LYRICS
One of the ways I've been attacking writer's block has been to play around with song lyrics. I'm not a musician at all and can't play a single instrument, but I've always been very aware of the musicality of language. When I write – whatever I am writing – I pay careful attention to the sound of the words, how they flow and run into one another, even sometimes circling back. I started working on poetry and quickly found myself imagining the poems as songs. I've been using SUNO to build out music and voices.
The town with two names
I wrote these lyrics about childhood memories of my family's time in Derry in the 1960s, just before the Troubles. They were happy times in the shadow of wild injustices.
America bound
[A different music style for the song, Children of the Jet Age] In 1968, our family moved from Montreal, Canada, to Everett, Washington, after my father was hired by Boeing as part of the 747 development team. We arrived in Everett, an old paper mill town north of Seattle, along with thousands of other workers and their families from around the world.
how we lived
One of my favorite Bruce Springsteen songs is Girls in Their Summer Clothes. It's just a perfect ode to those carefree summer days of our youth, overlaid with a melancholic awareness that those golden days wouldn't, couldn't, last. I tried to capture similar feelings in this song.
buy the ticket, take the ride
I lost a dear friend last year, a partner in mischief and laughter for close to half a century. "Buy the ticket, take the ride," is a famous quote from Hunter S. Thompson, the writing hero of our youth. The music incorporates a sousaphone, which my friend played, appearing on albums by the Violent Femmes and the delightful mandolin player John Kruth.
lady liberty's tears
I remember the bicentennial. I was a teenager, regularly outfitted in red, white and blue clothing, even down to my Converse all-Stars. This year, American turned 250, a nation in turmoil. Can we make it last?
in her garden
A tribute to my mother, and the beautiful garden paradise she and her brother created in her backyard in Derry.
children of the jet age
In 1968, our family moved from Montreal, Canada, to Everett, Washington, after my father was hired by Boeing as part of the 747 development team. We arrived in Everett, an old paper mill town north of Seattle, along with thousands of other workers and their families from around the world.
Waiting
Several years ago, as our world was deep in the grasp of COVID, I sat on our deck and watched the birds at the feeders in our backyard. I found great solace in nature during the pandemic. The unceasing rhythm of the natural world lent great comfort.
a cardboard box in the basement
Nicki and I joke a lot about aging. The challenges one encounters, the aches and pains, the body's rebellion, even the cloak of invisibility one is awarded at 60. But there also needs to be an acknowledgment of the journey we have been on, and that we are still traveling.
magic and mystery
A light tribute to the Magical Mystery Tour.
i'll wear heels to the courthouse
Never underestimate a woman.