music journal

here’s another old Chattanooga story that I’ve tried to put in song. I think I want to add more to it, but here it is so far:

Here’s a rough demo MP3

His name was Ed Bass
He needed that road done fast
There wasnt a way around
To the south side of the town

The old warehouse was in his way
Georgia said it had to stay
But Ed was the kind of man
To take things in his hands

(chorus)
So grab your axes and your shovels boys
Here’s what we’re gonna do
We’ll take that darned old building down
We’ll split it right in two

As the night began to fall
Ed’s bulldozer attacked the wall
Soon a band began to play
And South Broad was on its way

They worked all through the night
So Georgia couldnt put up a fight
Round midnight Ed drove through
That old warehouse torn in two

After this Ed stuck around
20 years he led this town
and he should always renowned
for taking Broad street all the way down
(to the town of St. Elmo)

here’s an article about Ed and this escapade

been thinkin a little about my place in this world lately, so here’s this:

Is This All?

I’ve been preaching to the choir
To folks just like me
Loving everyone who loves me
Cant find no enemies
 
We all have all the answers
Sometimes we have our doubts
We whisper in the back rooms
Forgetten how to shout
 
Dear God is this all you got for me?
Dear Jesus is there anything more?
Dear Spirit is this what you have for me?
Or should I look for something more?
 
Do I really want my children
To turn out like myself?
Got everything I could ask for
And keep it on the shelf.
 
Seems like everyone around me
They already know
God is this the place you want me
Where else can I go?

Dear God is this all you got for me?
Dear Jesus is there anything more?
Dear Spirit is this what you have for me?
Or should I look for something more?

as inspired by this article

The Final Score (tune idea: verses really fast paced, almost spoken (like Dylan’s “Subterranean…”)

will you turn off the TV
long enough to see
that this isnt a game?
we might be to blame.
count the cost of the war
(it’s not about the final score).
 
5 years, 4000 dead.
how many tears must be shed?
can you tell me how long
until we can admit we are wrong?
 
gone are 4000 lives
and thats just one side.
tell me what we got
besides the world pissed off?
did you know the parent’s sins
can come to visit on the kids?
 
(chorus)
 
sure we got our man
but didnt have a plan
for the rest of the time.
so tell me is it a crime
to base a war on a lie?
now how many curse the sky?

(chorus)

Here’s the another side of life with the sweetest kids ever. kind of a joke right now but it might be fun to work on:

Toddlerville

I want my daddy
I want my mama
I want my socks on
I want my socks off
 
I want everything that I cant get
And I need a LOT right now
Candy cookies dont forget
If not I’ll throw a fit on the ground
 
Dont wanna come in
Dont wanna go out
Dont wanna go potty
Dont wanna take naps
 
Dont you know it’s all about me
And my every little desire
So come on come play with me
I dont understand why you’re tired

I love you SO much!
We’re together!
Bible stories!
Let’s call grandma!
 
Feed me well and I’ll be nice
And dont forget the kisses and hugs
I know you love these sparkle eyes
You’ve got every little bit of my love

this one is inspired by the recent(?) phenomenon of churches moving into old grocery stores and such:

Supermarket

Is this a church, is this a store?
Can’t tell the difference anymore.
Used to come for milk and bread
Now they serve grape juice instead

Come on in, it’s on the self
Get you want, come help yourself
Come sit back, it’s what you know:
Big screen, dim lights, enjoy the show

(chorus)
What do you want? Why are you here?
To give yourself a little cheer?
If you came here for some help
You better look beyond yourself
 
Jesus cleared the house of prayer
Threw the salesmen out
We’re selling in the market’s place
Convinced that we’re devout

(chorus)

I’m inspired by the songs of Derek Webb who has a whole album of songs about and to the church, most of which is pretty hard-hitting.

this one is obviously a little more heavy-handed than other stuff I’ve done. I dont like the consumerism that’s creeping in the church, and in some cases it seems to dominate. I know it’s deeply ingrained in our culture and in myself. I dearly love the church and long to see it more and more lovely.

anyway, considering such things, I kinda get a kick out of the irony of moving a church into an old supermarket, even while I lament our consumer attitude.

here’s a very short lyric based on Romans 8:26.

I am weary
I am weak
Dont know what to pray
Or how to speak

Come Holy Spirit
Intercede
Without words
Groan for me

a couple random thoughts on this:

perhaps it could be in the genre of that I call the “campfire songs” (like “As the Deer” and such), or perhaps something like John Michael Talbot would do (I really like a bunch of his scripture songs and aspire to that kind of Bible-based songwriting). perhaps I can expand it by including 8:27 as well. 

I feel like a lot of the times I write stuff it’s too wordy. clearly this one isnt. I like that it’s pretty close to the actual Bible verse. hopefully I can write a little tune for it that is appropriate and yet “catchy” enough to stick in my head, because I often need to pray this. Michelle has recently learned about contemplative prayer and this seems to fit with a lot of what that’s about.

Here’s a lyric in progress that I started a while ago. it was inspired by a completely bizarre incident involving our former neighbors that we never really knew. I can’t say I like it much so far, but I didnt want to lose track of the idea. 

These walls are thin
but we can’t hear.
Drowning the noise
with the sound of our sleep.

Throw a stone
into another world.
Or just shake your head
and turn the other way.

Last night you don’t want to know what happened.
Last night just like so many before.
Last night I don’t really know what happened.
But this night I know she cant take much more.

I have a huge respect for Bob Dylan, although it’s mostly second-hand (respect for those who love him), since I havent listened to a whole lot of his stuff. but I’ve been into Buddy Miller lately and he did a great cover of With God On Our Side in his most recent album. in case you’re not familiar, that’s a classic war protest song. it’s actually a lot more than that, but anyway, I was really liking the song, especially since the war in Iraq is getting more and more depressing. not that I have any answers on that topic, but the whole thing makes me sad, to say the least. so I was inspired to write a new verse for Bob’s song. not surprisingly I’m not the only one to have this idea. here’s someone else’s crack at it (which I personally find lacking in various ways, but I gotta give credit for a good shot at it).

anyway, here’s my verse. if I ever have a chance to sing it somewhere, I’d probably leave out some of the early verses (it’s a long song) and stick this 3rd-to-last. as noted in this good article, the last 2 verses are what makes this song special. not that my writing is even close to being on par with Bob’s, but here’s my hack at it:

Now we’re stuck in the desert,
There’s sand in our eyes.
But no one found the weapons
That we’re supposed to find.
There’s no one to tell me
Why we let these bombs fly.
Now we’re starting to wonder
If God’s on our side.

As mentioned before I wrote the words for a song about our family vacation spot, but didnt get the tune down yet. I still havent figured out a tune, so I guess that makes this a poem for now. I just dug it back out so I could show my grandma, who is mentioned in the 3rd verse.

I think I like the words except for the last part, which I thought would be chorus at one point, but now I’m thinking a bridge kinda thing at the end, or just ditch it alltogether. as I get a little older I dont mind being a little cheesy, but I’m feeling like that’s a little too much. we’ll see if it works out in the end.

so here’s the words to “Bomoseen Memories” (subject to change, pending tune)

Dad taught me how to fish
Off the dock and under that tree,
The same place he learned himself,
The same place he’ll always be.
The old willow might be gone,
But Bomoseen still remains:
The fish, the flies, the flowing water
Running through his veins.

Four generations and counting,
We’ve come to this mountain lake,
Those before us worked so hard
To give us this fine place.
We drive a thousand miles
Just to sit beneath the trees,
And laugh and play and drink and swim
With all our family.

Now we watch our children
Laugh and play just the same,
They don’t yet know the stories
But our memories remain.
Gram will always be here,
Grandpa’s spirit will never die,
And now it’s up to us to teach our kids
The how and why.

The red of the cottage,
The blue of the water,
The green of the mountains,
The white and black of the trees:
These are the colors of my warmest memories.