LOOKIN' FOR RAINBOWS

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

even the shadows are a gift from the sun

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

plenty of fish in the creek

and the best one on the line

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(refrain) don't go lookin' for rainbows

you've already got the gold

don't go tellin' stories you already know

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

don't go lookin' for rainbows

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

say it again, and again you'll fall

tell her you're glad she got hold of you

this time on the phone, and the first time too

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refrain

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

find the one who's good for you

say it right and make it true

and don't go lookin' for rainbows
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i know, it's not great. i took a day off to help some friends, and i lost the groove.

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

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

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

Hey Darlin'

hey, hey darlin'

the wind from Santa Ana

is blowing through my ears

and messin' with my mind

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hey, hey darlin'

it moves that dress you're wearin'

and wild shining hair

it looks like you're still tryin'

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

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

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hey, hey darlin'

those boots might be walkin'

but they looks so good

underneath my bed

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hey, hey darlin'

to stay don't mean a long time

i feel like i've done mine

here inside my head

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(refrain)

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hey, hey darlin'

the wind from Santa Ana

is blowing you away

right out of my mind

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hey, hey darlin'

that dress you're wearin'

looks better from the back

and you're not even tryin'

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(refrain)

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

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

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

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

Beast and Brother

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

we give him his release / never say "die"

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

in this clash of will / Art versus Power

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

we love, we kill the other

'round goes the world

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

you try to follow that / someone gets hurt

yield to the younger man / the man of peace

let him find his own / release

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beast and brother / and still a lonely girl

we love, we kill the other

'round goes the world

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and the noble beast / no longer waits

we give him his release / and a gate

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beast and brother / there stands a lonely girl

we love, we kill the other

'round goes the world

'round goes the world

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

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

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

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

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

I See You in Crowds

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

DUSTY by Fred Eaglesmith

Across the mesa, the daylight shines

in your eyes, and it makes you blind

And in your head, sirens wail

They just let you out of jail

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

Your guns are rusty / and your soul is too

The Texas is wearin' off of your leather boots

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

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There's tobacco inside your cuffs

and you drink too much

but it's never enough

People stare at you

as you stand and cough

Might be the weather / Might be the dust

-refrain

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

Teardrops in your heart and gravel in your eye

-refrain

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

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

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

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STILL DUSTY

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

Linus or Charlie Brown, philosopher or clown,

dark or daylight?"

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

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

My guns are rusty / it isn't just me

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

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

Canyons and hillsides, / alone or by her side,

Upsides and downs

-(refrain)

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

in that bang-up rodeo i did for free

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

i said it's better to feel

something

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

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

in dark or daylight

-(refrain)

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

Songwritingly Challenged

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.