in a lofty place of joy.
that was a metaphor, in case you didn't catch it.

a metaphor is like a simile, only better.

thanks for reading. now go write a song.

how to be a pushy canadian

2008-09-17T18:23:00.004-04:00

i was a typical lower-middle class canadian boy, raised to be polite and unassuming. i've had my moments since, but basically i'm still that person.

so it's a bit difficult now that i'm trying to get myself out there, as a performer and teacher of songwriting. it goes against the grain for me to shine my light out from under the bushel.

it's a fairly common phenomenon among my musical friends, many of whom have what it takes to be out there playing to a wide audience. we play at song circles and farmer's markets and tend to look down our noses at those who aren't so backward at coming forward, laughing at their shameless forays into show biz. and we get even more ruthless if they're successful at it, seeming to play at every festival and concert series. they really ought to be ashamed of themselves.

how can one be both an artist and a self-promoter? the bit of buzz that's happening around my new cd is mostly thanks to friends and supporters, who are excited for me and would like to see good things happen. so my bud Scotty tells his aunt about it, she happens to work for the London Public Library, tells the collection people about it. they're keen on anything relating to the Donnellys, so i sell four cds and my work is now in libraries. it's a lovely thing, but the proverbial bulldog is still licking his chops.

i'm very fortunate to have a wife who has made a path for me, herself finding a degree of fame and success in her art, which is knitting design. she is also an introvert (opposites attract!), so it was even harder for her to promote herelf. Deb is a great help when it comes to this stuff, both in the practical side, like showing me how to blog and use Publisher for promo material, and the gritty self-knowledge side. she asks all the right questions and has 42 million (that's her favourite number for purposes of hyperbole) ideas for my campaign.

interesting choice of words. i probably wouldn't have used "campaign" if we weren't in the midst of an election, but it is somehow apt, and a useful nudge to myself, to start taking the Project seriously, and embark on a mission to share it with the unsuspecting world.

i'm convinced that a lot of people will take to the Donnelly stories the same way i did, when i got the chance. in a way, it has been my mission for a while, to rectify the lack of their telling. our history books are full of holes, which aren't much better than lies. but for the same reason, it hinders their elaboration. as unbelievable as it may seem, after 128 years, people still don't want to hear about it, never mind talking about it. you can witness this with a visit to Lucan, a lovely little town with a museum and an engrossing piece of history to promote it. thing is, it's not easy to find the museum, and even harder to find it open. it's uncanny.

but that doesn't really have much to do with me getting out there - it's just a dangerously handy excuse.

i am actually enjoying the exercise of producing promotional material. it is very much like writing a song from another's perspective - as i did in 9 out of 10 songs on Blood and Fire (and even in the 10th, i fictionlized myself as being 3 years older and passing through Lucan, which i did not do at the time): you have to anticipate what the artistic director is looking for, and the best, briefest way to give it to her/him. the package i'm working on is a one-page maximum, for the Ontario Council of Folk Festivals conference in Ottawa next month. also much like songwriting - keep it simple but inspiring, and edit, edit, edit. you can't tell them everything you'd like them to know, so you have to work at whittling it down to what's most important, what will draw them in. everything's there in the cd - your job is to get them to open it and to want to pay attention when they play it.

what's in it for me?

2008-09-10T19:36:00.003-04:00

this is me relaxing at Shelter Valley Folk Festival, where i let other performers entertain me as my ever-expanding fame and fortune rolled on out...

hyperbole is the constant friend of the songwriter. but things are starting to happen for me, as the cd gets into more hands and pairs of ears. and life falls into place and offers opportunities to advance itself, much as a song does.

this is how Art meets life. about six years ago. i finally got around to writing a song in response to Steve Earle's ironically-titled "Justice in Ontario", which had pissed me off some time before. In it were three stories from our province where justice was not served, including the massacre of the Donnellys of Lucan.

now, we weren't taught about the Donnellys in school, as it was a shameful chapter in our history. but i had learned enough to know that the Donnellys had terrorized Biddulph Township for close to forty years and had paid little for their crimes. Earle sang something along the lines of "Sure, James was no angel, but he didn't deserve to die". my immediate response was "Well, Steve, you Yankee hypocrite, actually he did. " James was sentenced to hang for killing the man who had held title to the land upon which Donnelly was squatting. his wife Johannah took a petition to the Attorney General, Sir John A. MacDonald, who commuted the sentence to seven years in Kingston. by the time he got out, Johannah had raised their "seven divils" to carry on the family tradition of arson, terror and dirty tricks.

the law was useless in most of their attempts to curtail the boys' activities. no matter how many times they were in court, the usual outcome was a slap on the wrist or meaningless fine. a couple of the sons did time, but returned to pick up the slack.

the local priest took it upon himself to institute the Biddulph Peace Society, otherwise known as the Vigilance Committee, hoping that by organizing the townsfolk in large numbers against the Blackfeet clan, the latter would give up and leave.

but the Donnellys and their friends stood firm. mounting frustration of the "White Boys"
finally culminated in the indefensible massacre on the night of February 3, 1880.

there was a young eyewitness to the horrible scene, who by all accounts was entirely credible. Johnny O'Connor named the few men that he had seen clearly, and James Carroll in particular, as the obvious leader of the mob.

the first trial ended in a hung jury, the second in a finding of Not Guilty. Carroll went free, and no one was ever punished for the five deaths that night.

i wrote "Hang the Jury" from the view of a fictional juror in the first trial, caught between relief that the terrible Donnellys had been despatched, and fear of reprisals from the White Boys should they manage to convict any of their lot.

that was how i was able to find the "truth" in the two sides of the story which Earle had turned into one. i had to inhabit a character, imaginary though he might be, in order to imagine what it might have been like to live in those times.

that was a watershed moment for me, in many ways. i learned how to write a powerful story, working from emotion. i went on to write many more very different songs, with greater confidence and conviction.

five years later, i revisited the stories in Ray Fazakas' The Donnelly Album, thought rather naiively that it might be fun to embark on a "project", and found myself soon in the grip of my own obsession with the stories and finding a faithful way to bring them to life. i wrote nine more songs, recruited Susan Charters to furnish stories to intersperse with the music, and arranged for a few very talented friends (Alyssa Wright, Carol Teal, Jennifer Ives, Don Bray, Scotty Thomas) to play, sing, record and produce. we invited our friends to come to two shows in December, 2007, which were recorded live, then engineered and mastered by the wonderful

Mr. Bray. another friend, Robin Hadfield did the art and duplication, and hey presto! i have my first cd: Blood and Fire: the Donnelly Project.

but then what? i had dreamed about, and then worked at, getting the damn thing out there for so long that i hadn't really considered what to do with it. the thing had had so much momentum, i guess i thought it would just carry on somehow. but that's not how it works.

so it's taken a while. starting this blog got me thinking about putting myself out there, sharing the gift of homemade music. then a few practical things to get the cd into the hands of those who might most be interested and help spread the word. and it's beginning to pay off.

i was surprised how gratified i was when i received my first library order - four cds for the collection at the London Public Library (London is the big town south of Lucan). i love libraries. and i love the thought of my writing and performance being a part of a "collection" of materials to inform and entertain anyone and everyone.

i've also sent one to the museum in Lucan, which includes a log home much like the one in which four of the Donnellys died. and Susan and i are booked for a show in nearby St. Mary's in April.

when i addressed the cd mailer "Lucan, ON", there was a rather chilling moment when it hit me: "this is where it all happened". even after all this time, i am still extremely moved by the power of the stories. and very happy that i embarked on this arduous, joyous journey.

this is what songwriting can do for you.

if a song is sung in the forest...

2008-08-27T21:43:00.007-04:00

does anybody hear?

my friend Bob told our writers' bloc one time that he writes songs for nobody but himself. doesn't consider the audience at all.

this was extremely interesting to me, as foreign notions usually are. we were discussing the dangers of editing too early in the songwriting process, especially when influenced by the consideration of what an audience might think.

i agree with this in principle. editing should come very late in the process. i think of a song as a growing thing, which should be allowed to become itself, suggest its own structure, dart out in unanticipated directions, like a plant towards water, towards light. editing is necessary, and necessarily merciless, but it needs to wait until the thing has finished growing.

but i always have an audience in mind. most of my songs are gifts, things i want to share with specific friends, loved ones, or with groups of strangers i'm looking forward to meeting. i imagine them listening as the song is building in my heart, my head, my hands, my voice. i smile at the thought of their reactions, laughing at an inside joke or nodding at some universal truth i've managed to snag in a brilliant fleeting moment.

where does one begin?

2008-08-22T13:54:00.000-04:00

the blank page can be an awesome enemy. but so easily conquered, when you think about it. write something, anything. instantaneous victory, the enemy annihilated.

people don't write because they think they don't know how: a writer is someone who holds a secret, some magical knowledge.

but you know what a writer is? someone who writes.

i've named this blog "followthatsong" because it's catchy and attaches a visual image that anyone can identify with. but it also sums up the way i write, when i write well. when i write badly, it's because i'm forcing it for one reason or another, trying to make it happen. when i write well, it flows out of me and it's all i can do to keep up with the tide of images and melody.

Bob Dylan says that creativity is experience, observation and inspiration. i would add "emotion" to the list, but otherwise it's a pretty sound summation.

experience: you don't have to have experienced first hand the thing that you are writing about,

but the richer your life, the more likely you are to have a feel for complexity and multiformity. so, instead of staring at a blank page, wishing you could write, why not go out and do something?

observation: and when you go out, don't look at the sidewalk thinking your deep inner thoughts and wish you could write something. watch people, animals, things, landscapes, colours. listen to speech, the wind, the waves, birds, leaves. feel rain on your forehead, the boardwalk under your feet. taste the salt on your lips. smell the air in the woods.

inspiration: and when you observe, be inspired. by folks with passion, beautiful things, humorous happenings. trigger memories, feelings, write down snippets of thought. walk to the rhythm of a phrase. give it a melody.

that is how i write a song. when i get home, i pick up the guitar, put chords to the nub of melody, and it grows from there. i don't plan the structure, but i know it will come. the structure fits the song, not the other way 'round.

and at magical times, the images and music come so fast i feel like hailing a cab and yelling "followthatsong!"