Sunshine

I've been going through an interesting phase lately. I've been playing my 12-string guitar almost exclusively, and running it through a practice amp with a good deal of distortion, looking, searching for a new sound. While the results weren't exactly what I was looking for, I have to admit I've been somewhat pleased with the eclectic sounds coming out of the small amp.

The first song that came out was an older song, possibly written during my sophomore or junior year of college, that had long sat dormant, unused on a hard drive full of lyrics without melodies. This new sound that I had been searching for allowed me to finally put a sound to lyrics that had long been lonely. I've always thought that a song unsung was a shame, so I was quite relieved to finally have a method by which to convey this song. To be quite honest it's not my favorite song, but the cathartic experience of attempting to suit it to a melody was pleasure enough to satiate my creative longings for a few more days at least.

Sunshine

I’ve been watching the wind blow
Straight down towards mexico
And I can’t sleep, I can’t sleep

You’re taking so long
But love is a process, it’s a process

Fear don’t sleep here no more
Like the soul of a whore it just up and disappeared
It just disappeared 

Days die on the calendar
Snow falls, blooming flowers and the sun in the sky
Just keep that sun in the sky

Sleeping pills and drunk dials
White skin red blood, and I got the blues again
I got the blues again

Sleepin in till the sun’s up high
Droppin bombs and dropping stocks, the world’s crashin 
Comin up for air, I’m comin up for air

Clocks hands stretch out begging for time
Late night great night and I’m feelin alright
I’m feelin alright

Days die on the calendar
Dead leaves, hurricanes and you’re my sunshine
You’re my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

Ben Gibbard

i was quite pleased to see today that i am not the only one who dances/shakes like a sugar-high child while preforming live.

me, circa 2006

ben gibbard, circa 2006

love is real

"A vision of her body as she stretches out on your bed
and she raised her hands in the air, asked you
when was the last time you looked in a mirror?
because you've changed"

-Bright Eyes ~ Sunrise, Sunset-

I have recently been listening to a lot of sad songs while recording demos for my album, and while playing them in the morning or late night, they continue to come out as happy songs... same lyrics, same music, just with a different inflection. It's been weird, watching songs such as Death Cab's "I Will Follow You Into The Dark" or Regina Spektor's "Back Of A Truck" put smiles onto people's faces.With that in mind I decided to take a little different approach to this phenomenon.

I was searching through my music, and came across a song that I had written that was in desperate need of another verse, a little ditty that had been lying around for some months tentatively titled “Fly Away”. It was inspired by the classic tale of unrequited love, something universal enough, it seems. The problem with the song was that it seemed somewhat unresolved, as any tale of unrequited anything would, naturally. While listening to an older Bright Eyes album with my good buddy Kurt one drunken night we came to an old favorite of ours entitled “Kathy with a K’s song” and came to the conclusion that it was, in fact, a happy song, though thickly masked in a sentimental and somewhat dark overtone. 

With this song in mind, I decided to creatively borrow, of “sample”, if I can get away with that terminology, the first verse of his song to use as the second verse of my song. I wanted it to be clear, and I think that the closest of my friends would immediately assume, that this was an effort to improve on my unfinished song, and not an attempt to improve on his.

My favorite thing about this song, that mere text will certainly lose, is the upbeat blues progression it is set to, because I think it does a fairly accurate job portraying the intended emotion before a single word is spoken, or sung as the case may be. With the song finally completed, a quick replaying of it showed me that the entire tone of the song had changed, for the better in my opinion, and i felt that that was deserving of a name change to the song. While searching for a name, i decided to reuse a borrowed lyric, since the damage has already been done, and begin preforming it under the name "love is real". So, preface completed, here it is:

If I left you in the morning
What would you do
Would you get doe-eyed and look back at me?
Or would you stay
In your little bed all day
Hoping for some resolution?
Well baby don’t be sad
No, honey, don’t be shy
See I’m not going anywhere
I’ll stay by your side
Make you smile again
Oh honey you know I didn’t mean it

See there are just times in my life
When I get confused
And I’m so sorry
It came down on you
See I didn’t mean
To take nothing away
And I still hope
That you grow your wings
So baby oh no
No, no, no, no. no, no please
Don’t you fly
Too far away from me
Cause if you fly too far
Then I just won’t be free

Love is real
It is not 
Just in novels or the movies
It is fact
And it is standing here 
Right in front of you
So if you open your eyes
Oh what a sweet discovery
There is hope, and there is joy, and there is acceptance
So now let all of the light 
That collects on your plants
Keep you warm, make you smile
And I will be there 
With this pen in my hand
To record all the while
You'll be laughing so loud
That the house would shake with sound 
And everything will be as new as the day it was found

So take my word
Honey just believe me
Every little thing gonna be alright
If you take your time
Make up your mind
And settle for nothing that you don’t need
And I hope it’s true
What Johnny said
Oh darling love is all you need (all you need is love)
So I’ll open up shop
And turn on the lights
Sweep the floors for you till they sparkle and shine
Darling the effort
That you’ve been giving
It will not go to waste
And someday soon
You will see
You’ve made a profit off of me
But it’s a price I will pay
Time and again
Any time you need a helping hand
Baby you just say the word
And I will be there

México

During the spring of 2007, I took a trip to Texas and México to do some mission work building houses for immigrants. I wish that I had more to say about this experience, maybe it's the timing of the posting, or maybe it has more to do with the closeness of the song to my own sense of well being, but I think it's direct enough to stand on it's own.

I didn’t mind
A little heat
The sun down in México
It made you sweat
Too hot for your taste
So we came back to the States

You always win
It’s your way
But I don’t mind I bide my time

Coming back
Through customs
I was sure we’d get busted
Cuz you were still
A little drunk
Dirt cheap tequila
I held your hand
As they held your papers
You were so nervous
I made a joke
It wasn’t funny
So I got searched instead of you

You always win
It’s your way
But I don’t mind I bide my time

The interstate
The nation’s veins
Pumping songs and souls and cages North
Connecting dots
With frequent black spots
We were anonymous in the flow
I hoped we’d talk
You’d rather not
We didn’t speak a word of México
Just the light
From the stars
And our speechless conversations

You always win
It’s your way
I guess I mind more than I show
I miss your touch
I’m feeling lost
With my arm wrapped around your waist

Wipe My Hands Clean

But now it's easy, getting easier, to leave you and this town behind
I'll do some traveling
Once I'm gone tell all our friends you got even

-Conor Oberst ~ Spent On Rainy Days-

This is the rarest of my songs in one sense: it came out of nothing. While in college I'm sure there were Catholic girls who wanted nothing to do with me, I can think of several off the top of me head, and yes, there were several people who thought that my lifestyle would surely lead me to hell, but none of these people were directly responsible for the creation of this song. 

I think this song may stem from my own personal desire for acceptance, and the struggles that I, and presumably all but the most charming of people, go through to gain that acceptance of others. One of the most frustrating, and universal, experiences that individuals go through in their youth, and I expect adult life as well, is trying to get the acceptance of someone who simply refuses to grant it. This can be a physical attraction to someone who has a great personality difference with you, thus rendering a relationship impossible, or as simple as trying to befriend someone who refuses to accept your attempts.

While I did author this song, I've never been that good at self-analyzing, so I'll leave the majority of that task to the psychologists and, more importantly, the poets.

Sisters of mercy
Don’t pay me no more mind
I paid all my dues
And yes I paid them all on time
But catholic girls wipe their hands
Clean of me

So I’m sitting here alone again 
And drinking to you 
My heart is knotted up again
I’m tangled up in blue
I think of what we had
And I wipe my hands clean of me

Oh they’re liars, sinners, thieves, and cheats
They’re preaching from their pulpits oh they’re bullying me
They say I’ll go to hell
So I wipe my hands clean of me

And I pick up the paper in the morning
I read stories of bombings and killings and crying mothers
And all the signs say hurray for our side
I look up at the sky
And I wipe my hands clean again

So I welcome the warmth of a summer rain
Wash away my sins, make me whole again
But they keep telling me my hands are dirty
I guess I’m guilty by complacency

I see the water starting to rise
And the sun is getting hot
I’m like a child trapped in terror
But no mercy do I got
So I pack up all my love
And wipe my hands clean of me

Now there are actors on the stage
Growing pride from fields of lies
They say it’s just a game
But I see the heartache in their eyes
The crowd just walks away
And I wipe my hands clean of me

I’ve been takin you for granted
Like a sunrise on the beach
Too hungover to notice
That it’s my happiness you leach
So I slink away in shame
And I wipe my hands clean of me

You tried to teach me everything
The way the world clicks
But broken hearts and broken minds
Don’t take to tampering
The combination got erased
When I wiped my hands clean of me

So I welcome the warmth of a summer rain
Wash away my sins, make me whole again
But they keep telling me my hands are dirty
I guess I’m struggling with normalcy

Slut Shoes

If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph:
THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED
FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD
WAS MUSIC

-Kurt Vonnegut-

I have begun writing and recording a low-fi album. It is giving me a certain sense of joy, the joy found in creating. It's a very cathartic experience, giving me pratice at pratical songwriting, and giving my father an excuse to practice his life-long love of recording. It is possible that, someday, these songs and vignettes may make their way onto an actual studio album, but for now, I'm a man on a mission, and that mission is to get something, anything, down and into sound that will leave indisputable proof that I was, in fact, here.

This first song is one that started as a joke rather than a real song. It was born in the early stages of a failed attmept at romance (that is now slowly blossoming into a very nice friendship) and one of those lovely "get to know you" chats that last until 3 or 4 in the morning. On discussing what we find attrative in the opposite sex, it came up that both of us had a certain disdain for the look of a woman, or girl, more aptly, wearing high, fur lined boots, with a mini skirt. The look has never quite seemed right to me, but this particular lady had a higher than normal distaste for this look, and so as a way to try and pacify her, and get a laugh out of the occassional drunk bar crowd, I wrote this song, aptly titled "Slut Shoes"

She speaks just like a teacher
When she’s been drinkin too muchShe tries to teach me about the wind
And the stars up in her eyes
She told me that she loves me
But I know I’m not the only one
She told him the she loves him
He don’t know he’s not the only one

I took her word when she told me
That she knew the way to go
And in the darkest dark between the sheets
She still helped me find my way
But she’s blowing in the wind now
And the sun is going down
With her eyes blacked out and her lipstick on
She’s walkin out the door now
 She’s got her slut shoes on

Oh, and I can see that she don’t care
Bout what she does to me
Yes I can see she’s got her slut shoes on

She speaks about religion
She speaks in tongues that I don’t understand
I’m workin on my resume
She’s still workin on her tan
And I know I’m not the only one
But tonight she says I’m her favorite man
And I know I’m just the foolish one
But I’m fallin in again

I been take my days so slowly
Let the liquor warm inside my glass
There’s words I know I need to say
But the opportunities slide past
My shoes don’t fit right now
Feels like my feet are not my own
With her eyes blacked out and her lipstick on
She’s walkin out the door now
 She’s got her slut shoes on