Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Switching a song Male to Femaie

Once I told someone that Bonnie Raitt's song, "Love me like a man" was written by a great GUY named Chris Smither. They looked perplexed at me, but of course the song was tweaked. I believe his version was "I'll love you like a man" Well one of my favorite artist who came to a our little house concert series is Allison Sattinger. What an angel she is, but she did write one sultry song called "Across the Room"



Now she didn't ask me, but one morning I had this itch to change the perspective, because as my wife will tell you... I'm an Eye man. So I tweaked the words to what I think a guy might say without really changing the meaning too much. I don't lay any claim for copywrite on this... I just changed the voice. Allison said I made her week when I shared it with her.... That's all the payment I ever desired.

Across the Room written by Allison Sattinger (switched to the Male voice)

I see you lookin, I’m lookin too.
Your eyes are the kind of warmth I could get used to
Like brown earth when the sun sets,
I wonder how you’ld look in my bed.

Some people say cotton feels best; Some people say silk or satin
Makes you think of a woman Makes a body feel blessed.
It’s like the sun in June after winter
I’ve never felt anything quite like ……a feel of a
Woman’s eyes…… from across the room.

This is dangerous territory for me
I swore off love, ’cause makes hard to breathe
But you got that long neck and you got those hands
I’m thinking things about you and I’ve started to plan.

So come on in my lovin arms
I think you could so use to it, You know that we could do
Make it right baby We won’t stop baby
It’ll be heaven I swear Answer to your prayers…Hallelujah..

now you heard the good at the beginning... here's the ugly, but I do like it enough to post it and hope someone like Amos Lee decides to really cover and record it. (got to love the Christmas tree though... HA)

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Bluegrass piece

Bluegrass is definitely about happy, and that what was on my mind Friday night while Lori was out with her girlfriends.

I had just listened to Crooked Still do a wonderful rendition of Liza Jane, then listened to a possible bluegrass band for my house concert series. No wonder this one just flowed out and into a video so I wouldn't forget it. Josie is a real person, and she is pregnant due in May. Sure she is cute as pie, but beyond that it's just a fun story. Now to twist tradition and still do what a good song should do which is to progress the storyline. I have her pregnant in the first verse and getting married in the second. Now maybe some might say that tradition rings thru back to the old Shot gun tradition. The Josie I know did it in the normal progression.

Oh the use of Mae is also interesting since this is the second time I added it to the end of a name to make it sound more folky. Ellie Mae was another piece I wrote, but as good writing progressions go... I think this second one is better because it's tighter with words. You be the judge I've posted both in the blog.

Chorus:
Oh Josie, Josie Mae,
Cute as pie, they all say
When you dance and look their way
Oh Josie, Josie Mae,

Oh Josie, sway & swing
Your baby’s due late next spring
When you smile at your gold ring
Oh Josie flap your angel wings

Oh Josie, take your man downtown
You won’t tease your lovin’ clown
When you stand in your weddin’ gown
Oh Josie you should wear a crown.

Oh Josie, put a flower in her hair
You’ll take her to the county fair
When you say your mama’s prayer
Oh Josie she gets tender care.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs




The first time I saw you, I thought it was a dream
Dancin all around me, just like a Cajun Queen.
You were in my prayers Lord, protect her everyday
What a little darlin, that little Ellie Mae

Ellie Mae, keep that smile upon your face.
Ellie Mae, dance around the room with grace, Ellie Mae
Your God’s gift from above, I give my hand in love, Ellie Mae

So now some years have passed, that smile’s still on your face.
Still a little angel, full of love and grace.
All my prayers were answered, your with a boy today.
A strong and lovin’ man, for little Ellie Mae.

Ellie Mae, keep that smile upon your face.
Ellie Mae, dance around the room with grace, Ellie Mae
He’s God’s gift from above, give him your hand in love, Ellie Mae.

The next time I see you, a smile still on your face.
Your Sis on the banjo, new Dad upon the bass.
Harmonies a flowin’ and what a joy to say.
Twin girls ‘round the feet of little Ellie Mae.

Ellie Mae, keep that smile upon your face.
Ellie Mae, dance around the room with grace, Ellie Mae
Their God’s gift from above, give them your hand in love, Ellie Mae.

By Dave Schipper © 2004 Rose Riversongs

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Duckin' stones, a Protest song

I live my life duckin’ so many stones.
My hands are free, but I feel alone.
Both sides take aim at the weary bill.
Both exclaim there is a poison pill.
I suppose I should stop and listen.
Decipher which is God’s position.
I do expect that answer is neither
Jesus wouldn’t even need a breather.
He’d remind us of the question that stands,
When he needed help, “Did you lend a hand?”

I walk thru life duckin’ so many stones.
My way is clear and I don’t go alone.
I walk with the sons of Abraham,
Yes, Christian, Jew and Muslim
Side by side, homeless, poor and gay
Ducking the stones and words they say
Lest we forget the word cast in stone
Don’t idolize words from a radio throne
But let the words of Jesus help
Go out loving one another as yourself.

Go out and shout
Drop the stones, drop the stones.
But do not doubt, you’ll be
Duckin’ stones, duckin’ stones.

© 2009 Dave Schipper Rose Riversongs


Now this song is more finished but likely needs a third verse.... and it's my weird version of a 60's activist protest song but who am I protesting? The Right who knows their never wrong, the left who most times forgets the real reason. I'm lucky to be blessed with health care but I fret so about those who make the wrong calls because they can't afford to go the the hospital, and I'm disgusted with my health care bills being pumped up by the margins of the insurance & drug companies who are paying to fight any reform. Don't forget I'm a business person with a compassionate heart, I know what they are up to.... and our health bill is seeing the rewards. And if they aren't bad enough.. you know about the bad debt and write off expense in a hospital for all the goodwill medical work they have done for poor people.. HA you don't want public insurance... YOU ARE PAYING for it anyway... they make money and have to pass it on somewhere.

The answer... hey this blog is to be about songwriting, so it's probably Blowin in the Wind... so go and write your own protest song.

Dave

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Talkin' Differences in Sexes

So while I have been busy writing, I had nothing significant I wanted to share within this site for a while... tonight is finally here. In the great tradition of Woody Guthrie, I finally wrote a talkin' song.... now most who know my voice are probably saying, "Thank God"... but really this again like anything takes inspiration. Mine came from a simple thing like the differences in women's hair, and how some women at work will change the way come to work every other day. Up, down, curly, straight, wet or dry... and gracious sometimes that's the same person. It got me thinking about the differences between men and women... so after great research, I throw this piece into the mix. Now it does use current cultural references which date it, and I don't recommend that for a song like this; of course I think that Rush and McCain's crazy "The Google" will live in cultural literacy for awhile.

Some day I will record a YouTube of this... until then enjoy.



Ok folks, it’s plain to see, that I’m talkin’ differences ‘tween you and me.
Or should I say them and us, you know vagina versus the old penis.
I’ve been around a time or two, enough to see a closet full of shoes
But when I went to write ‘em down, I was worried to be shipped out of town.
You know Rush Limbaugh style, angry, confused, blabbering all the while.

Now this shouldn’t be an editorial bit, so I used THE google and McCained it.
You know in this digital age, you just search and copy some body else’s page.
So armed with a laptop and coffee, I got my windows to look at me.
Point and click info by the ton, ohhhh better put the adult filters on.
Just incase you try this at home, don’t try that with thing with foam.

Back to work and just like I thought, lists and lists of haves and have nots.
Some pretty scientific stuff, when I thought camo versus pink fluff.
There’s left brain / right brain, and why women explain and explain
There’s x y, mars and venus, and oh yeah then right back to the penis
So who here before the age nine, played you show me your I’ll show you mine?

Mumble… after age nine… hmmm look me up sometime….

Hair style is difference I relate, hell mine been the same since 8.
Yes all that time to get ready, and you just better notice Freddy.
She’s worked hard at getting it just right, even if it’s a bun pulled tight.
Darlin you look good tonight, no, no really I meant outta sight.
Sure the game is on, but I looked at you really, really, really.. hey he’s gone.

So if I make it through this song, and married to my favorite one.
It just means that difference attract, and then find a way to react.
Most women are saints you know, and successful guys will surely show
Their pride and joy that brings them dinner, after they said she looks thinner
Yes indeed, I meant every word, thanks for the dinner hun.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs
Many thanks to Woody Guthrie and Charlie Maguire for inspiration.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Love is free at last

Oh the journey of a songwriter... you few folks that had the blessing or curse to see the first taping of this song will like the journey. I am one that writes and song and lets it breathe a few days before going back at it. This time I made many of the lines easier to sing while keeping the rhymes and the meaning of each line. I truly am grateful for the day I saw Samantha Farrell's picture of her in a field with her guitar barefoot. She put the caption... Barefoot running through the daisy's and poof inspiration.

The song speaks Dylanesque to the passing of faith, to the promise of resurrection, to the plight of the hungry, and to the hope of the youth when they are blessed with a positive outlook.

The last verse was added to tie into the fourth part of the chorus, No Fears No Regrets... it has many many embedded Samantha Farrell song referenced. AND this recording of the song makes much more sense. I do think it'll hang with me and be on my next CD.

Love is Free at Last by Dave Schipper (c) 2009 Rose Riversongs

The field was filled with bare foot girls
The church doors opened wide
The laughter of the children filled
The spirit of these sullen eyes

Solid stone over 100 years old
Means nothing to the little ones
But a spirit binds a new foothold
One to last to their father’s sons

Hallelujah The spirit is passed
Hallelujah Love is free at last
Hallelujah The table is set
Hallelujah No fears, no regrets


A rich patchwork of sizes and colors
A human ebb that flows in waves
Precious fabric of his earth he covers
With the souls he pledges to save.

‘tween the toes are daisy petals
He loves me and he loves me more
He plants the seed and wins the medals
But he weeps at the wages of war Chorus

The field was filled with bare foot girls
The store doors opened wide
The hunger of the people filled
The spirit of these sullen eyes

A rich harvest is bountiful
Grown and watched to maturity
Tastes and words purposeful
Bear love of holy purity. Chorus

Driven to avoid the lamenting
Though streets were really torn apart
She kept her small frame moving
The chaos couldn’t shake her heart

Music played in this City of Dreams
She played the muse with luck
Won the prize, strawberry cream
She left as the melody stuck Chorus

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Forever Nineteen for a friend

Just a pretty face in a busy place
I soon would melt in your hands
And you became regular in my plans.

Forever nineteen, so frozen in time
Twenty years passed so fast
But you are built to last.
Forever nineteen, so frozen in time

The months layered on in this bright salon
A rich text of news and playfulness
Left me wanting more, I confess.

Now suddenly everything’s casually
A spring and surprise to an old friend
Sure funny to look back how it began.

Forever nineteen, frozen in time to me
Twenty years passed by just today
And you still sweep me away.
Forever nineteen, so frozen in time

Still a Metallic Fan livin’ with the postman
A soccer mom queen and forever nineteen.
Forever nineteen, so frozen in time
Forever nineteen, such light shine, frozen in time.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

I am as loyal as a coon dog in many ways. I've worked in only really 3 places in my 32 years since high school... married for 27+ years... and I've gone to the same woman to get my haircut for 23 years. Natalie was just a beautiful teenager when I first met her and now I consider her and her husband Greg friends. When they came to see Rose River last week and I got a picture with this angel, there had to be song in it... and here it is... I do love the line "you still sweep me away"... all that hair each month.. it's just a little more grey the last few years.

I did worry a little about needing to get this more personal to make it effective as a song more people can relate to... maybe I need a co-writer to the write lines that I'm too cautious to write about a good friend. HA.

For song writers out there... I started with the premise and hook "Forever Nineteen"... my search on the phrase did show that alot of themes wrapped around this was linked to people dying and frozen in time. I hope I captured that but turned it around, Nat is alive and well but when I look in those eyes I still that teenage girl that loves Metallica.

Of course ... you can't let the muse rest when the day has presented an afternoon alone ... so here is the freshest written song to be posted to youtube... it actually doesn't match the blog... watch for the improvements.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Recount history... even if it's ghost stories...



A mere trip to a city I've visited before, but take the ghost tour at night and the doors open to the imagination. I did even up also buy a history book of the ghosts just to make sure my facts were right... and yes what good ghost story isn't done in A minor key?... enjoy... I love the last 5 seconds of the video, if you didn't wait it out... skip ahead.

Ghosts of St. Augustine by Dave Schipper © 2006 Rose Riversongs


The ghosts of St. Augustine are an eerie sight
On rooftops, porches, and trees they come out at night
They walk this ancient ground, while their stories are told
By guides with lanterns, recounting tales of old.

The white gown of the bride
The candle in the night
The widow on the stairs
The renters Miss Faye scares
Ghosts of St. Augustine
Are the sights to be seen
Walk the cobblestone streets
And enjoy whom you meet

Pass the Bishop’s shrine and see the wayward bride
Who terrified those children tenting that night
Woke them with a cold hand brought screams and bone chills
Now she walks alone, mourning a love unfulfilled.

As guest G-Men talked, the innkeeper knew the plan
She gave the smuggler signal with lantern in hand.
Today her lost soul slips past the boarded entry
To the sea, Her hooded figure waves a sentry

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Don't throw out those journals

This piece actually has roots back in 1976. It was normal for me to write and write because I was kind of a loner. All that changed with Lori and a real job, but back in 2004 I started back up again. By the next year, I found myself reading my old journals and poems. The first verse was just sitting there waiting for me; lesson for us all, clean up your life, but don't throw away your journals.

The lyric went through a couple of re-writes and it is filled with a bunch of cliches, but isn't sometime real love a cliche?

Today I release this song to the digital world.... here's a taste of it.... Tim is on the piano.



If I could draw
a face dear and warm
With eyes of passion
Smooth lines would form

Paint me in love, As soft as a dove
Sketch out a dream Someone barely seen
Lead me to draw The beauty that I saw
Paint me in love, with light from above

If I could draw
The fine lines of age
There’d be folds of love,
And beauty on a page

Paint me in love, As soft as a dove
Sketch out a dream Someone barely seen
Lead me to draw The beauty that I saw
Paint me in love, with light from above

If I could draw
Sensual curves of shade
Pleading deep dark eyes
and dimples concave

by Dave Schipper © Rose Riversongs 2005

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Write for both voices II

Ok... so here's my rocker ...

Blonde Attitude by Dave Schipper © 2005 RoseRiver Songs


Call it a week, call it a day
Call it what you like I just want to get paid (or laid)
Tired of my job, Tired of my boss
Tired of dreamin of the hair that you toss.

Chorus
I need some music with a blonde attitude
I love to hear those words that you use
I keep a wishin for some time with you
I need some music with a blonde attitude.

Toss me a brew, toss me a life
Toss out the bill from my exwife.
Grab hold my hand, grab on your heart
Grab on tight you know just where to start

Smile and laugh, smile and relax
Smile to the gents looking from the back
Move to the left, move to the right
Move anyway, just hold me tight.


Note... Yes it is available on iTunes with Tim and Paula live, but we add the Blondettes of Sue and Lynn and we get just a spontaneous fun song. It can be cleaned up with substituting PAID instead of LAID... sorry I didn't mark the song Explicit... I hope I don't get caught.

I also had fun rearranging the words and pitching it to a woman to sing... no luck yet...

Blonde Attitude by Dave Schipper ©2006 RoseRiver Songs

Call it a week, call it a day
Call it what you like I just want to get paid (or laid)
Tired of my job, Tired of my boss
Time to primp and sharpen the claws.


Chorus
I’m just music with a blonde attitude
You’ll love to hear those words that I use
You keep wishin for some time with me
This blonde attitude’s in perfect key


Here’s your brew, and here’ your life
God just forget that bitch, our exwife.
Grab hold my hand, grab on your heart
Grab on tight you know just where to start


Smile and laugh, smile and relax
Smile to the girls looking from the back
Move to the left, move to the right
Move anyway, just hold me tight.

And now as of July 2009 a live video courtesy of a house alone, and Dustin's electric guitar... HA.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Inspiration... listen to stories.

In any walk of life, you find inspiration where ever you can. Ideas that create the next project, be it woodworking, jewelry, gardening, cooking, and yes songwriting. During the last house concert, Becky Schlegel related how she can't wait for her boy, 4, 3 and less than 1 will be old enough to go hunting with their dad. She also mentioned how her cat sometimes loves to lay on the forehead of her husband's deer mount. Welll that was enough to create the following... thanks Becky for a great house concert, and now inspiration to write.

The hunt.

I’ll trade mischief for quiet air
Wrestling for solitaire
November comes round once a year
This time, it’ll be all mine.

I might sound a bit insincere
Lose my mom of the year
But the truck is loaded with gear
And they’re off to shoot deer.

No dirty boxers in my path
No shouted curses over math
I’ll light candles, take a bath
Then buy shoes and new bag
But I’ll hug them when they're back

I waited awhile for those boys
My man and the little joys
To grow old enough to enjoy
The hunt, together for a week.

Now the cats and I have the house
I’ll sit around in just my blouse
They’ll nibble his mounted grouse.
I’ll maybe a visit a boutique.

No dirty boxers in my path
No shouted curses over math
I’ll light candles, take a bath
Then buy shoes and new bag
But I’ll hug them when they're back

Dedicated to Becky Schlegel by Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Research, find connections, live it for a while.

Warren Nelson who heads up the Big Top Chautauqua’s Tent show is a wonderful writer of historical songs. Many of them get in their theme musicals like Old Minnesota: Song of the North Star So one day on the way to work I came up with the first stanza because in seven minutes I drive seven miles thru the Black River bottomlands, where really to the right is the historic Van Loon Seven Bridges Road. (No likely not the one Steve Young wrote about and the Eagles made famous.) The first stanza originally just had some stories, but as it evolved I was determined to make seven stories.

Now each has a connection to the area.... I'll let you read it and then explain.

In seven minutes, seven miles breeze by
To my right, the old road beckons
Seven bridges, and seven stories
For my delight, if I just listen.

Lizzy,
Lizzy paid no attention to crickets
But that gun shot made her jump.
Crazy Bill McGilvary shouted
“Dem swamp rattlers!
Liz listen up next time
They sound just like crickets!”

7 minutes, 7 miles
7 bridges, 7 tales.

Davey,
Davey just had an itch to fish
But he had chores galore.
Ma’s fresh pie served as a bribe
And little Jim, he won’t mind
He’ll do the chores just fine
While he finds time to fish.

7 minutes, 7 miles
7 bridges, 7 tales.

Joanie
Joanie had a hankerin for fun
Like a red shouldered hawk
She swooped in on Henry
“Kee Year” she mimicked.
In the bottomland grass,
She rolled with her new hun.

7 minutes, 7 miles
7 bridges, 7 tales.

Billy,
Billy cursed that bridge from hell.
Clinton embossed the back of his neck
As he hung motionless from the A frame.
Damn riverboat gamblers
Took his life savings
So he hung there a spell.

7 minutes, 7 miles
7 bridges, 7 tales.

Tommy,
Tommy never really came back
So he made these swamps his home.
Nam killed more than his hearing
He lost trust in people
They say the lost site of him
As waded out in the river named Black.

7 minutes, 7 miles
7 bridges, 7 tales.

Ritchie
Ritchie mumbled “How did this happen?
Rental piece of shit,” but he hated flying.
Aw a strawberry stand, and a latin beauty.
“Two bits for sweet carazon.”
“Precious what’s your name”
“Oh they call me Donna”

7 minutes, 7 miles
7 bridges, 7 tales.

Albert,
Albert was nineteen in 1865
At the Spanish Fort battle in ‘Bama.
He was 90 when they laid him down
Four miles from the bridge
He and Rynert used to fish
Sure wished he would have survived.

In seven minute, seven miles breezed by
To my right, the old road beckoned
Seven bridges, and seven stories
For your delight, if you listened.

by Dave Zeman (c) 2009 Rose Riversongs


First verse has Milgvary's name from the ferry boats and they really have massasauga snakes and their rattle sound like crickets. Second verse has the local farmlands and the rich fishing that is still done today in the area. Third verse, of course the Red Shouldered Hawk lives there and it's call is Kee Year... even yesterday I saw some birder guys standing in the ditch on the way to work. Fourth verse, the bridges were all made by the Clinton Bridge company and they are only 5 miles away from Trempealeau. Back in the old days, it was not uncommon to have gamblers traveling up and down the Mississippi river and the suicide. Well let's say it reminds me of seeing the cross that is on may way to work in the area every day; poor mixed up kid. The bridges have history, the swamp reminds me that you can get lost, so why not have them attract mixed up soldiers coming back from Vietnam in the fifth verse. Now in the sixth, the famous Ritchie Valens appears as he drives through and stops at the local strawberry stand. We're using alot of Hmong people to help harvest, but their predecessors were Mexican help, so it gets a little fictional tie. Now did you know that Ritchie Valens at one point hated to fly? Too bad he didn't stick to that feeling. The last verse ties in two Van Loon's into the story, both fought in the Civil War and one is really buried a mere four miles from the bridges and a mile from my house. I do plan to find and to post a picture of his grave. I get this sneaking feeling, he'll show up again in my writing.

Writing... yes this has no music to it yet... maybe never... but it is a song I know it. Probably too long of one... HA.

Thanks for reading.

Dave

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Song writing conversation with Kate Morrissey

Here's a great interview with Kate Morrissey about song writing. I thought I would share it.

it starts:

"I am very dependent on the muse for a lot of my writing," says singer/songwriter Kate Morrissey, adding that she admires people who can set a time to write each day. "My creative flow never has worked that way."

For the rest go to 3questionsandanswers.blogspot.com

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Never let go... and look at all the pictures of life

Wow... I noticed I needed to post an old piece again mainly to pique my interests... this one intrigues me.... written based on an Actress friend of Allison and the pictures in her myspace site. This is a very unique blog... the first is my re-write earlier from this year that I forgot I did, and the later the original post from April 2007. I laughed when I read it... I knew back then it needed work, HA.

Now the song writing tip... go to someone's flickr or myspace site you really don't know. Read their profile, look at their pictures and write the story you can imagine. Allison's friend had a Bohemian spirit and posted so many pictures it was fun to get inspiration. The second write is better than the first, but I don't think there is a melody yet. Then everything is out the window and you re-think it again... HA.

Enjoy

Dave

Leading Star by Dave Schipper © 2007/09 Rose Riversongs

Oh my leading star
No wonder where you are
If I didn’t know, you surely show
You’re anchored in love
Cradled from above.

Your colors shift like a rainbow
From passion hot to cold
Your costumes match your subplots
You’d change your eyes if you could.

Oh the stories match your delight
Your allegiance left to right
Scripted lines improvised
your world truth is de-emphasized.

Oh my leading star
No wonder where you are
If I didn’t know, you surely show
You’re anchored in love
Cradled from above.

The princess of a concrete desert
An unabashed glowing flirt
Your hair flows out as you dance
Darting dark eyes in a parting glance.

Your voice lifts high in a song
Dancing around a fountain long
You are immersed in your part
Bearing all of your gypsy heart

Oh my leading star
No wonder where you are
If I didn’t know, you surely show
You’re anchored in love
Cradled from above.

The page turns your quirky sense
Deep orange stained hands
Secrets you tell only friends
Then laugh deep until the night ends.

You are the mother of all suprises
A winter bud, a snow in July
You are the leading star in my life
You are a woman; you are my wife.

Oh my leading star
No wonder where you are
If I didn’t know, you surely show
You’re anchored in love
Cradled from above.

Original...Leading Star by Dave Schipper (c) 2007 Rose Riversongs

Oh my leading star
I'd wonder where you are
If I didn't know inside
That you are anchored in love
Cradled in hands from above.

Your colors shift like a rainbow
From passion hot to fridged cold
Your costumes match your subplots
You'd change your eyes if you could.

Oh the stories go on to your delight
Your allegiance shifts left to right
Scripted lines end up improvised
In your world truth is de-emphasized.

You're the princess of a concrete desert
A smiling unabashed glowing flirt
Your hair main flows as you dance
Darting dark eyes in a parting glance.

Your voice lifts high in a song
Dancing around a fountain long
You are immersed in your part
Bearing all of your gypsy heart

The page turns to your quirky sense
Deep orange vegetable stained hands
Secrets and passion you tell only friends
Then laugh deep until the night ends.

You are the mother of all suprises
A bud in winter, a snow flake in July
You are the leading star in my life
You are a woman; you are my wife.

I read this over again, and I'd like to say now honestly that this is not about my wife. I again love MySpace friends to let inside the stories and pictures of their lives, that is where this song had it's foundations. Then drive to to work with it, and lines get jotted. Then drive the next day and more lines are jotted. Finally over lunch they come together and the wife line really pulled it together. Frankly I like it as prose, but I can't hear this as a song yet.

Maybe it's time to stash it away for a year, and come back to re-write it later.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Write for both voices

To write for both voices is easier said than done... Angels in Disguise was written after I watched this beautiful young girl do a liturgical dance at our church; and wow. I thought God protect your angel.

This kind of evolved from that...

Angel in Disguise by Dave Schipper © 2005 Rose Riversongs

You’re an angel in disguise
With unusual brown eyes
You’re a child not in the fold
But a piece of heaven to hold

Your many faces change and shine
With a gentleness so kind
When passing by please hear a prayer
Let me stand and protect her

Take a stand and clear a space
Where it’s safe for her to grow
Stand in back and let her know
True love is hard too show.

You’re an angel in disguise
Beauty masking any whys
My hope to you is that a smile
Light your life’s many miles

And if chance just stop to pray
You’re a gift from God today
If you take your wings to flight
He’ll show you brilliant in the night.

Take a stand and clear a space
Where it’s safe for her to grow
Stand in back and let her know
True love is hard too show.


Now lesson two... keep pitching...

Yes this is out of my vocal range and I've been looking for someone to cover it. This week I pitched it to Demaree, since she seemed open to ideas in a blog she wrote.

Here she is singing some jazz.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Gracious it's been a while

Ok, here's a song writing update.... I suck at keeping at it, do different then me. HA. Well lately I've been working harder on marketing that on writing... but both are important.

Now here's what I've done recently... I joined http://www.americansongspace.com/davezeman because I've read their magazine and the site is really geared toward people in the industry or novices like myself.

I continue to write new stuff even if it's just poetry like Stereotypes. and again too often in the car on the way to work driving 60 MPH. It really is just scratch notes so I remember the lines.

Back to American Song Space, I entered a rare free writing contest that if you win, you drive yourself to Nashville and have a day with a super songwriter who is a legend in my mind, Pierce Pettis. Wish me luck... If I win, I'll hear about it around my birthday.

Ok back to the steering wheel, the pen and the occassional scrawl. I'm sketching out what might be a song or might be a long story poem. I saw this park bench that had a beautiful engraved message, In loving memory of Peanuts Hoyt... now I think, that's a song. Then right down the trail I see this big park inspector with this huge bushy gray mustache and farmer jeans with a red bandana hankie sticking out of the pocket. Yes... it's coming together. Now I'm sketching the story line, the who, what, why, and where.. each stanza a new tidbit. I'm weaving in some people I know in my mind. When I'm done, I'll be so happy... why am I writing this... just because it feels right. If you write to make money, to make the next hit... well work on an assembly line. It's not for passion, I write for the passion and expression... I'll let you all know if I finish it.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Parodies are a blast...

Oh do not say you can never write one... I've written three or four without really trying much and they are sooooo fun.
Mr. Tangerine was an evolution about 5-7 of our different cats over time, but it's really Bob's lyrics that work the magic. I put Bob's words in italics to let you see how a good parody stays as true to the original song as possible. Or so I read, and you just did. Oh I'd also recommend parody a sound people know, so they know the inside jokes.

Hey! Mr. Tangerine Man, place some hair on me,
I'm not sleepy, won’t you walk across my bladder.
Hey! Mr. Tangerine Man, place some hair on me,
In the early mornin’ please yowl a little louder

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.


Though I know your evenin's venture has returned mouse in mouth
Dropped neatly on the couch,
Left me blindly here to stand at the brink of gagging.
Your weariness amazes me, You’re sleeping in a heep,
Baked in the sun shine heat
And your little head too dead for dreaming.

Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand,
Vanished from my hand,
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping.
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet,
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.


Take this catnip for your magic swirlin' trip,
Your senses will be slipped, your paws won't feel to grip,
Your tail will attack, daring you to be pouncing
You’re ready to go outside, Your ready to come in
To go out, to come in, to go out and come in
And then back out again.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship,
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip,
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'.
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way,
I promise to go under it.


Chorus.

Though I see you runnin', spinnin', jumpin' madly across the room,
It’s not away from anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
But it’s from the invisible foes your facin'.
Yes to dance beneath the human is not against pride
When there Kity treats involved, or chunks of cheese not small
There’s a use for him after all.


Though you might hear laughin', spinnin', swingin' madly across the sun,
It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'.
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind,
I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're
Seein' that he's chasing.


Yes... the Dave Zeman has covered this and posted it to iTunes... it actually was the most bought song of mine during January... Go buy so many that Weird Al covers it. HA, HA, HA....

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Write about a favorite personal belonging...




Aw... My old shoes. I hate giving up on shoes, and these deck style shoes are my favorite. Today's spice of song writing was inspired this week listening to John Garfield Blues. I believe it's Jeffery Fourcault's cover of a John Prine song, but I could be wrong. My son has nothing to do about it, but I had kind of an upbeat groove in my head and an idea to write about shoes. It didn't go into all the depths of shoe conversation I wanted to have, but it's such a zipper type song, I'm going to get a feeling at any time I can pick up the song and add a verse and delete one. It has a sin in it... I rhyme the same word, but I really loved the line about underwear. HA... Have a great day, and don't throw those favorite shoes away.

Dave








Old shoes, old shoes
Been with you for a time or two
Old shoes, old shoes
Wouldn’t trade them for a pair that’s new

The leather laces have been replaced
Your wife says they are a disgrace
But they’re with you at the start of the day
A nothing else feels the right way, except

Old shoes, old shoes
Been with you for a time or two
Old shoes, old shoes
Wouldn’t trade them for a pair that’s new

As I walk I avoid the puddles of life
Just hop and skip on my daily hike
I smile to the ones I meet on my way
Though I stepped in pile of HEY..

Old shoes, old shoes
Been with you for a time or two
Old shoes, old shoes
Wouldn’t trade them for a pair that’s new

You can judge people by the shoes they wear
Just like you could by their underwear
But right down there for everyone to see
Are my old shoes smiling at me, they’re just

Old shoes, old shoes
Been with you for a time or two
Old shoes, old shoes
Wouldn’t trade them for a pair that’s new


© by Dave Schipper Rose Riversongs 2009

photo credit

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Let God help a little






Ok, so sometimes I let the big guy steer my writing. Recently I was waiting for Sunday School to start and the closing hymn started. Not to be intimidated by the organ, I took out my guitar, found the key and played along. That led to putting this melody of hymn 843 firmly in my psyche. Now I'm helping to plan a sermon on arch 21/22 weekend, so this song came out of my thinking about it.

Hey we also have a church blog now at http://PassionatHLC.BlogSpot.com Enjoy...

David









For by grace we have been saved
Not by works, no one will boast.
We are God’s fine workmanship
Baptized in the Holy Ghost
All the gifts we have been blessed with
Are to share with one and all.
Now we all should heed his will
Look inside us and see our call

As we walk our daily journey
We bring with us all our gifts
Every trait we were endowed with
From our laughter to our wit
All the things that bring us pleasure
Were put right there from the start.
Now we all must heed our calling
Learn to share right from our heart

Daily tools which make our living
Are the ones the Lord approves
From every hammer , every keyboard
Bring a passion with Christ’s love
All the things that serve the Lord
At your fingertips each day
Now we all must heed our calling
Praise the Lord, whom we adore.

David Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Ok sometimes force the writing...

One morning in the car, I turned the CD/Radio off and with an 8 mile straight stretch of road ahead to Trempealeau, I said..."I need to write"... Women... What do I love about them... Quickly images of tight denim jeans and calico print tops and skirts got into my head.... Denim & Lace was born, but with that nothing... as I drove through town I saw a street sign "Chase St."... and then I rounded the corner and saw a bar named Linda's place. By the time I got to Winona I believe I had chorus and the jest of where the song was headed. Writing in the car can be risky, but there really isn't much traffic where I drive and I don't drive aggressive, I roll with the flow.

Ok I don't know if I helped you with your song writing, but if you can write a story by finding little things in your life and tie them together.... you wouldn't be copying just me, you would be copying some great song writers. Yep it was a time in my life that gas was hitting record highs, and seemed like everything at home was breaking... everything but my wonderful marriage. Funny I think it was after this song when Lori told me to stop writing about divorces. HA

BTW... the song came together when I changed it to a duet and had Paula sing every other verse.



Denim and Lace

Seems like everythings broke, including me
Ex-wife called for her alimony.
The price of gas just hit record highs
All you can do is stand a sigh

He can’t complain about his day ahead,
his mind is wanderin off to me instead.
Come Friday it’ll be just him and me
Good food, some beer and little TV.



Chorus
Escape from the rat race,
Take a left on Chase street,
They're serving denim and lace,
At Linda's place.
They're serving denim and lace,
At Linda's place.

Linda works at the diner all day
Servin’ those with too much to say
Then it’s hurry home and get the kids fed
do the wash, and off to bed.

I don’t complain ‘bout the routine stuff
There’s more of life to really love
My sites are set to dad’s weekend
and a little time with him to spend.


Chorus

Linda and I someday will tie the knot,
When the kids see just who I am not.
We’ve got a plan to keep this love alive
Pretty nice feeling when your 45.

Love after forty is not a bad thing
Don’t let them tell you that we can’t sing
Timing is something that you can’t control
But when you find the time just grab hold.

Saturday, January 31, 2009

Songs with Names

Michelle, my Belle.... Suite Judy Blue Eyes... Daniel...Sarah.....Penny Lane?.... Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds...

All songs written with the actual name of the person. Now if songs are suppose to have universal appeal, why do these all work.

I'm going to listen to this iMix a bunch times to make sure, but I believe it's because they tell a story. I welcome you to try the same thing. Go thru your songs, and pick all the titles that reference a name... and listen to their stories.




Ok I'm back and if you can learn anything from studying good songs, let's look at the songs I picked:

Angela: I believe this is a deep friendship between two women. I don't read lesbian into every song sung by a woman to another one... who knows... but the passion is deep, I also love Angela after this song and wish to see her bright blue eyes.

Julia... boy I wrote a whole blog about this adopted niece who is actually named Angela. It's written in the personal 1st person.

Mary... sung in a 3rd person... great story about a person growing out of her small Christian town.

Song for June... yes... a song for June Carter Cash... if I could die and be reborn as Slaid Cleaves I know that I would be in heaven. It's written 1st person but feels like it isn't.

Sweet Louise... yes it's another 1st person but this guy is from the poorer or rough side of town.

Belle Star... Ok I knew by looking at the song that this one wasn't about Belle, there is another great one written in saga form by the greatest one Woody Guthrie... this one uses Belle Star as a comparison to a duet by Emmy and Marc... what a wonderful song.

Amelia... this is a first person song.. ."My name is Amelia..."... I'm not sure if Lucy wrote this or not, but wow, it's a story that hasn't died in over the 40 listens that I've given it. She's old, she tells her past, and her love for a young woman who has the spunk she grew up with... This is a crafted song... one that all aspiring song writers should aspire to.

Lovely Jamie... traditional ballad done is first person ... Lissa's voice is haunting in the song. She posted a video of this song mainly in the shadows. I'd love her to sing it to me, just that way.

Young Charlotte... A narrative about love affair.. Again this is from traditional poetry... I could see all in the horse buggies, horses farting all the way.. sorry I couldn't help myself.

Rachel's Song.. .a narrative about a runaway girl.

Julie... narrative about a woman needing to be free but working within society and her fit.

Ignatius.. I thought this was about a person but I'm not sure exactly sure what it's about beside love and separation. Hope can sing me a love through a song anytime she wants.

Diane... this one is funny because Heather told a story at a house concert that part of the song is about how a real Diane abandoned her in South Boston for some reason (lover/argument) so she wrote a song about her, and killed her off.

Liza Jane... Oh Liza... you were my toughest love... great song that sounds traditional.

Sweat pea... no name.. just a nice lover knicknamed Sweet Pea.

Natasha ... Like the Angela above women love women without all the baggage.

Barefoot Mary... great idea... use another name as a comparison to draw the feeling that others can relate to .. "I'll be your barefoot Mary"... Allison job well done.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Write to write... something good may come of it.

It was in March and it was a weird day. First I stayed home until I went to watch Dustin do a recital at highschool in front of a judge. Then off to work, a thirty minute drive. Then I left early because of snow, only to get home to find out that Dustin's violin lesson was still on and I needed to get BACK in the car and drive 20 minutes the other way. While sitting in the car this dark poem was written. You can find in it the noisy high school, the gifted musicians practicing in their silent rooms, and you can see that I was a little ticked about something during the day. Well I kind of liked it so I posted it to my DaveZeman MySpace blog, and Kim Davidson really liked it... before the night was done, she sent me the first demo. Just about floored me... taking the last stanza and making it a chorus; wow I never thought of that.

Lori has never liked the first verse, but I did finally explain to her my thoughts. While it is true that Romeo and Juliet truly die because of their love, the blessing is that they acted out the play. Their love wasn't just silent glances. How many times do true lovers stop themselves for ever sharing themselves with the other because they know, "It's not destined"... "She's too rich"... "I'm from the other side"... oh the stories are written about the lovers who try, but I'm going to guess most just let themselves be turned like the screwball they are.

The rest of the piece is really told in words that spin around really what was going thru my head. I don't write like this often, and think I should do more sometimes.

To the title... write to write... if you think it's a poem and it's done, maybe someone else will think otherwise.


Opposite Destiny

The story of Romeo and Juliet just ain’t true.
Lies perpetuated to give false hope to a few.
Opposites may be attracted but they aren’t destined.
In fact they are lucky to even get mentioned.

I walk these streets daily and see the races unite
The Goths aren’t the only who choose to isolate
The voice of the crowd mumbles into noisy chaos.
The thoughts of the few independent are crushed.

I go along walking to find a pocket of a chosen few.
Those young gifted talents still play in silence too.
Is this nature’s destiny, a dumbing of the culture?
Are we just dead meat on the block of the butcher?

SHOUT, SCREAM at the top of your lungs you fool.
But you won’t, because you have been schooled.
Act the part of a door knob and be turned again.
You’re where you are, and where you’re destined.

Lyrics by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs
Music by Kim Davidson © 2007

Now that you are interested... go buy it for a mere $.99. ;-)

Dave Zeman - Gypsy Soul













She made a better recording of it, and passed me a new one with her and her guitar... I added the rest of the instruments. I think it's wonderfully dark.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Find inspiration everywhere

Ok easier said than done? Many times I find myself out of the habit of writing to write. If you aren't writing, don't expect to have inspiration. It's kind of stupid but I find it's rare that inspiration slaps me or wakes me up to write something. Oh yes that has happened, but most of my writing, and many other songwriters that I've listened to, have said inspiration comes from connecting the dots that are already in your head. So sit down, relax and just write. If nothing good comes from it, stop, save, and do it again later.

I need to get back to my lunch haunt for writing which is the local Taco John. I can take my lap top after eating a meal spiced with their Super Green Hot sauce and let the brain juices flow. I wrote "Grace" there and I wrote "Drift Away" there among countless other piece, fragments and poems. Now "Drift Away" made it on the cd partly because I loved how the music came around, but the dots to connect.

It was about the time Lori was day care mom for Rob and Sonya's boys. Great people, great boys. Somewhere along the line I must have asked Sonya about how two Phy Ed teachers get together. Well the story is sketchy in my mind now but back then it was clear, they knew each other but it was for friends that pushed them together. Well that in my head and watching two parents fret over their children at the Taco Johns, and a song was born.

Of course all songs should touch every one on a part of their own life... don't you remember all those things too?

Again... my pet peeve... the story progresses through the song, and think it's truly only three short verses long.

Ok now I've gone and made myself hungry..... til next time.

Dave

Drift Away by Dave Schipper © 2006 Rose Riversongs


White roses and a glass of zin
Take me back to where we began
A small café with a deck outdoor
With so many laughs to explore

Don’t you find it easier to drift away?
Let your mind replay a perfect day.
Would the same words be in play?
Free yourself and just drift away


Friends behind the scene wrote the plot
A chance meeting we would think not
We Both remember when we first met
It took two years to get the date set


Today the café is Taco Johns
A quick lunch with our little ones.
A few words within wild foray
And maybe a dream to drift away

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Paraphrase a song you like

I think I got this assignment or idea from the Pierce Pettis workshop or handout. Either way, it works like this. Take a song you like... lay out the word and line for line (at least at the beginning) paraphrase what is being said in a different way.

One of the things you'll learn is how a successful song is written, and you'll off course sharpen your storytelling skills.

Here is one that I did that you'll recognize the song... or maybe not?

Sugary Love by Dave Schipper © 2005 Rose Riversongs

I lost track of you sometime during the storm
lost in the crowd, probably headed back to the dorm
Wasn’t just the tunes I heard, repeating the same few words
A petite eighteen and giggling though the night
The twinkle in your eyes yeah your outta site
You wear momma tight blue jeans, man your eyes are green

Chorus
You’re my sugary love, a spice from above
You’re an angel a queen, you know just what I mean
You got me so mixed up, You know I am in love (2x)

We’re a trouble to them all, when we walk down the street
Strange looks and stares, from the people we meet
It was the tunes we heard, repeating the same few words
Grizzly hands and soft ones meet’n stand out in a crowd
When the self righteous speak, we turn down the sound
We just young and old, singing Elvis pure and gold
(This line can substitude Elvis for Beatles, Eagles, Green Day could do it 4x?)


Of course after I got started the story changed, and that's the beauty behind the exercise.... didn't recognize the song?

Hey, where did we go
Days when the rains came ?
Down in the hollow
Playing a new game,
Laughing and a-running, hey, hey,
Skipping and a-jumping
In the misty morning fog with
Our, our hearts a-thumping
And you, my brown-eyed girl,

You, my brown-eyed girl.
Whatever happened
To tuesday and so slow
Going down to the old mine with a
Transistor radio.
Standing in the sunlight laughing
Hide behind a rainbows wall,
Slipping and a-sliding
All along the waterfall
With you, my brown-eyed girl,
You, my brown-eyed girl.

Do you remember when we used to sing
Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
Just like that
Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
La dee dah.

So hard to find my way
Now that Im all on my own.
I saw you just the other day,
My, how you have grown!
Cast my memory back there, lord,
Sometime Im overcome thinking about
Making love in the green grass
Behind the stadium
With you, my brown-eyed girl,
You, my brown-eyed girl.

Do you remember when we used to sing
Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
Laying in the green grass
Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
Dee dah dee dah dee dah dee dah dee dah dee
Sha la la la la la la la la la la la la
Dee dah la dee dah la dee dah la
D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d...

Rewrite to an old folk melody

Countless hymns have been written to old melodies and Bob Dylan & Woody Guthrie constantly borrowed from folk songs, so why not you or me.

This summer I joined Lori on many of her jewelry trips to the farmers market. With the price of gas, I didn't just help her setup and take off like in previous years. So I took either a guitar and/or a dulclimer to play instrumentally while people browsed. Of course the dulcimer was always questioned, "What's that?" But growing out of the experience was again my love of the folk melodies that I had learned over the years. Flowers of the Forest was one I learned from a Joe Hickersonn LP called Drive Dull Care Away. Joe is such a historian and blessed with a voice that not everyone warms too... so I thought, sounds familiar to my situation. When I went to sing the song, this is what I rediscovered.

I've heard the singing, at the ewe-milking,
Lassies a-singing before dawn of the day;
But now they are moaning on every milking-green;
"The Flowers of the Forest are all withered away".

Sorrow and woe for the order sent our lads to the Border!
The English for once, by guile won the day,
The Flowers of the Forest, that always fought the foremost,
The pride of our land lies cold in the clay.

I've heard the singing, at the ewe-milking,
Lassies a-singing before dawn of the day;
But now they are moaning on every milking-green;
"The Flowers of the Forest are all withered away".

Suffice to say, I thought it could be rephrased. Joe described the song and some of the odd words, and it helped me form new phrasing of some of the old, plus I added the storyline of modern soldiers coming home dead to pregnant wifes.

So let's today we pray for Flowers of the Forest:

I heard them laughing, at the sun’s setting
Young girls giggling before the dawn of day.
Now they are sobbing on green grass a growing
The flowers of the forest are laying to rest.

Once they had futures, and love a waiting.
Fathers and Mothers, a life to enjoy.
Then came the call, a service to them all.
A noble cause written, they stood tall and proud.

I heard them laughing, at the sun’s setting
Young girls giggling before the dawn of day.
Now they are sobbing on green grass a growing
The flowers of the forest are laying to rest.

Midnight songs a playing, shots and beer flowing
Smiles all a plenty, til the night is done.
Xcept for the lady, the moon cold and lonely
Thoughts of her flower, are growing inside.

Justice for the lowly, help for the helpless.
Brothers and sisters, a hand to them all.
Now there is silence, though debate rages loudly
These flowers of the forest, victims to the gall.

I heard them laughing, at the sun’s setting
Young girls giggling before the dawn of day.
Now they are sobbing on green grass a growing
The flowers of the forest are laying to rest.

The song made it on the cd but only after Nichola Maria O'Donnell took me up on my request to sing lead. Boy is her voice right for the song. It was after she did this that I was pushed to finish the cd and post it through TuneCore.com as a digital release.


Research the song... yep I probably should have done that : HA

I got those from WikiPedia Hey someone should add mine!

So what do you think? My version is pretty true to the original feeling of the song that has become a funeral melody done on bagpipes.... none on my song... just a wonderful woman's voice.

Now go out and try one yourself.