Part Three: Somerville Songs
Post-college, after knocking around for a while, in the late 70’s I wound up living in Somerville, Massachusetts, with my brother Duncan and his girlfriend. Duncan was a semi-professional musician at this point, and had set up some basic recording equipment in one room of the apartment. There were two Teac ¼-track reel-to-reels, two pretty good mikes with stands, an early-60’s model Wurlitzer electric piano with an amp of some kind, a Farfisa Duo organ with a Leslie cabinet, a decrepit old upright piano which a neighbor had given to my brother (and on which some hippie piano-tuner had managed to tweak each note exactly half a step higher than it should be) - plus a beat-up set of bongos, some maracas and shakers of various kinds and a kalimba.
One of the first things he recorded was a ridiculous pop song called “Blue Kazoo” for which I’d written the lyrics and created a sort of musical outline. I gave the lyrics and outline to him - along with an actual blue kazoo - as a kind of joke, just to give him something to test out the equipment with. He set the words to music and here’s what he came up with, playing and singing all the parts, overdubbing back and forth between the two tape decks:
Blue Kazoo
All the people on the radio, they sing about love.
But you know, and I know that it’s only for show.
If I got paid as well as they do, then I wouldn’t care either, I guess -
peddling love like it was just Brand X.
But this song is playing just for you,
and I don’t have a band like the show folks do.
So I’ll have to try and get my message through
with only a blue kazoo. A poor old blue kazoo.
I’ve had this kazoo since I was ten.
Never thought I’d want to use it again.
But I found it in my closet, looking rusty and sad,
so I gave it a try. It didn’t sound too bad.
And now it’s playing just for you,
and I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do.
And it’ll sound like more, if you want it to,
then only a blue kazoo. My poor old blue kazoo.
Kazoo and I, well, we did our best.
And now you’re here - I guess we passed the test.
I’ve been waitin’ and hopin’ for such a long while,
wonderin’ if you’d like a song with so little style.
But I guess you did, and I sure do,
so one more time, for just us two.
Who needs a band when I’ve got you
and my good old blue kazoo? Oh, sweet, good old blue kazoo.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sometime later my brother and I decided to try to write something to enter in a contest being sponsored by Creem magazine, to which I was an avid subscriber. It was a rock ‘n’ roll songwriting contest, so choosing to do a ballad was probably not the best decision we ever made, but that’s what we did. You will be shocked to learn that we didn’t win.
“Esplanade” has kind of a weird history. During my one year at Emerson College in Boston (1969-70), one of my roommates composed a samba-ish piece on his guitar and asked me to try my hand and writing some lyrics to the melody. I came up with a very simple sketch of a guy wandering around, unable to face going home because his girlfriend has just left him. I think we called it “Esplanade” because of the nearby park by that name, on the Charles River, which is where we worked on the song sometimes. I pictured the protagonist of the song walking along the Charles as the sun went down, not wanting to return to his empty apartment.
I lost track of the composer after I left Emerson, but still had the lyrics, so I gave those to Duncan and he wrote and recorded a new piece of music to go with them, again playing and singing all the tracks:
Esplanade
The sun is sinking,
colors draining from the sky.
An evening breeze takes last years’ leaves
and lets them wave good-bye.
I sit here empty,
wondering what I should do.
But it’s all the same - life’s not the game
it used to be for two.
One of the first things he recorded was a ridiculous pop song called “Blue Kazoo” for which I’d written the lyrics and created a sort of musical outline. I gave the lyrics and outline to him - along with an actual blue kazoo - as a kind of joke, just to give him something to test out the equipment with. He set the words to music and here’s what he came up with, playing and singing all the parts, overdubbing back and forth between the two tape decks:
Blue Kazoo
All the people on the radio, they sing about love.
But you know, and I know that it’s only for show.
If I got paid as well as they do, then I wouldn’t care either, I guess -
peddling love like it was just Brand X.
But this song is playing just for you,
and I don’t have a band like the show folks do.
So I’ll have to try and get my message through
with only a blue kazoo. A poor old blue kazoo.
I’ve had this kazoo since I was ten.
Never thought I’d want to use it again.
But I found it in my closet, looking rusty and sad,
so I gave it a try. It didn’t sound too bad.
And now it’s playing just for you,
and I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do.
And it’ll sound like more, if you want it to,
then only a blue kazoo. My poor old blue kazoo.
Kazoo and I, well, we did our best.
And now you’re here - I guess we passed the test.
I’ve been waitin’ and hopin’ for such a long while,
wonderin’ if you’d like a song with so little style.
But I guess you did, and I sure do,
so one more time, for just us two.
Who needs a band when I’ve got you
and my good old blue kazoo? Oh, sweet, good old blue kazoo.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sometime later my brother and I decided to try to write something to enter in a contest being sponsored by Creem magazine, to which I was an avid subscriber. It was a rock ‘n’ roll songwriting contest, so choosing to do a ballad was probably not the best decision we ever made, but that’s what we did. You will be shocked to learn that we didn’t win.
“Esplanade” has kind of a weird history. During my one year at Emerson College in Boston (1969-70), one of my roommates composed a samba-ish piece on his guitar and asked me to try my hand and writing some lyrics to the melody. I came up with a very simple sketch of a guy wandering around, unable to face going home because his girlfriend has just left him. I think we called it “Esplanade” because of the nearby park by that name, on the Charles River, which is where we worked on the song sometimes. I pictured the protagonist of the song walking along the Charles as the sun went down, not wanting to return to his empty apartment.
I lost track of the composer after I left Emerson, but still had the lyrics, so I gave those to Duncan and he wrote and recorded a new piece of music to go with them, again playing and singing all the tracks:
Esplanade
The sun is sinking,
colors draining from the sky.
An evening breeze takes last years’ leaves
and lets them wave good-bye.
I sit here empty,
wondering what I should do.
But it’s all the same - life’s not the game
it used to be for two.
Tonight I’ll wander
wherever my feet want to go.
And try to hide myself from myself -
and memories not very old.
My bed is empty,
the covers lie where they were thrown.
And there they’ll stay. I can’t end today
when tomorrow means alone.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
During this period I was either working as a temp or completely unemployed, so out of boredom one day I decided to try my hand at writing and recording a song.
I had been exposed to the idea of tape loops - probably first by hearing Steve Reich’s “Come Out” on WBCN - and had used them occasionally in my radio production work at WMUA. So the first thing I did in creating this song was to make a loop out of a couple of bars of the tabla/tamboura/bell-shaker intro to “Lotus Feet” by the Mahavishnu Orchestra and lay down several minutes of that as a rhythm track. Once I had that I played it back while noodling around on the lower keys of the organ until I had a simple bass part that I liked, and recorded that over the percussion track.
Next was just scat-singing over the bass/percussion track until I came up with a melody, then started writing lyrics. I had been practicing Transcendental Meditation for many years and the words gradually evolved into what became “The Psychedelic Waltz (Meditation Song #1).”
After that it was pretty much hit-or-miss layering of vocals, keyboards, and small percussion, plus sound effects, tape loops and music samples swiped from records. The latter included Mother Mallard’s Portable Masterpiece Company - an early Philip Glass-influenced synthesizer group - near the beginning, and bits from Beaver and Krause - also synth pioneers - in the middle section. Oh, and another short tabla loop near the beginning, taken from a recording by a group called Oregon, and some processed percussion loops in the middle taken from albums by the Diga Rhythm Band and Gong.)
The only available reverb was tape-echo (Or slapback, as it’s sometimes called), so the vocals on all the Somerville songs are mostly dry except here and there.
The different sections of the song were recorded separately and then assembled - without splicing, by the way, just playing each section onto a blank tape in sequence, trying to start both machines simultaneously (by turning a big, clunky switch on each) without making a massive tape noise at the edit points. This took some practice, and even then wasn’t always achieved.
I learned a lot about bounce-style recording along the way, of course, the main lesson being that whatever gets recorded first tends to get buried in the mix. When I had all the different sections assembled I had to re-dub the entire bass part - in one continuous take, no easy task for a non-musician - because the original had become little more than muffled thumping after being bounced back and forth so many times. Since I had to do it anyway I came up with a slightly more sophisticated riff that went with the buried original one and finally managed to play it - along with the few changes here and there, and a different riff for the final verse) all the way through.
The song took weeks to create and record, and if I had known how complicated the process was going to become I probably never would have attempted it. But all in all, allowing for the crudeness of the recording set-up and my lack of technical ability, I really like the way this track turned out. Here it is:
The Psychedelic Waltz (Meditation Song #1)
The time has come to get back what you gave.
The time has come to get beneath the waves. Listen...
Close your eyes, close your eyes, close your eyes. Ahhh....
Here I am again, following the silent sound
down to where it all begins.
Oh, I feel like snow, falling so slow.
Life is but a dream, you know.
Life is but a dream, and it shows, it shows.
(Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream,
merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily - life is but a dream.)
This world I gladly leave, distant as the northern star,
far beyond what I believe.
On and on I go, falling so slow.
(Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream,
merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily - life is but a dream.)
This world I gladly leave, distant as the northern star,
far beyond what I believe.
On and on I go, falling so slow.
Life is but a dream, you know.
Life is but a dream - let it go.
(Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream...
It’s only a dream...)
Let it go!
Out there I’m not sure of that which I’m surest -
it’s all just a show they put on for the tourists.
But sliding down the rabbit hole
I’m putting new shoes on my soul.
And here I know that I’m alive
instead of watching life go by.
And I’m comin’ through - it must be true,
‘cause now you see me, now I do.
Call it my imagination, but...
I’m pickin’ up good vibrations.
(Good, good, good...)
How can I be this full of feeling such a loving grace
embrace this happy, holy fool?
Oh, I feel it glow...
This is the road home.
(Ommm... Ahhhhh...ommm)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like many people who came of age in the ‘60’s and early 70’s, the first stirrings of spirituality in my life arrived via the experience of psychedelics. In my case it was one particular experience in early December, 1970, involving psilocybin mushrooms and the newly-released album by George Harrison, All Things Must Pass.
As a result of this experience I resolved to stop doing drugs and learn Transcendental Meditation at the beginning of January, which I did. But before then I made the mistake of trying to re-create my experience for a friend of mine, tripping with him a couple of weeks after the initial breakthrough. Psychedelics being the treacherous friends that they are, my friend did not have a spiritual experience and at the same time I became convinced that my own original experience had meant nothing. The morning after, when my friend had gone, I was left depressed, nearly suicidal. Then a very small thing happened to reassure me.
So, many years later I decided to write my next song , “Toehold,” about that, as kind of a companion piece to “The Psychedelic Waltz.” I resolved to keep this one much more simple in terms of production, and mostly succeeded: the main part of the song is just three tracks of electric piano (one of which is the bass), a shaker, a tambourine, vocals, and some really terrible-sounding “drums”, which were in fact cardboard boxes being slapped with my open hand.
The opening sounds were swiped from Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music, and the narration after the main part of the song has a drone behind it (along with a little bit of electric piano, plus a kalimba near the end) which I think was taken from The Theatre of Eternal Music: Dream House ‘78 by La Monte Young and Marian Zazeela.
The instrumental segment which follows the narration contains my first (and not particularly successful) attempt to create a solo - or at least the impression of one - by recording the organ at half-speed and noodling in the lower keys so that it would sound as though I were riffing really fast when played back at normal speed.
This section has another Diga Rhythm Band percussion loop as its foundation, plus me tapping on a wooden rolling pin with a knife handle (which broke loose about two-thirds of the way through, though I managed to continue. I added organ chords, electric piano-bass and the aforementioned half-speed organ. I think I was trying to sound like the Soft Machine.
After finishing this recording I was originally too embarrassed by the self-consciously artsy narration and the organ ‘solo’, so I faded the track at the end of the main part of the song, before the beginning of the narration. But that makes for an extremely depressing ending, and thirty some-odd years later I’ve decided that I like the rest of the track well enough to include the whole thing, so here it is:
Toehold
Face at the mushroom window, I followed the Light with my eyes
and knew that the time had come to follow it into the sky.
But the trouble with visions is that sometimes they don’t let you see,
until what you find is yourself, stoned and alone on your knees.
Oh, but hours ago I was sailing, oh, on feelings
of knowing that I could be spending my life in wonder.
Oh, but all I can bring to the railing is the feeling
of having a feeling so right...shot out from under me.
A change in the weather coming - my moment of truth was a lie.
And now that my toehold’s gone, this face is no place to hide.
Oh, the pressure of doubt growing: the Rock of Gibraltar took a fall.
It shattered apart and now its stones have all grown into walls. Ohhh...
Oh, and where is the reason that blew down, oh, that made me
think that I could stake out a place in the flow?
Oh, and what can I possibly do now? Oh, should I
just shrug myself out of the way? I don’t know...
(Narration.)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’ve been a big fan of Jack Bruce since his days with Cream. He’s an amazing musician and composer, and has one of the great rock ‘n’ roll voices. At the time these songs of mine were being recorded I was listening a lot to his solo albums Songs for a Tailor and Harmony Row, and at one point I got inspired by a song of his called “Boston Baseball Game 1967.”
For each verse in this song Bruce has two entirely different sets of lyrics - set to two entirely different melodies - going on at the same time, each on opposite sides of the stereo mix. But each of these lyrics ends on the same word and the melodies join and harmonize for just that one brief moment each time.
For those of you who haven’t heard it, here it is:
Boston Baseball Game 1967
I decided I would try to write a song using that same approach.
(Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream...
It’s only a dream...)
Let it go!
Out there I’m not sure of that which I’m surest -
it’s all just a show they put on for the tourists.
But sliding down the rabbit hole
I’m putting new shoes on my soul.
And here I know that I’m alive
instead of watching life go by.
And I’m comin’ through - it must be true,
‘cause now you see me, now I do.
Call it my imagination, but...
I’m pickin’ up good vibrations.
(Good, good, good...)
How can I be this full of feeling such a loving grace
embrace this happy, holy fool?
Oh, I feel it glow...
This is the road home.
(Ommm... Ahhhhh...ommm)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like many people who came of age in the ‘60’s and early 70’s, the first stirrings of spirituality in my life arrived via the experience of psychedelics. In my case it was one particular experience in early December, 1970, involving psilocybin mushrooms and the newly-released album by George Harrison, All Things Must Pass.
As a result of this experience I resolved to stop doing drugs and learn Transcendental Meditation at the beginning of January, which I did. But before then I made the mistake of trying to re-create my experience for a friend of mine, tripping with him a couple of weeks after the initial breakthrough. Psychedelics being the treacherous friends that they are, my friend did not have a spiritual experience and at the same time I became convinced that my own original experience had meant nothing. The morning after, when my friend had gone, I was left depressed, nearly suicidal. Then a very small thing happened to reassure me.
So, many years later I decided to write my next song , “Toehold,” about that, as kind of a companion piece to “The Psychedelic Waltz.” I resolved to keep this one much more simple in terms of production, and mostly succeeded: the main part of the song is just three tracks of electric piano (one of which is the bass), a shaker, a tambourine, vocals, and some really terrible-sounding “drums”, which were in fact cardboard boxes being slapped with my open hand.
The opening sounds were swiped from Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music, and the narration after the main part of the song has a drone behind it (along with a little bit of electric piano, plus a kalimba near the end) which I think was taken from The Theatre of Eternal Music: Dream House ‘78 by La Monte Young and Marian Zazeela.
The instrumental segment which follows the narration contains my first (and not particularly successful) attempt to create a solo - or at least the impression of one - by recording the organ at half-speed and noodling in the lower keys so that it would sound as though I were riffing really fast when played back at normal speed.
This section has another Diga Rhythm Band percussion loop as its foundation, plus me tapping on a wooden rolling pin with a knife handle (which broke loose about two-thirds of the way through, though I managed to continue. I added organ chords, electric piano-bass and the aforementioned half-speed organ. I think I was trying to sound like the Soft Machine.
After finishing this recording I was originally too embarrassed by the self-consciously artsy narration and the organ ‘solo’, so I faded the track at the end of the main part of the song, before the beginning of the narration. But that makes for an extremely depressing ending, and thirty some-odd years later I’ve decided that I like the rest of the track well enough to include the whole thing, so here it is:
Toehold
Face at the mushroom window, I followed the Light with my eyes
and knew that the time had come to follow it into the sky.
But the trouble with visions is that sometimes they don’t let you see,
until what you find is yourself, stoned and alone on your knees.
Oh, but hours ago I was sailing, oh, on feelings
of knowing that I could be spending my life in wonder.
Oh, but all I can bring to the railing is the feeling
of having a feeling so right...shot out from under me.
A change in the weather coming - my moment of truth was a lie.
And now that my toehold’s gone, this face is no place to hide.
Oh, the pressure of doubt growing: the Rock of Gibraltar took a fall.
It shattered apart and now its stones have all grown into walls. Ohhh...
Oh, and where is the reason that blew down, oh, that made me
think that I could stake out a place in the flow?
Oh, and what can I possibly do now? Oh, should I
just shrug myself out of the way? I don’t know...
(Narration.)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’ve been a big fan of Jack Bruce since his days with Cream. He’s an amazing musician and composer, and has one of the great rock ‘n’ roll voices. At the time these songs of mine were being recorded I was listening a lot to his solo albums Songs for a Tailor and Harmony Row, and at one point I got inspired by a song of his called “Boston Baseball Game 1967.”
For each verse in this song Bruce has two entirely different sets of lyrics - set to two entirely different melodies - going on at the same time, each on opposite sides of the stereo mix. But each of these lyrics ends on the same word and the melodies join and harmonize for just that one brief moment each time.
For those of you who haven’t heard it, here it is:
Boston Baseball Game 1967
I decided I would try to write a song using that same approach.
“Two Songs One” is about a couple who love each other but are being drawn apart by their different paths in life. One of them is a spiritual seeker, the other is more analytical/intellectual. They are separating, but each one wishes the other well and tries to speak in words the other will understand, and expresses the hope that their diverging paths will somehow lead them back to each other. This song was inspired to some extent by a relationship I was in at the time.
Although I made one serious error of judgement in not separating the voices to the left and right as Jack Bruce did, and if I ever re-record this I would rewrite some of the lyrics (And no, I have no idea what the ‘Dreaming Stones’ are - they just showed up in whatever imaginary Buddhist cave-temple I was visiting while I wrote the lyrics) I’m very proud of this song. The music is very simple (just electric piano, organ and four voice tracks), the harmonies turned out really well, and there’s something about it that still really touches me. Here it is:
Two Songs One
Ride the waves to the China Sea. In our doubt, we’ve taken separate paths -
Talk to the sailors there, lonely and winding ways back to each other.
ask them to show you where to go. Gazing, we discover
Burn your incense to the Dreaming Stones. So go your way. Brush off my mystic's crumbs
Speak of how far you’ve come, and try to reason how to make our two songs
pray them to make our two songs one. - all the sea and dew songs -
try to make our two songs one.
Still the chant of seasons in your mind. Logic has attractive means to ends,
Raise your face to the sky, but still, you can get taught by its expenses -
look deep into the eyes of night. caught within the fences
And follow the smokey trails into sleep. Still, in my dream I see you thinking hard
Dream how the Dance is done. in hopes you’ll find
Although I made one serious error of judgement in not separating the voices to the left and right as Jack Bruce did, and if I ever re-record this I would rewrite some of the lyrics (And no, I have no idea what the ‘Dreaming Stones’ are - they just showed up in whatever imaginary Buddhist cave-temple I was visiting while I wrote the lyrics) I’m very proud of this song. The music is very simple (just electric piano, organ and four voice tracks), the harmonies turned out really well, and there’s something about it that still really touches me. Here it is:
Two Songs One
Ride the waves to the China Sea. In our doubt, we’ve taken separate paths -
Talk to the sailors there, lonely and winding ways back to each other.
ask them to show you where to go. Gazing, we discover
mazes in each other’s eyes.
Burn your incense to the Dreaming Stones. So go your way. Brush off my mystic's crumbs
Speak of how far you’ve come, and try to reason how to make our two songs
pray them to make our two songs one. - all the sea and dew songs -
try to make our two songs one.
Still the chant of seasons in your mind. Logic has attractive means to ends,
Raise your face to the sky, but still, you can get taught by its expenses -
look deep into the eyes of night. caught within the fences
thought so much depends upon.
And follow the smokey trails into sleep. Still, in my dream I see you thinking hard
Dream how the Dance is done. in hopes you’ll find
Learn how to make our two songs one. a way to make our two songs
- all the who is who songs -
try to make our two songs one.
Mine is the wind, Yours is the wind,
Yours is all for the sun. Mine is all for the sun.
Wake up with my name upon your lips. Close behind the things we think we know
Think of me waiting here , there is a quiet place
try to make our two songs one.
Mine is the wind, Yours is the wind,
Yours is all for the sun. Mine is all for the sun.
Wake up with my name upon your lips. Close behind the things we think we know
Think of me waiting here , there is a quiet place
think of us sharing tears of joy. where all we’ve mastered
graces us with laughter,
plays with what we’re after now.
Then leave your musty hermit cave behind. When the time between the seconds comes,
Come, fast as feet will run. you know we’ll know
plays with what we’re after now.
Then leave your musty hermit cave behind. When the time between the seconds comes,
Come, fast as feet will run. you know we’ll know
We’ll share the making two songs one. that all the time our two songs
- all the me or you songs -
all the time were two songs one.
- all the me or you songs -
all the time were two songs one.
No comments:
Post a Comment