I have a spring in my step today because I am springing a new song on you. It’s called “Spring’s Out.” You don’t have to spring for it because it’s free for the listening. (Spring into action and click below!) Even if you’re no spring chicken, I hope this song makes you spring to your feet and dance a little jig. Punxsutawney Phil predicted six more weeks of winter, but it looks like an early spring to me!
Disclaimers: I am not a musician. I don’t “play” an instrument. I never practice. But that doesn’t stop me from trying to learn a tune for the sake of a song. For “Spring’s Out,” I managed to strum a ukulele, both up and down. In the same vein, I don’t pretend to be a singer. My recordings are demos, waiting to be sung by someone who can actually sing. My songs are, however, invitations into my heart.
“Spring’s Out” contains four sound effects, from Zapsplat.com.
Spring’s Out
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Title: “Spring’s Out”
Number: 14
Length: 1:53
Vibe/inspiration: Nostalgia
Keys: F major and B-flat major
What I imagine people might say if they had to use the word spring:
“Maybe the next one will be a winner; hope springs eternal.”
“I’d like to spring to the defense of this song, but I can’t.”
“If I was doing spring cleaning, this song wouldn’t make it.”
“My springer spaniel could produce something better, if you know what I mean.”
“Spring forward, fall on your face.”
Lyrics:
Who needs stuff When we’ve got love?
Spring’s out in the armchair If you do your crossword there Beware It’s gotten rather threadbare— It could snare Your derrière
Sixteen across Is albatross
Spring’s out, spring’s out Shimmy down the downspout, baby No doubt, no doubt Jimmy’s bedroom light is out!
Who needs stuff When we’ve got love?
Spring’s out in the ceiling Give the roofing man a ring- A-ling You’d better move your six-string Could you bring A bucket-thing?
Come rain or shine The weather’s fine
Spring’s out, spring’s out Shimmy down the downspout, baby No doubt, no doubt Jimmy’s bedroom light is out!
[Instrumental chorus]
Who needs stuff When we’ve got love?
Spring’s out in the garden Hollyhock and hyacinth Are in Here’s Nora with a clothespin— How’ve you been? Your kith and kin?
Forget me not If I should rot
Spring’s out, spring’s out Shimmy down the downspout, baby No doubt, no doubt Jimmy’s bedroom light is out!
Spring’s out, spring’s out Scurry up the downspout, baby Don’t pout, don’t pout Hurry up, the sun is out!
I thought it was time for a progress report on my “hot” list—songs I have written, or at least conceived of, that are currently inspiring me but are not yet recorded.
I feel lucky (and lazy) to have three songs written and just waiting to be recorded on my living room couch. I know what you’re thinking: “Slow down, Karen! Leave some songs for the rest of us.” I consider a song “written” if it has complete lyrics, a melody, a solid arrangement, and a title that seems likely to stick around. (These elements are subject to change, of course, and often do.)
The first song waiting to be warbled into a mike is the very first one I wrote. It was inspired, in equal parts, by Brahms’s lullaby and “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” I wanted the chorus to be in German—and to rhyme. But the extent of my knowledge of German was, and essentially remains, “Gesundheit.” As the song involved no sneezing, I was stuck. After a little research, I managed to compose a few brief lines in German. Do they rhyme? That’s not for me to say.
The second song poised to become noise pollution is an upbeat ditty called “Spring’s Out.” It’s about sneaking out of (or into) the house when you’re a kid—which is pure fantasy, as I never left (or returned to) the homestead without my parents’ knowledge, not even once! True to form, the first verse has snuck out:
“Spring’s Out” (first verse)
Spring’s out in the armchair If you do your crossword there Beware It’s gotten rather threadbare— It could snare Your derrière
The third song champing at the bit is “If I Roam.” With hymnlike verses and a rousing chorus, “If I Roam” is an anthem to the enduring allure of “home”—whatever that means to you. Speaking of the chorus, have a look at it before it gallops off:
“If I Roam” (chorus)
If I roam, roam, roam My soul will call me home If I roam, roam, roam My heart will lead me home Lead me home
I would also like to take a moment to recognize the seventy-nine song ideas that are currently languishing on my computer. For example…
Last October, a dining companion told me a completely charming story from his days as a college student in Vermont. When summer came, he decided to cross Canada by train. I think you can guess what happened next: he met a girl! Her final destination was Alaska; his was California. I knew it had to be a song. Still in the conceptual stage, “Each Time She Hangs a Picture” will probably be narrative in style, with a country flavor.
Hopefully, at least some of the tunes mentioned in this post will be coming your way in 2023—but please don’t misconstrue this as a New Year’s resolution. Twelve months from now, I don’t want anyone asking, “Hey, where’s that number with the grammatically incorrect German?”
I don’t know what you did this year, but you must have been naughty, because you’re getting my Christmas song (listen below!). Though I tend to be a very private person, I granted a rare interview with myself—to myself—so that you might learn more about this seasonal ode.
Q: Okay, that stops right there. A: What? Q: Flowery language like “seasonal ode.” A: What if I’m talking about a poinsettia? Wouldn’t flowery language be appropriate then? Even necessary? Q: This is going to be a long interview.
On celebrity cameos… Q: What are a few of your favorite things about “The Christmas After This”? A: Hey, I like what you did there! Q: I’m not a total grinch. A: One of my favorite things about this song is that it contains celebrity voices. Q: Such as? A: Such as Betty White quoting Robert Browning. Q: How did you manage that? A: I have my ways. Q: Don’t pretend I don’t know your ways! I’m aware of everything you think, say, or do. A: There are fifteen celebrity voices in all. Q: Any more answers to questions I never asked?
On fanfare… A: Another of my favorite things about this song is that it opens with literal fanfare. Q: A short and lively sounding of trumpets? A: Yes. Not to toot my own horn. Q: Are you saying that you didn’t play trumpet on the recording? A: No. Q: So, you did play trumpet on the recording? A: No. I’m saying yes, I didn’t play trumpet on the recording. Q: I’m glad we cleared that up. A: I’m not good with wind instruments. I don’t have enough hot air, if you can believe that. Q: I really can’t. A: I tried to learn the flute, when I was a kid, but I was awful. I kept going to the lessons, though, because I liked the orange soda in the vending machine. Q: I’m pretending not to know you.
On Christmas love songs… Q: What is “The Christmas After This” about? A: It’s about getting engaged at Christmas, to be married the following Christmas. Q: So, it’s a love song. A: I think all Christmas songs are love songs. Q: How so? A: They woo the perfect Christmas—which remains sweetly out of reach. Q: What did I say about flowery language? A: Sorry. Q: Do you think getting married on Christmas would be romantic? A: I do. Just family and close friends. Big red bows everywhere, and pinecones. Candles burning. It’s perfect because everyone’s already in a festive mood. Q: What’s your favorite part of Christmas? A: Eggnog! Q: Do you make it yourself? A: I buy it at the store—apologies to the purists out there. Q: Brandy, rum, or whiskey? A: Neither, nor, nor. I find that alcohol impairs the nogginess of the flavor. Though I’m not opposed to an eggnog martini, as history has shown.
On three kinds of choruses… Q: As you were recording this song— A: And thanks for not lifting a finger to help— Q: I noticed you included three different kinds of choruses. A: I didn’t know you could count that high. Q: Can you elaborate? A: I thought your feeble intellect would prevent you— Q: About the kinds of choruses! A: Well, the first is a spoken chorus that introduces the song and provides a running commentary. Q: How about the second kind? A: That’s a regular old pop chorus that repeats the song’s main message. Q: You mean, something like, “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah”? A: Yes, but not that erudite. Q: And the third kind? A: It’s a choir-type chorus that offers an angelic counterpoint to my own terrible sound. Q: Tell me more about the spoken chorus, which is something you don’t really see outside Greek or Elizabethan drama—perhaps with good reason. A: It took me a while to figure out what the spoken chorus was doing. The song itself covers the marriage proposal, which takes place this Christmas. The spoken chorus spans from this Christmas to next Christmas, narrating from the engagement through the wedding ceremony. Q: That’s almost interesting. A: The spoken chorus is written in iambic tetrameter, if you must know—my God, you’re persistent!
On the Bard… Q: Where’s the Shakespeare? A: Here, there, and everywhere. Q: As usual. A: The whole idea of waiting exactly a year to get married was lifted from Love’s Labour’s Lost. There are two direct quotes from that play in the song. Q: Is it the line about snogging under the mistletoe? A: Do you even know what “snogging” means? Q: Hey, I ask the questions around here. A: To me, the song’s spoken chorus is reminiscent, in purpose and tone, of the prologue in the play-within-the-play in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Q: Congratulations. Maybe one person in the world knows what the heck you’re talking about. A: Then at least I’ve reached another person. Q: I was talking about you. A: I picked up the word “glistering” from The Merchant of Venice. Q: Sure, just keep going. A: There’s the famous line, “All that glisters is not gold.” I love how “glister” seems to be a combination of “glitter” and “glisten.” Q: I applaud your use archaic language that hasn’t been heard since the late sixteenth century and, even then, was outdated. A: I’ll take your sarcasm as a compliment. Q: It’s the closest you’re going to get.
On other influences… Q: Did you steal from anyone besides Shakespeare? A: I once saw the comedian Gallagher smash a watermelon with a sledgehammer as part of his act. Q: And that somehow inspired this song? A: Not at all. What a strange question. But Christmas was a big influence. And music. Q: Christmas and music. Can you be more specific? A: Johnny Mathis is one of my favorite Christmas crooners. For the very last line of the song, I asked myself, “How would Johnny Mathis sing this?” I tried to channel his style. Q: Were you successful? A: I have no idea, but my dad once did Johnny Mathis’s taxes! That’s almost a tongue twister: “Mathis’s taxes.” Q: Your father was an accountant? A: No, a plumber.
“The Christmas After This” contains two sound effects, from Zapsplat.com.
The Christmas After This
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Title: “The Christmas After This”
Number: 13
Length: 3:53
Vibe/inspiration: Christmas, “The First Noël,” “Deck the Halls,” Johnny Mathis, Greek and Elizabethan choruses, Love’s Labour’s Lost and other Shakespeare
Key: F major
What I imagine Santa might say:
“This song is the musical equivalent of a lump of coal.”
“Frankly, I would have preferred an unspoken chorus.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t even get a mention.”
“Believe me, I’ve heard all the songs about Christmas, and let me tell you, this is one of them.”
“I’m a sucker for sleigh bells.”
Lyrics:
All hark ye, park thee round the tree To mark this merry comedy
Since we met I’m in your debt Now lend me your ear
Take my word Let it be heard How I need you here
Next Christmas We’ll reminisce this As both Our troth Do swear
The Christmas after this one The Christmas after this, hon The Christmas after this
A halo round a moonless stone A glistering to gild your own
Take this ring We’ll do our thing For just one more year
Take a chance On our romance Forge a new frontier
Next Christmas We’ll reminisce this As both Our troth Do swear
The Christmas after this one The Christmas after this, hon The Christmas after this
An old guitar, romantic jargon To seal a world-without-end bargain
[Hummed verse]
Take this song And dream along With your balladeer
[Instrumental pre-chorus and chorus]
A dress of wool, a suit of lace (“That’s backwards!”) An oath beside the fireplace (“Egad, that’s hot!”) Some nog for toasting, “Cheerio!” A snog beneath the mistletoe
Take my hand And it is planned Yea, our day is near
Take my heart We’ll never part Nay, nor never fear
Next Christmas We’ll reminisce this As both (as both) Our troth (our troth) Do swear
I will be thine Take all that’s mine
The Christmas after this one The Christmas after this, hon The Christmas after this
The Christmas after this kiss The Christmas after this bliss The Christmas after this
My uncle Stanley turns eighty-six tomorrow. He’d be the first to admit that. Stan is one of those people whose birthday often falls on or very close to a major holiday. In his case, he must compete for attention with a basted, golden-brown bird. (Indeed, I found numerous greeting cards, like the one shown in this post, celebrating the coincidence of a person’s birthday with Turkey Day—not to be confused with Turkish Republic Day, which involves more fireworks and presumably less pumpkin pie.)
Today, at a small family get-together for Thanksgiving, I read a poem I wrote in my uncle’s honor. Stanley is fully capable of reading on his own, but my sister suggested that an oral presentation of the verses might be festive. I tend to shy away from having all eyes on me, but among friends and fam, I can be a bit of a ham—or turkey, as the case may be. When my sis and I were kids, we would put on “little shows,” with singing, dancing, and skits—about which I feign embarrassment to this day.
Below you will find an audio recording of my truly underwhelming recitation of the poem at today’s gathering and, below that, the text of the same.
Stan the Man
Stan the Man
I’d like to write a poem About my mother’s brother; To love him is to know him— There really is no other.
But few words rhyme with “uncle”; “Carbuncle” is the cutest. Does Stan like Art Garfunkel? He might prefer a flutist.
No, no, that just won’t do; I have a better plan. Yes, I will take my cue From words that rhyme with “Stan”!
For one thing, Stan’s a man; This cannot be disputed. In Valley San Fernan— Has he been firmly rooted.
Stan looks at life quite gaily, This son of Chuck and Ann; His boy plays ukulele, His girl Duran Duran.
What’s Stan without his Linda? She’s Jane to his Tarzan. Their bond no one can hinder; She bakes him bars pecan.
Stan likes to tell a joke; He tells it very deadpan. He’s such a witty bloke— And drier than a bedpan.
On weekly family Zooms, Stan educates the clan— All in our separate rooms, More smart than we began.
To list Stan’s qualities, A year’s too short a span; He aims always to please, And I’m his biggest fan.
I recorded my latest song (listen below!) last week, while recovering from Covid. Please enjoy the nasal, throaty, almost feverish quality of the vocals. A few days into being sick, as I lay in bed with one of the most impressive headaches I’ve ever had (and I’ve had quite a few), I thought, “Is this the day I die?” Clearly, it wasn’t.
“The Day We Never Met” is unusual, I think, in that it doesn’t have a chorus, and the title appears only in the very last line. For the recording, I utilized my latest (and greatest) stringed acquisition, a parlor-size acoustic/electric guitar from Zager. A gorgeous instrument of solid African mahogany, it’s designed to be easy to play; I haven’t noticed this feature yet, but I’ve heard practicing can be very good for that.
My mother is my most devoted fan, along with her cat, Asher. (You might argue that Asher has no choice but to listen, especially since his favorite spot is on my mother’s legs, but he could hide in the closet if he wanted to.) Mom likes to know what my songs are about, even if I don’t always know myself, so I will try to provide a little background here.
If you’re a longtime lurker of this page, and even managed to keep up during the two-and-a-half-year hiatus (kudos!), you will likely have noticed that I once trafficked in the published word, as a writer, editor, and proofreader. Yet even I am amazed at the sheer volume of words being produced today for public consumption. People look at their screens for hours on end, and they need something to read—in the form of e-books, news stories, magazine articles, social media posts, blogs, advertisements, and the like.
“The Day We Never Met” is about considering the source of what you read—and being a considered, and considerate, source yourself. More specifically, the song’s theme is to be careful when you talk about someone you don’t know. But a theme doesn’t make a song—or, for that matter, a poem or a play or an essay about the queen. So, I crafted a story around my chosen theme, set it to music, and ta-da!
The Day We Never Met
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Title: “The Day We Never Met”
Number: 11
Length: 2:37
Vibe/inspiration: Patsy Cline
Key: C major
What I imagine people might say:
“I wish I never met this song. Come on, it was too easy.”
“If this song had a chorus, my disappointment would only have been compounded.”
“Have I stumbled into the rhyming Olympics?”
“I’d worry this song might glamorize smoking, but you’d have to have an audience for that to be a problem.”
Lyrics:
Well, you’ve been writing about me About the man you claim to be Filling pages For the ages Is it fact or fantasy?
What makes you think you know so much? You’ve never even been in touch ’Stead of knocking You kept walking Now you’re saying such and such
[Instrumental verse]
You flew in on a private jet You lit another cigarette I was waiting ’Ticipating On the day we never—
You were late ’n’ Hesitating On the day we never—
You’re narrating Punctuating The story of the day—
I was waking Mind was aching On the day we never—
You were making Plans forsaken On the day we never—
Now you’re taking Bows for breaking The story of the day—
Monday night ’n’ Not a sighting On the day we never—
Tuesday quiet ’n’ Nail-biting On the day we never—
Wednesday light ’n’ You’re a-writing The story of the day—
A day I can’t forget I haven’t seen you yet We won’t sing a duet
“The Clues Are There” (listen below!) has the makings of a hot mess. My latest recording features two time signatures (3/4 and 4/4), four tempos (ranging from 87 to 135 beats per minute), and four keys (A major, G major, C major, and F major, in order of first appearance). As the song opens, a train whistle—a steamy A6 chord—screams in harmonica and flute. The click-clack of the accompanying locomotive sounds as if it has been lifted from a black-and-white movie (with good reason). Add piano, piccolo, guitar (strummed by yours truly), violin, cello, timpani, and cymbal. Cram it all into two-and-a-half minutes. You can decide if everything works together, but let’s be honest—the odds aren’t good.
Think of “The Clues Are There” as Mary Poppins meets Murder on the Orient Express. With simple lyrics about perceiving the world around us, it started out as a children’s song that a magical nanny might sing (à la “A Spoonful of Sugar”). The idea of “clues” reminded me of having seen a lively stage adaptation of Agatha Christie’s celebrated whodunnit set aboard a luxurious train en route from Istanbul to Calais. Doesn’t life seem like a mystery sometimes, full of intrigue and suspense? You need to be Hercule Poirot just to figure out what’s going on.
The Clues Are There
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Title: “The Clues Are There”
Number: 10
Length: 2:31
Vibe/inspiration: Mary Poppins, Murder on the Orient Express
Keys (in order of first appearance): A major, G major, C major, F major
Random perceptions:
“The best way to perceive this song is not with the ears.”
“I’m looking through this song to the pure idiocy within.”
“To quote Hamlet, ‘There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.’ Guess what I’m thinking.”
“Sometimes, two plus two equals five. Or in this case, twenty-seven.”
“I tried to feel this song with my heart. I got heartburn.”
Lyrics:
I have two eyes So, I can see A photograph that’s not of me
I have two ears So, I can hear A difference that’s very clear
The clues are there If you care And I do And I do
The clues are there If you dare And I do And I do
I have a brain I can construe The summing up of two and two
I have a will I can pursue The sussing out of who is who
The clues are there In the air Give me more Give me more
The clues are there Everywhere Give me more Give me more
[Instrumental interlude]
I have a mind And I can muse ’Bout life in someone else’s shoes
I have a heart And I can feel If something is or isn’t real
The clues are there If you care And I do Yes, I do
The clues are there If you dare And I do Yes, I do
The clues are there In the air Give me more More and more
The clues are there Everywhere Give me more More and more
“The Factory” (listen below!) is a strange song. There, I said it, so you don’t have to. Perhaps its strangeness comes from the fact that it was inspired, in equal parts, by (1) an abandoned brick factory, (2) the song “Sixteen Tons,” (3) the Romantic poet Lord Byron, and (4) the musical Hadestown.
Why an abandoned brick factory?
Ruins are hauntingly cool.
Last November, I saw a photo of an old brick factory located in the Hudson River Valley of New York. At the end of the 19th century, this region was the largest brick manufacturer in the world. In the photo, the factory’s front wall (made of brick, naturally) was overgrown by trees, plants, and vines. It had no idea it was about to become a metaphor in a strange song.
Why the song “Sixteen Tons”?
It’s gritty and refers to arduous manual labor.
When I thought about the back-breaking business of brickmaking, Merle Travis’s 1947 folk classic about a coal miner came to mind. I was familiar with a modern cover of the song, which appears in the opening credits of one of my favorite movies, Joe Versus the Volcano. I wrote my song to the melody of “Sixteen Tons,” interjecting my own melody later.
Why the Romantic poet Lord Byron?
I was an English major.
In the song’s third verse, “Way back in eighty-eight” refers to 1788, the year in which Lord Byron was born—not to the ’88 in which padded-shoulder power suits were popular.
Why the musical Hadestown?
It depicts the underworld as a machine shop.
As the mood for “The Factory” developed, I thought, “Why does this feel familiar?” I realized my supremely unique creation was reminiscent of Hadestown, the Tony-winning musical that retells two Greek myths related to the underworld. The orchestra in the Broadway production I saw several years ago had included seven musicians, playing piano, violin, cello, guitar, trombone, glockenspiel, double bass, and percussion. So, that’s exactly the instrumentation you will find in “The Factory”—with the addition of regular old bass guitar.
What? No Shakespeare?
“The Factory” contains references to The Merchant of Venice, Much Ado about Nothing, and Julius Caesar.
What? No sound effects?
“The Factory” contains four sound effects, from Zapsplat.com.
The Factory
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Title: “The Factory”
Number: 7
Length: 3:35
Vibe/inspiration: An abandoned brick factory, “Sixteen Tons,” Lord Byron, Hadestown
Key: A minor
What I imagine a brick might say:
“I can guarantee you not one brick was consulted in the making of this song.”
“The ‘bricky’ sound effects in the bridge are just insulting.”
“I resent the use of bricks as a metaphor. Much prefer a nice brick fireplace. Or even mailbox stand.”
“‘Pile of bricks’? Pile of s#*t.”
Lyrics:
The way you double-cross me got me tied up in knots Your mama was a leopard, get a look at those spots You never did a thing—but to bring me pain Your mercy don’t come like a summer rain
There’s a pile of bricks (oh) this side of your heart Pump them out just to keep us apart Ain’t glad to report from what I can see It’s business as usual at the factory
You squeezed my little fingers as you planted your horns The perfume of a rose though you were only the thorns You judge me guilty of—keeping love from you And, oh, did your maker forsake you, too?
There’s a pile of bricks (oh) this side of your heart Pump them out just to keep us apart Ain’t glad to report from what I can see It’s business as usual at the factory
It’s like talking to a wall Will it take a ton of bricks to fall? Are you hearing me at all?
Way back in eighty-eight the Fates made merry your birth A wanderlust would carry you all over God’s earth Before you wore a beard you got yourself some fame But mine’s the rhyme that got you to a household name A Hero and a Brutus—got to look the same Cuz, Lord, I’m Judas in your book of blame
There’s a pile of bricks (oh) this side of your heart Pump them out just to keep us apart Ain’t glad to report from what I can see It’s business as usual—
There’s a pile of dust (oh) that used to be bricks Wonder how you’re gonna get your kicks I’m sad to report from where I can see Ain’t nothing no more of your factory
I don’t have a new song to share (just a snippet), but I thought I would report on some compositions that have a chance of being recorded on my living room couch sometime soon.
I get ideas for songs all the time. Most of them offer a moment of amusement as they float in and out of my mind. The ones that stick get a working title and a file on my computer. A few of these continue to claim my attention as I go about trying to be a productive citizen. Typically, there’s an initial burst of inspiration, resulting in some rough lyrics—followed by the hard work (and pure joy) of fleshing out the “story,” hammering out the meter and rhyme scheme, and puzzling out the words. Sometimes, a tune that naturally undergirded the lyrics as they formed becomes the final melody. Otherwise, I listen. And wait.
Here are some song ideas that have stuck, in various stages of being realized. (All titles are working titles.)
“The Factory”
Current form: Partial recording
Inspirations: An abandoned brick factory in the Hudson River Valley, the song “Sixteen Tons,” the Romantic poet Lord Byron, the musical Hadestown
Sample lyric: Your mama was a leopard, get a look at those spots
Musings: Intrigued by a photo of the ruins of an old brick factory, I began writing the lyrics for “The Factory” in New Orleans last November—to the melody of “Sixteen Tons.” Merle Travis’s 1947 folk classic about a coal miner evoked a vibe that felt apropos for a song about a brick factory. My lyrics were largely intact within three weeks. Then came the excruciating task of extracting the iconic “Sixteen Tons” melody and replacing it with my far, far, far lesser one. I am in the midst of recording “The Factory,” but you can listen to the preliminary bridge here.
Preliminary Bridge for “The Factory”
“Ma Belle”
Current form: Preliminary lyrics
Inspirations: The sights and sounds of Paris
Sample lyric: When you were learning how to spell Did you ride this carousel?
Musings: I penned the lyrics for “Ma Belle” (French for “my beautiful”) about six weeks ago, in Paris and on the flight home. So far, every line either repeats or rhymes with belle. The song contains a complete sentence in French, and I don’t speak French at all, so I’m preparing myself for total humiliation. (I might have done better with a song inspired by Madrid. Or London.) “Ma Belle” is presently sans mélodie.
“The Christmas After This”
Current form: Partial lyrics
Inspirations: Christmas, the play Love’s Labour’s Lost
Sample lyric: Next Christmas We’ll reminisce this
Musings: About two weeks ago, I started writing a Christmas song! I have hardly kept my fondness for Christmas music a secret from this blog. (See Christmix Tape and Please Have Snow and Mistletoe.) I am thrilled by the idea of contributing to this timeless canon, even if only a few people will ever hear “The Christmas After This”—which is based on a monologue from one of Shakespeare’s early comedies. The best part is that I have almost half a year to finish it!
“Isaiah’s Bucket List“
Current form: A few notes jotted down
Inspiration: An Uber driver in Dallas
Musings: Isaiah gave me a ride from a hotel in downtown Dallas to DFW. He told me that before retiring, he had driven a bus for thirty years—winning a trip to Jamaica as bus driver of the year (twice). Isaiah wants to visit three places before his time on earth is up: Alaska (because he’s amazed that people can live where it’s so cold), New York City (because you can get a pizza there at three in the morning), and Hawaii (because the air smells like flowers). Isaiah has a wife and two grown children. He thinks the big houses on the highway are too close together. His voice is like molasses.
Finally, a few songs that are just working titles at this point:
I wrote my latest song (listen below!) while vacationing in France last month. I worked out the lyrics for the chorus during a drive through the French countryside, between Champagne and Paris; the melody for the chorus came to me that evening, while wandering the Musée d’Orsay. (I realize the construction of that sentence makes it sound like the melody was wandering the Musée d’Orsay. “Funny running into you! I was looking for a melody.” Actually, that’s pretty much how it happened.)
The verses for “Do You Know Me? (Getting By)” came together the following day, after a visit to the Picasso Museum. (To be clear, it was I, not the verses, who visited the Picasso Museum and later had a cucumber martini.) Below, you can read the famed artist’s imagined comments regarding the song he partially inspired. Spoiler alert: they’re scathing!
What should I tell you about this song? I would like to think the opening idea, of being unfamiliar with one’s own face, was entirely original. But I believe it was informed, at least subconsciously, by the lyrics of three of my favorite musicians, in songs I have listened to many dozens of times:
Freedy Johnston, “Radio for Heartache” He was so alone He wouldn’t have recognized his face
Neil Finn, “Try Whistling This” If I can’t be with you, I would rather have a different face
Elvis Costello, “Stranger in the House” There’s a stranger in the house Nobody’s seen his face But everybody says he’s taken my place There’s a stranger in the house No one will ever see But everybody says he looks like me
Perhaps these lines have stuck with me because they are so startlingly surreal, like Picasso’s surrealist portraits. The face is so intimately connected to identity that if you were not to recognize your own, or to feel detached or dissociated from it, that could be cause for an existential crisis, indeed! In a dream, have you ever looked in a mirror and seen someone else looking back? For me, that discovery is typically accompanied by a scream. Or imagine the unease of sitting for Picasso, only to discover, upon viewing the finished work, that your eyes are arranged diagonally, your nose is in your hair, and your lips are blue!
You would probably not be surprised to learn that the second line of the song’s third verse (“The salad days weren’t meant to last”) contains a reference to Shakespeare. In Act I, Scene 5, of Antony and Cleopatra, the Egyptian queen refers to her “salad days,” when she was “green in judgment.” The phrase has come to mean a time of youthful inexperience, or the peak or heyday of something.
CREDITS: The featured image for this post is Pablo Picasso, Portrait of Marie-Thérèse Walter (1937, polka dots mine), photo taken by me at the Picasso Museum in Paris. Neil Finn wrote “Try Whistling This” with Australian musician Jim Moginie. “Do You Know Me? (Getting By)” contains two sound effects, from Zapsplat.com.
Do You Know Me? (Getting By)
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Title: “Do You Know Me? (Getting By)”
Number: 9
Length: 2:24
Vibe/inspiration: Freedy Johnston, Neil Finn, Elvis Costello, Pablo Picasso
Key: G major
What I imagine Picasso might have said:
“Surreal is a polite word for these lyrics.”
“This is not pop art. See what I did there?”
“I apologize for being a muse on this one.”
“This song has sent me right back to my Blue Period.”
Lyrics:
Woke up—I didn’t know my face I left it in another place I disappeared without a trace But I’ve been getting by
Went out—I didn’t know my name I couldn’t play or sing the same I’ll never climb the heights of fame But I’ve been getting by (bye, bye)
Do you know me? (Do you know me?) Do you recognize a thing? Do my words have a familiar ring? (oh-oh) Do you know?
Got back—I didn’t know my past The salad days weren’t meant to last And yet the end came on so fast But I’m still getting by (bye, bye) (bye, bye)
Do you know me? (Do you know me?) Do you recognize a thing? Do my words have a familiar ring? (oh-oh)
Do you know me? (Do you know me?) Do you recognize a thing? Do these words have a familiar ring? (oh-oh) (oh-oh) Do you know?
Woke up—I didn’t know my face I left it in another place I kept it in a crystal vase But I’ve been getting by (bye, bye) (bye, bye) (bye, bye)
My creative outlet used to be cupcakes, and the crazier the better—especially considering that I was not, nor have I since become, a baker. I simply imagined the cupcakes I wanted to create and made them happen, despite my embryonic skills—the half-baked embodiment of “where there’s a will, there’s a way.” I went so far as to print business cards and establish an online presence, under the humble moniker Cupcake Queen. I had a few paid gigs, but mostly, I just wanted to make people happy. As my long-abandoned Twitter page has reminded me, I loved baking cupcakes for “anyone who would make yummy sounds while eating them.”
See my step-by-step instructions for “caramel apple” cupcakes.
I know what you’re thinking: “baker,” “songwriter”—we have quite a Renaissance woman on our hands here! It probably shouldn’t come as a surprise that when I took a songwriting class a year ago, I went all “cupcake” on the first assignment. Here’s the lofty plan I shared with my peers:
I would like to write the blackbird’s response to the Beatles’ “Blackbird”—basically, a “translation” of what the bird is singing (in the dead of night). My goal is for the song to stand on its own but also to complement the original, so that the two songs can be played simultaneously. My “vibe,” therefore, is acoustic guitar with fingerpicking. I realize this will be quite a challenge for a newbie songwriter and guitar player.
I took it a step further: the last word (or syllable) of each line in “Blackbird” would become the first word of the corresponding line in the new song, and the two words would probably be sung together. I pictured two people on a stage, one performing “Blackbird” and the other performing the blackbird’s response. The only factor remotely in my favor was that “Blackbird” was one of the only songs I could play on the guitar (and still is).
I know what you’re thinking now: “There’s no way she pulled it off.” And you’re right, but not entirely. I did write “The Blackbird’s Response,” with the scheme I proposed. I came up with a melody and recorded the composition. Due only partly to a jaunty harpsichord interlude (listen below!), the finished product did not melodically complement the original; that aspect of my plan was beyond my ability, especially within the few days allotted for the assignment. I have not attempted it since. I invite anyone interested to write a melody for “The Blackbird’s Response,” such that the song can be performed simultaneously with “Blackbird” but also stand on its own. I would love to hear it!
The lyrics for “The Blackbird’s Response” are below, with an interpolation of the two sets of lyrics below that. Below that is the jaunty harpsichord interlude from the original recording of “The Blackbird’s Response,” just for fun.
The Blackbird’s Response
Night, hold close, my bosom friend! Fly? If but these wings could mend Life—a time too long to spend Rise? And wither wend?
Night, you bring me gentle word See you hope for such a bird? Life—the saddest ballad heard Free what you have stirred
Fly across a starry sky Fly and watch the world on high
Fly across a starry sky Fly and watch the world go by
Night, I need no more thy cloak Fly I must, from neath this yoke Life began when I awoke Rise, for morning broke Rise, for morning broke
“The Blackbird’s Response” Interpolated with “Blackbird”
Novel-Gazing 