I once told Lori I was going to write a novel; she laughed and said, "You have to read more than two books in you life first." Well my 1000 LP, 500 CDS and 8 days of iTunes music would give me background to re-energize my songwriting.
As retirement nears, officially April 29th, I KNOW I'm going to find more time to listen to music and write. My routine of writing each morning on a word will start back up and likely the creative juices will be flowing again, and I can see myself revisiting this site as partner in writing to the world.
I stop by at times and marvel that there are views daily to something I published over a decade ago; but good writing and good music does not have an expiration date.
Dave's Basement Tracks that originally started as a radio show is evolving to a streamable show of Bandcamp embedded links and YouTube videos, and celebrates music. Each post will have a theme or make a good hour radio show; yet of course you are in control as you read and click on the links that interest you. If you are a writer of songs, you likely also study them like I do. Finding connections will be a big part; as demonstrated in a recent challenge to find songs with River, Murder, and Trains in the song. Read it over, maybe take that on as a writing challenge. Let me know you might be featured on the next one.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I revisited a song that I wrote a while back based on a little inspiration from Hope Waits. She had posted a picture of herself in blue sepiatones, and was recently lamenting loneliness in the city of Hollywood. A few other tidbits may have a tie into reality, but the song flows as a fictional story. This lady I don't know if I want to meet, but Hope Waits... anytime with her incredible gutsy vocals with a style of Billie Holiday but mixed heavily with Bonnie Raitt.
Funny thing happens when you revisit a song after three years, you re-write a line or two, change a few chords, and maybe make it better. Song writing isn't a science, and it isn't a contest; it's a passion to tell a short story in 3-4 minutes. Why stick your head in a book for days... here you go... here's atleast a chapeter with pictures no less of the beautiful Hope Waits The songwriting tidbits follow later...
She fixated on a venomous moment Surrounded by a harried world. Just sits alone with her personal torment. A bottle of Jack numbs the senses Maybe she’ll go dress up with pearls tonight Hit the bars and take some chances.
The lady in blue has a life to choose. The lady in blue stuck in Hollywood. The lady in blue turns to look away The lady in blue will find a way.
Her tall and slender frame turns heads She’s learned to ignore them easily But with this she’s added a hard edge. An armor of cold disdain for true love She can crush those who come weakly Leaving her left with the just the stuff.
The lady in blue has a life to choose. The lady in blue stuck in Hollywood. The lady in blue turns to look away The lady in blue will find a way.
A trickle of hope is never really gone She was raised with grace and joy But left it behind to write her song The lady bumps into life in the dark Will she choose to notice or be coy? And in the end she’s just make a choice.
Verse one recounts Sabrina Kufner's whiskey inspired video I watched about that time, and Hope's studio pictures with beautiful pearls.
Chorus tries to pick up on her lament, did she choose right to move to LA for her beautiful New Orleans home... just to make her mark. Well if she didn't, the producer of Norah Jones first record wouldn't have found her, and I would have never had heard her... choices.
Oh the second verse is my imagination. Remember I am a shy guy who aspired to every beautiful girl in high school... thus I have scar tissue around my heart, what a joy it beats so strongly.
The third verse is why I'm writing the blog... Hope has a large family and while I know a few from other blogs, she definitely has a sister name Joy and Grace... Ha... so that's my inside joke but it does fit the story line either way. She did notice me and someday we'll have a good laugh and hug when she travels to meet the future in-laws in Michigan.... can't wait.
Tonight during the rainstorm I had a chance to pick up the acoustic guitar and find the chords that belonged to the lead below... I like it, and while you think I should like them all... that's not the case.
Ok I had to clean it up, and it goes pretty fast so I added a partial verse for to stretch the ending and then go back to the chorus. I did get rid of TEXT... just didn't like singing it.. it was weird to me and years from now. Wait to hear will still be in the vocabulary, who knows about texting. I hope it's gone next year. Queer was added and Nerd stayed... HA... slang that I think will stick. no video this time... sorry.
It is Finished
Every night I wait to hear And I cling to every word Replies that leave me feelin’ queer Just feeling like a nerd
Then there is a glimpse of hope A new life again after death Only to find a new tight rope We have drawn our last breath
It is finished, we are through I beg forgiveness to the Lord For you know not what you do In the guise of loving true
Today I found my Damascus path And my eyes were suddenly clear Words you said too gift wrapped I see there were just cavalier
Today I see I was on your strings Trained to stay somewhere near So say goodbye to your plaything You’ve lost a treasure dear
It is finished, we are through I beg forgiveness to the Lord For you know not what you do In the guise of loving true
It is finished and time to rise Take a hold again of my life Our love was nothing to despise But it was severed by your lies.
Yes I've heard this but have done it rarely. Yes I've written Angel in Disguise on the piano and Gypsy Soul was started on the mandolin. Tonight I felt tired of writing happy songs and I had this overwhelming passion to create a song inspired by Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah.
Ok, so true to his tweaking of King David's Bathsheba story, I thought about the road to Damascus and thought why not find a moment when true love was found NOT to be true. Wow... then I had the words "It is finished" run through my head. Kim will read this so I do tread on blasphemy, but she knows I'm a true believer. Who knows that God isn't inspiring me to use the words to open up the Bible to new ears. I digress but these things do flow through your mind.
So know I had a parts of the puzzle, I was determined it would not sound like another song I've written. So I plugged in Dustin's electric guitar, turned the patch to "METAL STACK", and then words and melody collided. I started with It is Finished... knew it was the chorus immediately. Remember the Chorus has to be the best part of the song, though if the rest is weak it'll be forgotten quickly. Then down my Damascus, but unlike Paul my revelation was that I was blinded by love.
What I love about it so far is that it can swing either voice, but I'm not crazy that I took the plunge to use Text. Such a modern phrase. I might stick with some and offend others. Now for the treat... I recorded the rift so that I can go back to work tomorrow without trying to remember it. It promises to be a busy week so I might now re-visit this for a while. Now I'll remember it later. The video starts with the chorus's melody line.
Finally yes some might find tangents in Dustin's current love life, but truly if it's in there so are many other pieces and parts from other love lives that I've ran into over the last 52 years.
It is Finished
Every night I wait for a text And I cling to every word Replies that leave me so perplex Just feeling like a nerd
Then there is a glimpse of hope A new life again after death Only to find a new tight rope We have drawn our last breath
It is finished, we are through I beg forgiveness to the Lord For you know not what you do In the guise of loving true
Today I found my Damascus path And my eyes were suddenly clear Words you said too gift wrapped I see there were just chevalier
Today I see I was on your strings Trained to stay somewhere near So say goodbye to your plaything You’ve lost a treasure dear
It is finished, we are through I beg forgiveness to the Lord For you know not what you do In the guise of loving true
ok lose any thought you ever have of being gifted... if you have a talented it might have been seeded in you by a higher being, so get over it. Today I was sent a beautiful poem written by a friend of the band, Justin Bodin. It needed work to make it a lyric, but it didn't need alot, and it didn't need to force a ryhme where his words were fine.
Roll with the punches and give it a shot... boy I was happy things flowed quickly. Love must have been in the lines. I'll take credit for the melody, but any word tweaks I did... were really to enhance Justin's words. Enjoy Angels...
Chorus When the Angels come out In the moonlight they sing To the Heaven’s above And they praise the Lord
When the Angels get together Around the stars They dance on the moon All night long
When you opened the kingdom of heaven to me For everyone to see You gave us a new life and happiness For others to see you.
Chorus
When we walk hand in hand with Angels on earth All people created by God We sing with the power of heavens above For others to see you.
So this year I turn 52 on May 2nd... or 5/2/10. So does that make it a golden oldie birthday?
It's also at stage in life that if I add 20 more years and then die, it will be the same age that my dad died. Since Dustin is also turning 20 this year, it was pretty much a cosmic of play of numbers that brought this next lyric together. Frankly, I can't see myself putting a melody to this. Any songwriter out there, here's an opportunity to for cowriting.
There is a line from a song that I wish I wrote, "I'm too old to die young" at this moment I don't remember who to give credit to for the line. I wove it into the last verse. My take is that if I'm too old to die young, that I'm currently at a stage that It's a shame that he died early. Well isn't that precious.
And all you people out there, don't worry I've got my faith right, I got a smile on my face, and I've lived a good life.... and don't even try to tell me that Five, Fifteen and Fifty would work in the song too ... HA.... 102 now wouldn't that be something.
Back at sixteen Life was a fog of friends and hormones Everything obscene Looking back I was such a moron.
At twenty one I knew that I was a young stud Never outdone Just a pauper with royal blood
I pray Two, Ten or Twenty Lord? No wait, Don’t tell me what’s in store. Just push Me in some direction And hope I make the right selection.
Then at thirty A couple more years of being dinks Life was pretty Though time moved at the speed of blinks
No fear forty It was all the Legos money could buy That and tree forts I even learned what it was to tythe.
I pray Two, Ten or Twenty Lord? No wait, Don’t tell me what’s in store. Just push Me in some direction And hope I make the right selection.
Fifty two and I’m too old to die young they say. So what’s the plan? To put a smile on my face everyday.
And with God’s grace Make a home where love resides ‘Cuz just in case They end up saying, it’s a shame he died
Let's be honest... I'm not going to tell you how to write a gang song but let's dig deep into the ballad format of the folk tradition. We all knew Bonnie and Clyde were going to get it, and so this thinking slips in occassionally when I get a chance to write. This song came to me while playing the chord progression from "All along the Watchtower" Yes the guitar players will hear the same chords in the "Across" verses; but pacing is such never really to be stolen but more borrowed... hey just ask Bob... he's done the same thing.
Now back to the story and progression. Across the river was the first words that came to me, and I'll always recommend the same discipline that goes into novel... write a story that makes sense with all the writing gadgets they use in 300 pages, but you have just a mere few verses. Foreshadowing is always fun. Finding local landmarks to solidify reality gives the song texture. Tying lyrics together with themes or patterns make the song writing interesting... if it's better who knows but it's definitely gotcha if you read them later after you love them.
Now the inspiration... just my imagination of what it must have been like 100 years ago on the St James River... with guys who don't have any morals, but locals who do.
Across the river to the house of ill repute Marked the ghostly traveled evil trade route. They were legends they were men Their blood would flow from that gambling den.
When the midnight fell across Pace isle Curses melted this frail woman child. Laughter and smoke filled the air so vile Rot in hell you damn pedophile.
Across the river came boat sleek and dark Filled with men from the local city Clark. Dressed in black and dressed to kill In just moments, their wishes were filled.
As the door opened and they walked in The was no shattering this crowd’s din Their way was clear to the backdoor And seconds to settling the score.
Across the river the shots cried out The law handed to this pathetic lout The dark angels showed no mercy around The blood flowed on this evil ground.
When the midnight passed across Pace isle Solemn embraced this frail woman child Silence and smoke fill the air so vile. Rot in hell those damn pedophiles.
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)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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
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
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...
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.
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
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.
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."
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.
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.
