Category Archives: Guitar

Fact or Fantasy

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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

About the story of the day—
The day we never met

Still Pretty as a Flower

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You might wonder how I went from talking about writing a novel to actually writing and recording songs. I suppose it all began on November 12, 2019, when I paid $20 for a classical guitar in a marketplace in Mexico City. I felt very cool bringing my guitarrita home on the plane, slung over my shoulder in its soft case. I later determined the instrument was more diminutive than a half-size version of a standard guitar—essentially making it a toy.

I had purchased a small-body, steel-string acoustic a year earlier, taken three or four lessons, and quit. My hands were just too tiny. Or my pinkies too petite. Or my arms too long. But the nylon strings of my souvenir from south of the border were forgiving. The scale length was short. The frets were narrower, increasing my reach. I was on my way.

Cut to two months ago, when I enrolled in an online class for writing and producing songs: three of them, in thirty days. Today I am sharing my second submission, which was the second song I had ever written and the second I had ever produced. “Your Sister Rose and You” is a retro-sounding ditty about reincarnation, with a chorus referencing Shakespeare. (I know, so cliché.) The “reviews” below came from my peers in the class.

Your Sister Rose and You

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Title:
“Your Sister Rose and You”

Number:
2

Length:
3:24

Vibe/inspiration:
The Monkees

Key:
B-flat major

What people are saying:

  • “I really like the way you’ve made such an interesting recording. Has kind of vaudeville roots to it.”
  • “Dig it! Brass always gets me.”
  • “So clever! Well done. It’s really a pleasure to listen to this.”
  • “Your lyrics are great. I can see why you’re a writer! I love the vocal treatment. Very interesting. Fun to hear. And original as a whole approach.”
  • “Very cool vibe. Reminds me of songs from the end of the 20th century—that’s a compliment, as I love that genre!”

Lyrics:

I ran into your sister Rose
Still pretty as a flower
I’m well, and you? and so it goes
We spoke for half an hour

I told her I was wondering
If she remembered anything
Ah-ah-ah

She locked you in her memory
(Feeding penguins at the zoo)
And you yourself would keep the key
(Pointing at a caribou)
It’s such a lovely place to be
Your sister Rose and you, ooh, too

I mentioned you were up the coast
And not too hard to find
She looked as if she’d seen a ghost
She almost lost her mind

I told her I was wondering
If she remembered anything
Ah-ah-ah

She locked you in her memory
(Flying kites into the blue)
And you yourself would keep the key
(Playing Battleship and Clue)
It’s such a lovely place to be
Your sister Rose and you, ooh, too

We never lose the ones we love, and here’s the reason why:
They keep on coming round until there is no more goodbye

[Instrumental interlude]

He’s changed a lot since he’s been dead—
You’d take him for another
I’d know him in my heart, she said
I love him—he’s my brother

I told her I was wondering
If she remembered anything
Ah-ah-ah

She locked you in her memory
(On a train to Waterloo)
And you yourself would keep the key
(To the north of Katmandu)
It’s such a lovely place to be
Your sister Rose and you, ooh

Your sister Rose and you, ooh, too