this is the start of a three song death scene. clarity is coming for mr. sullivan, and so is the end of this song cycle. the first step is acceptance. at that point he will be opened up to his core. and then the curtains will fall.
finally introduced by name at the end of the last song, mr. sullivan sinks toward his end, his son approaches, asking him to stay. this song is in the voice of the son, who has had more time to adjust to these strange surroundings. read more >
the second monday song.
when i was in junior high there was a girl named nadine in my wood shop class. at some point, the boys started taunting her: “nadine, nadine, the header machine.” i never discovered the background, but, though she disappeared before high school, she was forever etched into my brain. years later, she’d occasionally come to mind, and I’d wonder what happened to her. read more >
the first installment of monday songs.
the descending/ascending piano line came first. it suggested to me a kind of hopeful melancholy. the piano part and melody came very quickly, the result of fiddling with different accompaniment styles, in this case the piano playing the guitar, something i want to do more of.
the first lyric hook was “why does it alway have to be…” but i had no idea what that meant, only that someone was saying it to the person singing the song. then i got “a broken heart a valentine” and from there it was just wrestling with meaning, tying the two parts together, and uncovering the rest of the story.
the squeal of kids was an accident: cormac and maude running through the house with friends when i was recording a vocal. at first i thought a decent take was ruined, upon hearing it in context, it had the sense of faraway delight, a happy sound, but lonely in its distance. a memory perhaps, or a dream.
hat tip to elliott smith who haunts this one, and to the white album beatles, as is often the case these days.