Friday, February 27, 2009
Story telling...
I figured I'd take a slightly different approach and go with a song telling a story. I can't say I'm big on lyrics, but they often stick in my head, and maybe I take a little meaning from them. This song, however, has caused me to watch shows on this, drink beer in honor of the men who lost their lives (courtesy of Great Lakes Brewing Co.), and just generally read up on it. Anyway, I don't know if I need to paste the lyrics in here as Gordon delivers them in a way that reading along seems pointless. Since he's playing here in South Bend soon, and the lake is close enough, this is what brought this to mind. Anyway, great song. Here's a video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q0DqPSF2fyo
Men at Work - Overkill
I caught an episode of Scrubs the other day in which Colin Hay appeared throughout the episode singing this song. It's always been my favorite Men at Work tune, and although the lyrics aren't necessarily elaborate, they are nonetheless very powerful...
I cant get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Perahaps its just my imagination
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
A look between the sheets
Only brings exasperation
Its time to walk the streets
Smell the desperation
But at least theres pretty lights
Although theres little variation
It nullifies the night
From overkill
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Come back another day
I cant get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Its just overkill
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Ghosts appear and fade away
Ghosts appear and fade away
I cant get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Perahaps its just my imagination
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
A look between the sheets
Only brings exasperation
Its time to walk the streets
Smell the desperation
But at least theres pretty lights
Although theres little variation
It nullifies the night
From overkill
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Come back another day
I cant get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Its just overkill
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Ghosts appear and fade away
Ghosts appear and fade away
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Widen that area of discussion
OK. Seems like me and Numbatoo Son are the only ones who appreciate really good lyrics. So...let's broaden the scope of the blog. Lets talk about songs, rifs, great guitarists, supergroups, little known music, soundtrack music from TV or films. Hell...ANYTHING to do with music!!
I have spent the entire morning, and the afternoon to present (2:23PM) listening to one of my jukebox CDs. It contains music from the mid 60's to the mid 70's. Over 200 songs. I started it about 8:30 and it's still playing.
In the past few songs, I have listened to The Four Tops, Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac (with Peter Green) and Quicksilver Messenger Service.
I could get by without my left nut or kidney, but I don't think I could without music. It truly does soothe the savage breast. (NOT Beast!!)
Contrary to what you may believe, I do like most of the music put forth by Numbatoo Son and The Peavy Kid. I'm going to link my Facebook and MySpace sites to the blog. Maybe that will create interest. If not, c'est la vie!
I have spent the entire morning, and the afternoon to present (2:23PM) listening to one of my jukebox CDs. It contains music from the mid 60's to the mid 70's. Over 200 songs. I started it about 8:30 and it's still playing.
In the past few songs, I have listened to The Four Tops, Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac (with Peter Green) and Quicksilver Messenger Service.
I could get by without my left nut or kidney, but I don't think I could without music. It truly does soothe the savage breast. (NOT Beast!!)
Contrary to what you may believe, I do like most of the music put forth by Numbatoo Son and The Peavy Kid. I'm going to link my Facebook and MySpace sites to the blog. Maybe that will create interest. If not, c'est la vie!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Sunday Mornin' Coming Down
A little bonus. The linked YouTube performance was recorded at a Johnny Cash tribute. Johnny recorded the song and started Kris' mainstream road to fame. Some of us had already embraced his wisdom and lyrics as we listened to his first album in 1970.
The performance is by Kris and The Foo Fighters.
Kris Kristofferson. One hell of a songwriter. A Dylanesque voice that you either embrace or hate. In this one he captures that Sunday morning feeling that all of us have experienced. Maybe in college. Or when you were single. Divorced and between marriages. The morning after you passed out at a friend's apartment. The hangover-induced headache. The self pity. The lonesome desperation. "It echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dreams of yesterday."
The pitiful deal with God that you would never do it again.
"There ain't nothin' short of dying half as lonesome as the sound on the sleeping city sidewalks - Sunday morning coming down."
Sunday Morning Coming Down
Well I woke up Sunday morning,
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
I'd smoked my brain the night before,
On cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin'.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
Cussin' at a can that he was kicking.
Then I crossed the empty street,
'n caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken.
And it took me back to somethin',
That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.
In the park I saw a daddy,
With a laughin' little girl who he was swingin'.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
And listened to the song they were singin'.
Then I headed back for home,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'.
And it echoed through the canyons,
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.
The performance is by Kris and The Foo Fighters.
Kris Kristofferson. One hell of a songwriter. A Dylanesque voice that you either embrace or hate. In this one he captures that Sunday morning feeling that all of us have experienced. Maybe in college. Or when you were single. Divorced and between marriages. The morning after you passed out at a friend's apartment. The hangover-induced headache. The self pity. The lonesome desperation. "It echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dreams of yesterday."
The pitiful deal with God that you would never do it again.
"There ain't nothin' short of dying half as lonesome as the sound on the sleeping city sidewalks - Sunday morning coming down."
Sunday Morning Coming Down
Well I woke up Sunday morning,
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
I'd smoked my brain the night before,
On cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin'.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
Cussin' at a can that he was kicking.
Then I crossed the empty street,
'n caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken.
And it took me back to somethin',
That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.
In the park I saw a daddy,
With a laughin' little girl who he was swingin'.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
And listened to the song they were singin'.
Then I headed back for home,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'.
And it echoed through the canyons,
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
The Real Thing
Throughout my entire life this has remained one of my favorite songs.
It's about life in it's purest, most raw and simplistic forms. It is everything that is visceral about your life. It's that split-second that lasts forever, whether it's a car-crash, a fist-fight, or making love. It's the heights of ecstasy and the deepest, darkest despair, and how they are the defining moments in our lives.
The title is linked to a 'video' of the song. Since there was never an official video it's just the album cover. I'll do this whenever possible because I feel like hearing the lyrics in the context of the song helps convey the intended emotions.
Also I'd like to point out the very talented Mike Bordin is drummer for now-defunct Faith No More, and as some of you older readers may be aware, he's apparently so good at what he does that Ozzy Osborne asked him to be Ozzy's permanent touring drummer. In this particular song I like the touch of adding the heartbeat-beat to further reinforce the core of what the song is about.
Enough jibber-jabber!
Lyrics:
I know the feeling
It is the real thing
The essence of the truth.
The perfect moment
That golden moment
I know you feel it too.
I know the feeling
It is the real thing
You can't refuse the embrace...
NO!
It's like the pattern below the skin
You gotta reach out and pull it all in.
And you feel like you're too close
But you swallow another dose.
The pinnacle of happiness
Filling up your soul.
You don't think you can take any more
You never wanna let go.
Cause it's the root of experience,
The most basic ingredients,
To see the unseen glitter of life,
And feel the dirt, grief, anger and strife.
Cherish the certainty of now,
It kills you a bit at a time.
Cradle the inspiration,
It will leave you writhing on the floor...
This is so unreal,
What I feel,
This nourishment,
Life is bent,
Into a shape,
I can't hold,
A twist of fate,
All my own,
Just grit your teeth,
And make no sound,
Take a step away
And look around,
Just clench your fist,
And close your eyes,
Look deep inside.
Hypnotize,
The whisper is
But a shout.
That's what it is,
All about,
Yes, the ecstasy,
You can pray,
You will never let,
It slip away.
Like the sacred song that someone sings through you.
Like the flesh so warm that the thorn sticks into.
Like the dream you know one day will come to life.
Try to hold on just a little longer, longer, stronger, stronger.
It's the jewel of victory,
In the chasm of misery.
And once you have bitten the core
You will always know the flavor.
The split second of divinity;
You drink up the sky;
All of heaven is in your arms,
You know the reason why.
It's right there, all by itself
And what you are, there is nothing else
You're growing a life within a life.
The lips of wonder kiss you inside.
And when it's over the feeling remains.
It all comes down to this.
The smoke clears, I see what it is
That made me feel this way...
I know the feeling
It is the real thing
The essence of the truth.
The perfect moment
That golden moment
I know you feel it too.
I know the feeling
It is the real thing
You can't refuse the embrace...
This is so unreal,
What I feel,
Flood, sell your soul,
Feel the blood,
Pump through your veins,
Can't explain,
The element that's everything,
Just clench your fist,
And close your eyes,
Look deep inside,
Hypnotize
Yes, the ecstasy,
You can pray
You will never let it slip away.
Yes, the ecstasy,
You can pray,
You will never let it slip away.
You will never let it slip away.
You will never let it slip away.
Like the echoes of your childhood laughter, ever after.
Like the first time love urged you to take it's guidance, in silence.
Like your heartbeat when you realize you're dying, but you're trying.
Like the way you cry for a happy ending, ending...
I know the feeling
It is the real thing.
It's about life in it's purest, most raw and simplistic forms. It is everything that is visceral about your life. It's that split-second that lasts forever, whether it's a car-crash, a fist-fight, or making love. It's the heights of ecstasy and the deepest, darkest despair, and how they are the defining moments in our lives.
The title is linked to a 'video' of the song. Since there was never an official video it's just the album cover. I'll do this whenever possible because I feel like hearing the lyrics in the context of the song helps convey the intended emotions.
Also I'd like to point out the very talented Mike Bordin is drummer for now-defunct Faith No More, and as some of you older readers may be aware, he's apparently so good at what he does that Ozzy Osborne asked him to be Ozzy's permanent touring drummer. In this particular song I like the touch of adding the heartbeat-beat to further reinforce the core of what the song is about.
Enough jibber-jabber!
Lyrics:
I know the feeling
It is the real thing
The essence of the truth.
The perfect moment
That golden moment
I know you feel it too.
I know the feeling
It is the real thing
You can't refuse the embrace...
NO!
It's like the pattern below the skin
You gotta reach out and pull it all in.
And you feel like you're too close
But you swallow another dose.
The pinnacle of happiness
Filling up your soul.
You don't think you can take any more
You never wanna let go.
Cause it's the root of experience,
The most basic ingredients,
To see the unseen glitter of life,
And feel the dirt, grief, anger and strife.
Cherish the certainty of now,
It kills you a bit at a time.
Cradle the inspiration,
It will leave you writhing on the floor...
This is so unreal,
What I feel,
This nourishment,
Life is bent,
Into a shape,
I can't hold,
A twist of fate,
All my own,
Just grit your teeth,
And make no sound,
Take a step away
And look around,
Just clench your fist,
And close your eyes,
Look deep inside.
Hypnotize,
The whisper is
But a shout.
That's what it is,
All about,
Yes, the ecstasy,
You can pray,
You will never let,
It slip away.
Like the sacred song that someone sings through you.
Like the flesh so warm that the thorn sticks into.
Like the dream you know one day will come to life.
Try to hold on just a little longer, longer, stronger, stronger.
It's the jewel of victory,
In the chasm of misery.
And once you have bitten the core
You will always know the flavor.
The split second of divinity;
You drink up the sky;
All of heaven is in your arms,
You know the reason why.
It's right there, all by itself
And what you are, there is nothing else
You're growing a life within a life.
The lips of wonder kiss you inside.
And when it's over the feeling remains.
It all comes down to this.
The smoke clears, I see what it is
That made me feel this way...
I know the feeling
It is the real thing
The essence of the truth.
The perfect moment
That golden moment
I know you feel it too.
I know the feeling
It is the real thing
You can't refuse the embrace...
This is so unreal,
What I feel,
Flood, sell your soul,
Feel the blood,
Pump through your veins,
Can't explain,
The element that's everything,
Just clench your fist,
And close your eyes,
Look deep inside,
Hypnotize
Yes, the ecstasy,
You can pray
You will never let it slip away.
Yes, the ecstasy,
You can pray,
You will never let it slip away.
You will never let it slip away.
You will never let it slip away.
Like the echoes of your childhood laughter, ever after.
Like the first time love urged you to take it's guidance, in silence.
Like your heartbeat when you realize you're dying, but you're trying.
Like the way you cry for a happy ending, ending...
I know the feeling
It is the real thing.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
My Back Pages
First - enjoy the YouTube video. Dylan is there. So are Neil Young, Tom Petty, Eric Clapton, George Harrison and Roger McGuinn.
The hook. "I was so much older then; I'm younger than that now."
When we're young, we're so damned smart. We know everything. No one can tell us anything. As we get older, we realize that our parents, teachers, professors and neighbors MAY have actually known something.
"High and mighty traps". Get too important in your own mind and you're setting yourself up for a big downfall.
Dylan is one of the original protest singers. Not the weak shit spouted by Bono and U2. They treat the audience like a bunch of idiots who can't think or understand. Dylan used lyrical metaphors. He painted pictures that you can actually see when you listen to his lyrics. But you have to pay attention. Listen more than once. You'll pick up something new every time you listen to one of his songs.
One thing. His voice sucks. Big time! It got worse after the debacle at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 when he first went electric. It may have been the aging process or his incessant smoking. Not that I don't like his electric stuff; I do. His early 60's songs seemed to have more heart.
He was Mr. Tambourine Man. And we followed.
My Back Pages
Lyrics by Bob Dylan - 1964
Crimson flames tied through my ears
Rollin' high and mighty traps
Pounced with fire on flaming roads
Using ideas as my maps
"We'll meet on edges, soon," said I
Proud 'neath heated brow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth
"Rip down all hate," I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull. I dreamed
Romantic facts of musketeers
Foundationed deep, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
Girls' faces formed the forward path
From phony jealousy
To memorizing politics
Of ancient history
Flung down by corpse evangelists
Unthought of, though, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
A self-ordained professor's tongue
Too serious to fool
Spouted out that liberty
Is just equality in school
"Equality," I spoke the word
As if a wedding vow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
In a soldier's stance, I aimed my hand
At the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not that I'd become my enemy
In the instant that I preach
My pathway led by confusion boats
Mutiny from stern to bow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
The hook. "I was so much older then; I'm younger than that now."
When we're young, we're so damned smart. We know everything. No one can tell us anything. As we get older, we realize that our parents, teachers, professors and neighbors MAY have actually known something.
"High and mighty traps". Get too important in your own mind and you're setting yourself up for a big downfall.
Dylan is one of the original protest singers. Not the weak shit spouted by Bono and U2. They treat the audience like a bunch of idiots who can't think or understand. Dylan used lyrical metaphors. He painted pictures that you can actually see when you listen to his lyrics. But you have to pay attention. Listen more than once. You'll pick up something new every time you listen to one of his songs.
One thing. His voice sucks. Big time! It got worse after the debacle at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 when he first went electric. It may have been the aging process or his incessant smoking. Not that I don't like his electric stuff; I do. His early 60's songs seemed to have more heart.
He was Mr. Tambourine Man. And we followed.
My Back Pages
Lyrics by Bob Dylan - 1964
Crimson flames tied through my ears
Rollin' high and mighty traps
Pounced with fire on flaming roads
Using ideas as my maps
"We'll meet on edges, soon," said I
Proud 'neath heated brow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth
"Rip down all hate," I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull. I dreamed
Romantic facts of musketeers
Foundationed deep, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
Girls' faces formed the forward path
From phony jealousy
To memorizing politics
Of ancient history
Flung down by corpse evangelists
Unthought of, though, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
A self-ordained professor's tongue
Too serious to fool
Spouted out that liberty
Is just equality in school
"Equality," I spoke the word
As if a wedding vow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
In a soldier's stance, I aimed my hand
At the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not that I'd become my enemy
In the instant that I preach
My pathway led by confusion boats
Mutiny from stern to bow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
I Hope You Dance
I thought I'd start out with one that I should NOT like on so many fronts. It's country. It's preachy. But, I love the song!
The title, by itself, sums up life in just four words. We all remember those junior and high school dances. In my case, there were also the local church socials. There were always kids (Jimmy Wisnowicz, Sonny Kupiec, The Volpe Brothers) who were always on the dance floor. Then there were those of us who felt awkward or self-conscious and would not go out there unless someone dragged us. Once we got out there, we enjoyed the hell out of it! Why did we waste so much time on the side when we could have been enjoying life?
What more could you wish for your child. I hope you dance.
Song performed by Lee Ann Womack
Music and Lyrics by Mark D. Sanders/Tia Sillers
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance I hope you dance
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out Reconsider
Give the heavens above More than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance (Time is a real and constant motion always)
I hope you dance (Rolling us along)
I hope you dance (Tell me who)
I hope you dance (Wants to look back on their youth and wonder where those years have gone)
The title, by itself, sums up life in just four words. We all remember those junior and high school dances. In my case, there were also the local church socials. There were always kids (Jimmy Wisnowicz, Sonny Kupiec, The Volpe Brothers) who were always on the dance floor. Then there were those of us who felt awkward or self-conscious and would not go out there unless someone dragged us. Once we got out there, we enjoyed the hell out of it! Why did we waste so much time on the side when we could have been enjoying life?
What more could you wish for your child. I hope you dance.
Song performed by Lee Ann Womack
Music and Lyrics by Mark D. Sanders/Tia Sillers
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance I hope you dance
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out Reconsider
Give the heavens above More than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance (Time is a real and constant motion always)
I hope you dance (Rolling us along)
I hope you dance (Tell me who)
I hope you dance (Wants to look back on their youth and wonder where those years have gone)
Let's Start Discussing Lyrics
I set this up so everyone can access it. It's an online forum to discuss song lyrics. Login at Google at lyricsdiscussion@gmail.com The password is "let's discuss". Yes - with the apostrophe and space between the two words. Let's see what happens and see where it goes. ANYONE who wants to contribute to the blog is welcome to do so.
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