"Sailing Around The Room"

Well, it's been almost ten months since I've posted anything out here. I've been Facebooking up a storm, but find that my blog is better for topics requiring more than a brief description.

So, as the autumn of the year finds me more reflective and introspective, I find turning inward provides opportunities to field dreams and harvest inspirations.

And, as a result, my autumn compilation CD for 2009, "Sugar Boy," flows with songs about maturing, aging and passing.



I stumbled on two different songs about these themes. The first is Emmylou Harris's "Sailing Around The Room," from her "All I Intended To Be" CD. The second is John Mellencamp's "Longest Days."

These songs resonate strongly now as I witness my own folks aging and my father, specifically, dealing with frontal lobe dementia and, likely, Alzheimer's. They make me appreciate him more, fear death less and prepare for the ultimate transition that we all face.

Last night, or late this early morning, I had a dream about apparently dying or having a near death experience. It was in color - which is rare - and included a cast of near 30 or more people including family - virtual and real - co-workers, Emmylou Harris, my guitar, my 'passing out' on a couch in California and my 'waking,' evidently, in a 'passed' state. I was flying . . .

In fact, in my waking hours, I remember so vividly the sensations of flying that I swear I've done it. In fact, I was surprised today everytime I thought about alighting and then realizing I couldn't. The funny thing is I'm more frustrated by my inability to soar and fly, as I do in my dreams, now that I can 'feel' what it's like in my waking hours.

So, it is the dream coming to life . . . the passing from one plane to the next.

And, it's Emmylou Harris's "Sailing Around The Room" that brought this, or perhaps, coalesced this all for me, all of a sudden.

Here's the video followed by the lyrics.

"Sailing Around The Room" (video)


Sailing Around The Room

One last gaze upon the sun
Bid farewell to everyone
Kicked that bucket out the door
Where I'm goin I won't need it anymore

Gonna lay my burden down
Take a birdseye look around
From the tall pines of Carolina
All the way to the Wall of China

So I go sailing round the room
Through my window, cross the silver moon
No flesh and bone to hold me
I'll finally set my soul free
When I go sailing round the room

Life may be just but a dream
Rode my boat on down the stream
To wake up on a different shore
Wind up as something I aint never been before

I could be a drop of summer rain
Fallin down on an Oklahoma plain
Gonna leave the world behind me
Look around and you will find me

So I go sailing round the room
Through my window, cross the silver moon
No flesh and bone to hold me
I'll finally set my soul free
When I go sailing round the room


[I.....will be.....]
In the smoke from Mauna Loa
Morning mist on the Shenandoah

[I.....will be.....]
Grain of sand in the Kalahari
Magnolia by the Mississippi

[I.....will be.....]
Bird song when the day is breaking
Words of love when your heart is aching

Blue bonnet by the highway
I'll be everywhere and always

When I go sailing round the room
Through my window, cross the silver moon
No flesh and bone to hold me
I'll finally set my soul free

When I go sailing round the room
Through my window, cross the silver moon
No flesh and bone to hold me
I'll finally set my soul free
When I go sailing round the room

Musings on music . . .

On the music front, I most appreciate artists and their repertoire over years of writing and/or performing. In our current digital age, disposable culture and shrunken attention spans, I struggle with today's penchant for "songs" (what - when I was a kid - we called "one hit wonders") versus "albums". I have some "songs" in my collection (mostly dance remixes, appropriately, I think!), but as a relationship person generally, I've always preferred finding an artist that could consistently and repeatedly tell good stories. I'm particularly fond of "theme" or "concept" albums. In fact, one reason I put out my CD when I did is because I recognized - on a time line - putting out a "concept" CD (collection of songs) - complete with well thought out and "intentional" photographic images and including the lyrics in a "designed" lyric booklet - was a "now or never" proposition. In fact, I probably hit the market with a concept CD moments after the whole digital revolution sounded the death knell for the compact disc. But, I would not have missed the opportunity.



So, that's why my favorite genre is "Americana." My favorite artists are all storytellers, regardless of whether they're singer/songwriters or interpretive singers. And, because I have these "relationships" with these artists, I've only room for so many I can truly know in depth. Though most of these are listed on my profile, I wanted to repeat them - and add others - for continuity. Well, the "Old Standbys" include: Bonnie Raitt, John Hiatt (when "on" is a "dead on" lyricist/songwriter/musician/storyteller), James Taylor, Nanci Griffith (she just gets better - like a fine wine - with age), Fleetwood Mac and its 'stars' as solo artists: Stevie Nicks, Lindsey Buckingham (his new disc, "Gift of Screws," is accessible AND truly good) and Christine McVie.



Emmylou Harris has been another huge influence, Patty Griffin (no one writes about the desolate landscape of heartbreak, hopeless desires and never ending hope so well, I think). I'm particularly moved by "When It Don't Come Easy" and "Rain" (which is the first song of Patty's I ever heard. I remember exactly when and where I was when I heard it). Bruce Cockburn's "Dart to the Heart" is an amazing disc. I think he's underrated, too. David Wilcox lost major label representation, but had/has been making consistently good music for awhile, too.



Other more 'mainstream' favorites include: Shawn Colvin and, of late with his latest disc, John Mellencamp.



And, my latest influence and newest artist in residence on my iPod is Ryan Adams. I've ordered his latest disc - which got really good, probably his best reviews - but haven't got it yet. But, "Easy Tiger" has several solid tracks and his "Follow the Lights" EP he did in 2007 has a chestnut that's in heavy rotation (part of an equally heavily rotated customusic mix I made called "giving thanks" at Thanksgiving) called "My Love For You Is Real." I realized lately it would have been perfect on the "Brokeback Mountain" soundtrack. It has this great building, atmospheric outro that echoes wild, wide open spaces and 'big country' skies . . .

Nanci Griffith

On Friday, November 7, Nanci Griffith reprised many of her best known songs in a concert at Berklee's Performance Center in Boston, MA.

Though I've been a fan of Nanci's for more than two decades, I've only had the opportunity to see her in concert once before. I first saw Nanci in concert at The Music Hall in Portsmouth, NH. A bittersweet experience, I ended up seeing Nanci by myself, though I had two tickets to the show. Back then, sifting through the debris of my relationship with "The Love of My Lives," I'd bought the second ticket with the hope that he'd see the show with me. Regardless to say, (and thankfully for me), I can't recall why I ended up there by myself - and wasted the second ticket - but, I remember the experience as amazing.

First, Nanci's height took me by surprise. Her being one of those tall Texan girls totally surprised me. I pictured her as a petite waif! But, she awed me, nonetheless!

So, on Friday, November 7, with a good friend, we witnessed the wonder that is Nanci in all her complex simplicity. Nanci performed her songs with a small and tight band that consisted of two guitarists and one percussionist/drummer. She performed many of the songs that define her career. She particularly showcased songs from her last CD: "Ruby's Torch."

Specifically, three songs from that last disc stand out. Below you'll find the lyrics to the three that stood out for me. And, Nanci states she's headed to the studio in December to record her next disc. I can't wait! Till then, enjoy . . .


"When I Dream"

I could have a mansion that is higher than the trees
I could have all the gifts I want and never ask please
I could fly to Paris, oh, it's at my beck and call
Why do I go through life with nothing at all

But when I dream, I dream of you
Maybe someday you will come true

I can be the singer or the clown in every room
I can even call someone to take me to the moon
I can put my makeup on and drive the men insane
I can go to bed alone and never know his name

But when I dream, I dream of you
Maybe someday you will come true

But when I dream, I dream of you
Maybe someday you will come true


"If These Walls Could Speak"

If these old walls
If these old walls could speak
What a tale they'd have to tell
Hard headed people raising hell
A couple in love living week to week
Rooms full of laughter
If these old walls could speak

If these old halls
If hallowed halls could talk
These would have a tale to tell
The sun going down, a dinner bell
And children playing at hide and seek
From floor to rafter
If these old halls could speak

They would tell you that I'm sorry
For being cold and blind and weak
They would tell you that it's only
That I have a stubborn streak
If these old walls could speak

If these old fashioned
window panes had eyes
I guess they would've seen it all
Each little tear and sigh and footfall
And every dream that we came to seek
or followed after
if these old walls could speak

They would tell you that I owe you
more than I can ever pay
Here's someone who really loves you
Don't ever go away
Is what these walls would say

If they were not so mean
If these old walls could speak


"In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning"

In the wee small hours of the morning
While the whole wide world is fast asleep
You lie awake and think about the girl
And never ever think of counting sheep

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson
You'd be hers if only she would call
In the wee small hours of the morning,
that's the time you miss her most of all

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson,
you'd be hers if only she'd call
In the wee small hours of the morning,
that's the time you'll miss her most of all