Long Hard Fall

A good bit of this song for week 41 of #songaweek2016 was inspired by this poignant article by Andrew Sullivan, which was the cover story for the print version of New York magazine, which was sitting on my coffee table when I wrote the song. The headline on the cover reads “Put Down Your Phone.” The article discusses Sullivan’s identification of and struggle with his own “distraction sickness,” and its title and subtext read, “I Used to Be a Human Being: An endless bombardment of news and gossip and images has rendered us manic information addicts. It broke me. It might break you, too.”

And I was thinking about fall, this seasonal descent into dark and cold and emptiness, when organisms break down and fall asleep, and look dead, come so apparently close to death, but somewhere deep inside there’s a dream of spring, of impossible things happening, of starting over, giving it all another go.

Put your phone down, take it easy
sing a song with me
what is this old world coming to anyway?
When you think you’ve got it made cause you’re the top of the heap
of the people all sleeping their lives away

It’s a long hard fall into lonely winter
and summer’s a fading memory
it’s a long hard fall into lonely winter
and spring’s an impossible dream

Hold your hand out, let me touch it
let me know there’s life
out beyond my self-contained planet
all those dreams they made us dream when we were only sixteen
are now battered and broken to bits

somewhere there’s somebody, something, somehow
and nowhere there’s nothing at all

keep your faith in evolution
let your life unfold
give it time and anything can happen
from the ashes of the past rises new and resilienter
you even brillianter now

It’s a long hard fall into lonely winter
and summer’s a fading memory
it’s a long hard fall into lonely winter
and spring’s an impossible – springs an impossible,
ever, eternally, springs an impossible dream

The Big Bad World, Little Pigs and Miss Universe

All truth and life and beauty has a dark side, and without facing it, without naming the despicable and the frightening and the pain and cruelty, truth/life/beauty get stalled and stunted.

At least that’s what I think this song I wrote for week 30 of #songaweek2016 is sort of about . . .

the big bad world gonna eat you up
he be knocking at your door, knocking at your door
he gonna drag you out by your pant leg cuff
and swallow you down to his stony core
sweet dreams be yours, and peaceful sleep
and pray the lord your soul to keep

we’re little pigs living high on the hog
we be working for the man, burning up the dinosaurs
we got a chicken boiling in every pot
we be living off the spoils of our soldier ant farm wars
milk and honey always kept on tap
till cows and colonies collapse

miss universe wears a space-time scarf
she stabbing craters with stilettos, sucking stars like cigarettes
cold shoulders encasing an icy heart
you can see forever through the black holes in her dress
maps get lost and wells run dry
beauty queens and saviours die

What If

What if you are more than what you think? What if we are all more valuable than all that we believe?

Here’s my song for Week 25 of #songaweek2016:

What if I were you, what if you were me?
Could we listen to each other, could we let each other be?
What if we were both about to die?
Could we find a common mercy looking in each other’s eyes?

Or is this sad race to the end the best we can do
and when it comes right down to the wire is it me or you?

What if I told you I’m not so sure
would you ridicule my weakness, add a point to your score?
What if I found out that you’re afraid
would I crow that you’re a coward, have a cynical parade?

Is this sad race to the end the best we can do
and when it comes right down to the wire is it me or you?

What if we both took a flying leap
off our high-minded horses
into heart-deep conversation?
Could we make some waves of grace
that ripple out from you and me?

What if you are more than what you think?
What if we are all more valuable than all that we believe?

Life in These United Hates

When writing my Week 24 song for #songaweek2016, I was feeling the weight of hate in our country – the Orlando shooting, Donald Trump rallies, comments sections and Internet memes of all stripes.

Tried to write something coherent, but I think I felt most strongly the wordless singing part. Not my best week, too squeezed for time this time, but I’m committed to doing this every week and posting it here, so here it is. With electric guitar by Nathan Bloom.

This can’t go on forever

this can’t be all we’ve got

this summer afternoon that’s raging

bloody blazing hot

but does that mean that nightmares

are clinging to its heels?

and for the thousandth time the moon

looks sadly down on killing fields?

Aah . . .

 

I wish you hope and courage

and strength and wisdom too

I wish you all the healing balm

that love and peace need to take root

and when your heart attacks you

with fear and dull despair

I wish you hands that hold your own

and voices vowing, I am here.