Songwritingly Challenged

Happy Groundhog Day!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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I'll Be Ready

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

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

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

The evening wind is empty / but it pulls another dawn

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refrain: When winter comes, i'll be ready

When temperatures are low, and steady

Life goes underground

Snow contains the sound

When silence comes around, i'll be ready

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

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

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

Thin ice on the lake / begging to be broken

refrain

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

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

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

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

refrain

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

The colour-scented season / beneath it all

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

Cemetery flowers / you won't have to bring

refrain

living a dream

dear Terra,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

come on, dreams, i want to fly tonight

come on, dreams - damsels to save.

they're all around, i hear them calling,

and i'm feeling brave

i've been having these daylight dreams

how could life be as good as it seems?

i don't want to change a thing

now, about these damsels...

refrain

i dared to dream, some nights

of a creature i would ride

a Spanish butterfly

in search of damsels...

refrain

(bridge:)

the creature has a name

my head is turned, and turning gray

who will save this day?

my damsels.

such a shock, when dreams come true

you become a bigger "you"

now i'm painting what i drew

bring on those damsels...

come on, dreams.

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

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

and Spanish for butterfly would be "mariposa".

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

inspiration i could live without

Terra, David. David, Terra.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

cheerslove
paul

Between the Covers

Dear Terra,

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

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

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

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

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

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

cheerslove

paul

Life is Short. Make Music

Dear Terra,

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

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

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

i'm turning 60 next year.

go gently, Lar.

cheerslove

paul

A Project becomes a Primer

Dear Terra,

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

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

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

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

cheerslove

paul

The Creative Imperative

Dear Terra,

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

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

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

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

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

cheerslove,

paul