lyrics “not again.” max sits on the couch, a news bulletin has interrupted his basketball game. his roommate looks up from facebook. “what is it?” “another guy killing defenseless people.”
lyrics james lives on fenton street down the block from the empty lot that once held the 7-11. a firehouse is going up slowly. he’s a teenager, but you’d only know it from the library books in his backpack: salinger, the autobiography of malcolm x, arthur c clarke. his looks would place him in elementary […]
lyrics number 29, the penultimate installment of “connect the dots.” mr. sullivan swims back to the day he lost his son. thanksgiving 1985. his dream weaves this discovery into his life-long distance, his remorse, and the note that spelled out his son’s despair.
lyrics with monday song number 24, I have released as many songs in the past five and a half months, as I officially released in a decade of billie burke estate. the power of deadlines. and simplified production values. and ten years’ practice… i was planning to head to the ’60s for our next chapter, […]
lyrics number 19. not much to say about the number. but the song is a sad one. last week my mother asked why the last set of songs were so sad. i hadn’t noticed. they are monday songs after all. but I listened and thought, there isn’t the little pithy number to break up the […]
lyrics fifteen songs. four plus months. and I’m just getting warmed up… this week’s song was a case of automatic writing as far as the music goes. i played the opening churchbell pentatonic run on the piano and was struck by the first melodic phrase.
lyrics number ten has a bit of a country twang. i really like songs where there is a simple story, with a more complicated reality lurking underneath. if you take the words at face value, this tune, like “winston please” before it, is a simple heartfelt love song. but after a bit of listening and […]
lyrics 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 […]
lyrics the first installment of monday songs. the descending/ascending piano line came first. it suggested to me a kind of hopeful melancholy.