Reliance Notes
Let me just say right off the bat that I have no clear idea what I'm about to write. Well, maybe that's not true. I'm going to write about the twelve songs on our new record, their origins and deeper meanings, their relevance in my life. I guess what I'm not clear on is how interesting my insights will be to anybody but myself. But since we're tucked safely away here in our tiny little corner of the web, and since you're probably reading these words for some reason, I think I'm just not going to worry about motivations -- yours or mine -- and simply write whatever comes to me.
I may as well begin with the song Dave and Joe are presently tweaking in the room next door (we're at a mix facility in NYC, by the way) and which is being piped into the lounge here. It's called, "Another Man." The lyrics are as follows:
There is an ocean in the sky
The road is a river
The shoulder I'm following is crumbling
Started as only half a lie
Indian summer
It was my fortune I was gambling
Oh I was gambling
My life turned off the road ahead
But now I know what I woulda said
If I was twice as old and knew of a better plan If I was only -- Another Man
There is a road sign I pass by
There is a pay phone
There is a secret that I'm harboring
Idle the car and dim the lights
Ain't it familiar
All of these things that keep reminding me I was gambling
My life turned off the road ahead
But now I know what I woulda said
If I was twice as old and knew of a better plan If I was only -- Another Man
Light up a smoke and close my eyes
Drop in the coins and dial
To hear your voice one more time
Drop the phone and drive
Drive
My life turned off the road ahead
But now I know what I woulda said
If I was twice as old and strong enough to stand
If I was only, if I was only
If I was only -- Another Man
I hadn't planned on beginning with this song (or any song, for that matter) but now that I have, I'm glad. It very much typifies the writing on this record. I say this for two reasons:
1. I didn't write it alone -- something new for me since last time.
AND
2. The narrator -- a male drifter driving through a familiar place, haunted by some old, life- altering mistake -- appears throughout the record.
As for the first reason, my co-writers were Dave Bassett who I met and wrote with in France, and Walter Salas-Humara, a friend of Dave's and now, thankfully, of mine. Walter, by the way, is a founding member of a band I love called The Silos. The Silos provided the soundtrack for my first couple of years out of college, and even the song my wife and I danced to at our wedding reception (I'm just trying to express the fact that meeting and writing with Walter was, for me, like meeting and writing with Bob Dylan. I'll try not to belabor this point.) I was in Los Angeles meeting a possible producer and writing with some folks, and I called Dave Bassett who invited me over to his place to try and write. When I got there he casually picked up the phone and called to his neighbor up the street, Walter. You get the idea.
Meanwhile, it had been raining in LA -- there were mudslides and roads closed -- for a week straight, so when the three of us finally picked up guitars that kind of imagery immediately came to mind.
There is an ocean in the sky
The road is a river
The shoulder I'm following is crumbling
From there we slowly built a story of a broken man returning to some important place in his life. We got the first couple of verses and a chorus and title that night then wrote the rest over the phone and through the mail over the next six weeks or so. To be honest with you, I very much wanted the song to feel like a Silos song...evocative, ambiguous, melodic and rocking. I think we accomplished all that.
Now for the second reason: the narrator. This is a person I know. He is me in an alternate universe, the young guy from "Slightly Aimless" ten years older. He represents the part of me that finds misery romantic and who secretly wishes to remain forever "lost in America." Luckily, that guy is no longer running my life. But he's there.
A GENERAL ASIDE: For me, co-writing at it's best still satisfies a personal need to express something, which this song very much does. Also, it's instructive. I took something away from every one of the collaborations on this record. On this one, it's the fact that less is more, and a lot of times, the story is in what you don't say. That's a big one for me, whose natural inclination is to find the words, force the story. Walter is the master of holding back and letting the story tell itself.
Last night Dave's wife, Dana, called and said she'd been listening to some demos Dave and I did recently. "What would you have said?" she asked, referencing the chorus of "Another Man." The fact that I didn't have an answer for her is the main reason I love this song so much.
Simplify
Thirty seven kinds of coffee
Thirty seconds to decide
As the line backs up behind me
Say, "I'll take number nine."
Things have gotten complicated
There's confusion in your eyes
So I called this conversation
'cause now I realize
We got to simplify this life we're living
Count the gifts that we've been given
Hold me close beneath the changing sky
We got to simplify
Let's spend the day out in the country
Like we used to do before
Before the rat race sent us running
When our hearts were young and pure
We got to simplify this life we're living
Count the gifts that we've been given
Hold me close beneath the changing sky
We got to simplify
We can get there again
We can leave this whole world behind
All the love we knew then
Is still there for us to find
We got to simplify this life we're living
Count the gifts that we've been given
Hold me close beneath the changing sky
We got to simplify
This song was written at the home of Steve Diamond in Nashville, Tennessee. Steve has probably written a lot of famous songs, but the only one I can think of at the moment is "Rock and Roll Heart" ("...I get off on '57 Chevys, I get off on screamin' guitars..."). My publishing company hooked us up and we met one morning last Spring.
I'd been playing a chord progression -- the one in the verses -- the night before in my motel room. After some small talk and a few cups of coffee we started hitting upon a concept. "...getting back to basics...no, that's not quite it...how about SIMPLIFY? Yeah, that sounds cool. I don't think I ever heard that before."
Steve came up with the groovy changes on the chorus and before you knew it we had a title, two strong verses and a chorus. I must say, the first verse:
Thirty seven kinds of coffee
Thirty seconds to decide
As the line backs up behind me
Say, "I'll take #9."
is one of my favorite in recent memory. We spent a couple of hours writing a bridge and a few possible verses and called it a day. All in all, I'd say we were together maybe three hours.
The funny thing about this song is I didn't consider it for The Gathering Field at first. I don't know why, I just thought it could be a good country song or maybe, because of some of the chord changes, a Baby Face type pop song. It wasn't until five months later when I wrote some new lyrics and asked Dave to help me demo it, that I saw how cool it was. Under Dave's bold guitar guidance the song became more driving, especially on the choruses, and began to show it's true power. Now it's one of my favorites.
I'd Believe in God For You
I walked the world alone so long
Lost on my own trip
I had to see it, touch it, taste it
Or it did not exist
I was a faithless man
Empty heart and hand
A tired traveler in a barren land
But I have seen the light
It looks a lot like you
So baby if you ask me to
I'll believe in God for you
The stars are shining down on us
I see it all so clear
I can't remember what it was
I ran from all those years
Now I'm alive again
You are my oxygen
I got more faith than a thousand men
And I have seen the light, it looks a lot like you
And it's your love that pulls me through
Now I realize that all you said was true
So baby when you ask me to
I'll believe in God for you
Beautiful
Miracle
And I have seen the light...
I got the amazing opportunity to attend a songwriter's retreat in the south of France. It's organized by Miles Copeland (former manager of the Police...brother of Police drummer, Stewart Copeland) and takes place twice a year at his castle. The session in which I participated was in September of '97.
I'll probably get into the crazy, anxiety-ridden environment a little later. For now, I'll just say you wake up each morning and are teamed with either one or two other writers and assigned a certain room. A half hour later you meet and have all day to write and fully demo a song. Towards the end of my stay, I was teamed up with Hawk Wolinski (who bears a striking resemblance to Cotton Hill) and Jane Wiedlin. Hawk is known for writing a bunch of R&B classics and playing organ with, among others, Chaka Kahn. Jane, of course, is known for her work with the Go-Gos.
Anyway, it was the only overcast day that week. We were in Hawk's room, I think. Jane was determined to write a song that would work for The Gathering Field and immediately began picking my brain. I started playing an Em based progression I'd been fiddling with which Hawk transformed into a driving groove. As Jane and I talked, I offered up a title I'd been carrying around -- I'd Believe in God For You. It was inspired by the then girlfriend of a friend who was mistrustful of his seeming lack of religious faith.
While Hawk Wolinski is a smoking player and a bottomless pit of melodic and musical ideas, he's not real strong in the lyrics department (he comes from the old school, where lyrics are an afterthought.) So Jane and I sat on a bed riffing lines back and forth as Hawk paced the floor spewing out bad idea after bad idea. Gradually Jane and I kind of tuned him out and came up with the above words and Hawk helped us give it a melody. Overall it was pretty painless and seemed to become one of the most requested songs at late-night playback sessions in the dining room.
Once again, though I co-wrote this song, it feels, lyrically at least, very much up my alley. You know, spiritually bankrupt man finds love, finds God. Also, I learned something, especially from Jane. Focus and efficiency. There's not much fat on this one.
Always a Reason
I been down
I been around
I been lost
And I been found
I been dumb
I been numb
I been blind
But the miracles still come
There's always a reason
Sometimes invisible
Always a reason, but sometimes
You can't see them
She was gone
By the dawn
With her went
The ground that I stood on
And the pain
Fell like rain
But it passed
And I opened up again
There's always a reason
Sometimes invisible
Always a reason, but sometimes
You can't see them
Just before the quiet time
When black of night becomes the sunrise
You are sure that it will never shine
I see it shining
There's always a reason
Sometimes invisible
Always a reason, but sometimes
You can't see them
Two things you may or may not know. a.) My wife and I had our first baby last January (Luke Nathaniel) and b.) I recently completed my first novel. These two occurrences are pretty much unrelated. I only mention it to illustrate the point that songs evolve.
When I first wrote Always A Reason, I was deep in the creative process of RANSOM SEABORN and for some goofy reason decided to write a song from the perspective of a character in the book. In fact when we demoed it with John Holbrook, a producer we were considering, I used those lyrics. Afterwards, though, I realized that writing it in such a way greatly reduced it's appeal, as very few people have read my book (it's still unpublished.) So during recording, I took another stab at it.
The next try was equally unsuccessful. I tried to make it a direct dialogue with Luke which, though very moving to me, again felt too specific and ultimately off the mark. Finally I decided on the broad approach, in the style of an old soul song or something. You know? Simple, and easy to grasp...especially the verses.
Two other points about this one: the entire chorus came to me while sitting in an incredibly crowded restauraunt in Disneyland (or is it world, the one in Orlando.) I think the melody even came then. Second, I wrote it in a guitar tuning I'd recently learned from Kevin Bowe (who you'll meet later): OPEN C (everything's a C, except the A's a G, and the G's a G.)
Remember the loner from "Another Man?" Well this is his optimistic alter-ego...ME.
Right Where You Want Me
I'm a fool
You're a liar
I'm a dry stick of wood
You are a fire
I thought it through
Baby I thought it over
Only thing I got to do now
Is tell you it's over
Then you reach out your hand
And you pull on my heart
And my well designed plan
Crumbles apart
When I look in your eyes
I don't like what I see
Got me right where you want me
You slide like a snake
And you purr with your pleasure
With your trigger eye open you're
taking My desperate measure
And I mean to go slow
And I meant to go somewhere
'bout the only place I got to go now
Is further down under
Then you reach out your hand...
Now I'm lying alone
And I'm wondering why
You don't call on the phone
You don't ever stop by
When I look in my eyes
I don't like what I see
Got me right where you want me
I remember a long time ago Dave and I had a conversation about the nature of being human and how we're all earth and sky, roots and branches, dark and light...and how both parts are necessary somehow. If you've followed my songwriting at all, you know I am pretty much equally committed to both sides of the sphere, and very much preoccupied with the eternal, dramatic struggle between the two. I find it interesting to write songs about moments in which the worlds collide. That's what's happening here.
The song is pretty much about sex (the imagery is fairly transparent,) or maybe it's about a relationship that's based on sex, with one person having all the control and the other becoming more and more obsessed. It's similar, I suppose, to "And I Wanted," except that in that song the characters were equally powerless over their desires. In this one, the scales have tipped and the narrator is pretty desperate.
(Author's note: it's a new day -- Sunday, January 24th -- now and we're finishing the mix of this song. I'm not discussing the sound or production of the songs in these notes, but I have to say, this one is a pretty exciting departure. Ray, Dave and Eric, along with a few special guests, get to expose their jazz roots, flex their improv muscles. I'll be anxious to see what you think.)
When I Put the Record On
It started on a lonely Friday
The world was gray and overcast again
I couldn't find no one to be my friend
Locked the bedroom door as always
Saw my brother's records laying there
And so began a life-long love affair
I put the record on the stereo
And though I wasn't quite a Romeo
The lonliness was gone
When I put the record on
And with the spinning of the turn table
I felt a burden lifted from my soul
I saw a new day dawn
When I put the record on
Years went by and still I struggled
Lovers lost to what I could not say
Running from the sober light of day
But as the world around me crumbled
I heard the sweet and lyrical refrain
Heroes walking homeward through the rain
I put the record on the stereo...
And it said:
Shalalalala Shalalalalala
You ain't alone in your sorrow
Shalalalala Shalalalalala
You ain't alone in your pain
Shalalalala Shalalalalala
You'll feel better tomorrow
I put the record on the stereo...
Music, for me, is like a woman I fell in love with when I was 17 and who continues to rock my world filling me, over and over, with that "squealing feeling." More than that, though, it's a friend who has seen me through more than a little confusion, more than my share of hard times. It's always been there, nourishing my soul when nothing else could, since the day I first discovered it waiting for me there in my brother's record collection (CSN, Uncle Neil, Jackson Browne...)
As for the sha la las etc., I was just trying to capture the innocence of classic old songs and classic old influences like, oh, say, Van Morrison. There's a chance, I suppose, that the flagrant rip-off will be criticized by some, but I stand by it. What is songwriting except distilling your influences in a way that gets you, and hopefully a few other folks, off? Am I right or am I right?
When I sing the first verse, I picture our old bedroom, and me sitting on the edge of my bed memorizing harmonies, singing along with Graham Nash and David Crosby, imagining myself on the Civic Arena stage. In the second verse, for some reason, I remember drunken nights in Charlottesville, VA. Stumbling back to my friend, Chris's, Range room...feeling more lost and generally fucked-up than I had ever felt. I'd sit at his desk 'till the wee hours of the morning, a jug of wine or vodka at my finger tips, listening to Van Morrison's "No Guru, No Method, No Teacher" in the head phones. Ah, youth.
Promises
In the dark heart of my journey
On the dark night of my soul
I felt an old familiar yearning
For what I did not know
You see I had to have my freedom
So I hit the open road
What I thought I needed
I don't know
Wait for me to come
I hope it won't be long
Made you those promises of love
Now the life that left me empty
Is a faded paradise
And the sun goes down so swiftly
But it takes so long to rise
I seen one too many sunsets
Without you by my side
Wait for me to come
I hope it won't be long
Made you those promises of love
You thought that I was strong
I guess that you were wrong
Breaking those promises of love
This song was written in a hotel room in Los Angeles (I feel so Jackson Browne saying that) by myself and a soft spoken man named Marty Frederickson. I think I'd been playing some variation of the verse chords, and had a general vibe for the song, before he arrived. Once we got comfortable with each other - a shared pot of room service coffee - our collaboration was surprisingly effortless. I didn't know at the time how much I would come to love the song, or how perfectly it would fit in with the new record.
This song is similar in content to "Another Man." The main character is, quite possibly, the same sad guy, maybe even the guy from Lost in America, wallowing in regret and knowing full well that he can't change the past. I especially like lines like "I felt an old familiar yearning for what I did not know" in which a comma - after the "what" - can drastically alter the meaning. Also, singing this feels almost like crying, which is a good thing. I'm not 100% sure what the word "plaintive" means, but I think it might describe "Promises."
Complicated Me
Out in the deep end
I'm alive
Not that you would know
Wasted the week-end
Driving by
Places where you go
I know that you like 'em dangerous
And I ain't dangerous enough
I want to be complicated, celebrated
Mysterious, yeah loved and hated
All my life I waited for someone to notice me
Hello world, it's complicated me
Every diamond
Starts its life
As a piece of coal
I ain't a diamond
Just some guy
Standing in the cold
I'm an obvious victim of circumstance
And I know I ain't got a chance
I want to be complicated....
I know I could walk right up to you
But I'm afraid you'd see right through
You'd see right through
Ah, what's the use
I want to be complicated...
I want to be complicated, emulated
Mysterious, yeah loved and hated
All my life I waited to be taken seriously
Hello world, it's complicated me
This is another Los Angeles song. It was written in the course of two visits with a guy named Jamie Houston. Jamie had the catchy as hell chorus melody ahead of time and that was where we started. I'm not sure, but I think Jamie even had the "complicated" idea.
We agonized for hours over which direction to take, in terms of the story. In order for it to remain interesting for me, I needed it to be somewhat dark. Finally we settled on the teen-angst, outsider-looking-in, stalker type thing with which, sadly, we both related.
This song reminds me of driving around Penn Hills when I was senior in high school. My friends and I were not what you would call cassanovas and we'd cruise the streets in search of imaginary girls. I was never officially a stalker, I don't think. One time, though, I did develop an unfounded infatuation with a girl who worked at the GC Murphy's at the Monroeville Mall. I never spoke to her, of course. Instead, I'd drive out there periodically and see if she was there, maybe shop in a nearby aisle. Come to think of it, I guess I was a stalker.
Beautiful Land
Strip away the bar and gun shop
Strip away the lonesome telephone lines
Strip away the faded blacktop
Strip away these things, I'll tell you what you'll find
Beautiful land
With the hills all around
Where the mountain tops reach
For the billowing clouds
Touch of God's hand
Is a whispering sound
Of the wind through the leaves
In the dawn's misty shroud
Beautiful land
My coat still holds her perfume
My car seat a few strands of her hair
I see my red eyes in the rear view
I been driving through the high country air Through the...
Beautiful land...
I don't ever want to get that way again
I turned my back on who I was
I turned my back on all my friends
I don't ever want to get that way...
In the stillness of the morning
In the absence of a practical plan
In the wake of my transforming
From a loved one to a stranger again
Lies a...
Beautiful land...
This one feels important, somehow. A summation of some of the things I've been writing about for the past ten years. Beautiful land.
Dave and Dana had just had their wedding ceremony in Grove City on June 1st, 1996. Paula and I met them in New Hampshire, a week or so after, for a smaller, slightly more intimate affair. It was during this trip, driving through the White Mountains (or were they the Green Mountains) that this song came to me. I was fiddling around with a different tuning (open G) and the basic verse and chorus progression materialized. The opening lyrics followed. I remember taking my guitar out to the living room to play it for everyone and feeling like I was really on to something.
The obvious story is the one that's there: a man leaves the scene of a damaging relationship, drives all night away from her, remembers. Shortly after sunrise he has a revelation, inspired by the breathtaking landscape which surrounds him. He's all right. He's beautiful. Just like the scenery through which he drives. Just like the trees and mountains. Just like the breeze that blows through his window.
The mention of God is no accident as I am very preoccupied with the notion of grace, and how it manifests itself in our lives. I firmly believe that "the whispering sound of the wind through the leaves" may well be the literal "touch of God's hand." At least that's been my experience. Thinking about it now, I realize that the mood here is very akin to that set on "Midnight Ghost" from LIA. Especially in lines like "In a sense my innocence..." and "Tidings whispered and merciful..." However, "Beautiful Land" is more tangible revelation. Less a prayer. More a physical sensation.
My Serenity
I want to get close to you
But I don't know where you are
I had a dream, it woke me up
Now I can't remember what I saw
Am I alone again?
The room still looks the same
But there's this buzzing in the atmosphere
Your energy is everywhere
It almost speaks your name
I try but I fail
I run but I fall
Falling I find I still can crawl
I'm down on my knees
I'm reaching for you
Are you reaching for me?
My serenity
See these prison bars
Some of my best laid plans
I tunneled through the mountainside
Disregarded warning signs
Mad with my own hands
I try but I fail...
There's this buzzing in the atmosphere
Your energy is everywhere
It almost speaks your name
I try but I fail
I run but I fall
Falling I find I still can crawl
I'm living to learn
I'm dying to find
That place in my heart, that peace of mind
I'm down on my knees
I'm reaching for you
Are you reaching for me?
Keep reaching for me
My serenity
This song was written on the first working day of the castle experience I mentioned earlier. Can I just tell you how terrified I was? I didn't know a single soul. I'd only recently begun co-writing and was anxious about my ability to hold my own. And I'm sitting in a room with Stewart Copeland, Belinda Carlisle, Howard Jones, Paul Brady and several other towering noteables.
Also, this seems like a good time to mention that a little over five years ago, I decided I could no longer drink alcohol. It was a decision born of necessity, if you know what I mean, and I take steps to retain my sobriety in my daily living. (If you know our earlier records, this comes as no revelation.) The only reason I mention my condition, is that if ever there was a golden opportunity to slip, France was it. All the reasons it terrified me, could easily have doubled as reasons to drink.
Back to the song, my first assignment was with Kris Mckay and Dave Bassett. We sat there with guitars in hand, getting to know one another, and gradually it became obvious that one of my co-writers had a similar stance on the demon alcohol. Not only did this mean I'd have a little support for my stay, it also provided a creative catalyst. We proceeded to write a smokin' love song to that ever-elusive state, serenity.
Alcatraz
Steven and I hitch-hiking
Our day off to hanover
Beat up car with young girl driving
Slowed down and pulled over
In the rearview mirror
Like co-conspirators we did smile
I did not know that I was running
I saw the sunlight streaming
Down on the landscape
Of my Alcatraz escape
From the sadness 'twas born in my soul
Three years passed, still I was suffering
Spent that March in Charlottesville
Saw the ghost of Thomas Jefferson
Leaning on my window sill
With his thin powdered hair
And his concubine there he did smile
I did not know that I was running
I saw the twilight gleaming
Down on the landscape
Of my Alcatraz escape
From the sadness 'twas born in my soul
I went down through the labyrinth
Of my falsified regret
Deep in flight from the light
In my soul
What a complicated tapestry I sewed
All that energy I wasted on my fears
All those years spent stumbling down that lonely road
Now it's not very clear
How far or how near I have come
I did not know that I was running
I see the sunlight streaming
Down on the landscape...
What can I say? This is vintage Bill Deasy songwriting: autobiographical, slightly meandering, ripe with words like "soul" and "light" and "Labyrinth." This is the oldest song on our new record. I wrote it before Lost in America came out on Atlantic in August of '96.
It's another Van Morrison nod, although not to "Domino," as some might suspect. To me, it's more like "And it Stoned Me" in it's hearkening back to a lost, innocent time, youth. The day to which I refer in the first verse was like many days I spent that golden summer, drunken and rich. Steven is still a great friend of mine and we recall those times often.
The Heart of Everything
In the dark before the day
You're still drunk from yesterday
When there's nothing left to say
Maybe then you'll find a way
To the heart of everything
When you've fallen from the path
Frozen in the aftermath
When the good times all go bad
Maybe then you'll make it back
To the heart of everything
When it all comes down
and you're hanging from a string
You'll come around to the heart of everything
I'm not trying to pretend
I know how your story ends
But I have been right where you are
And I know it's not that far
To the heart of everything
When it all comes down...
I have been right where you are
And I know it's not that far
To the heart of everything
To the heart of everything
To the heart of everything
We hadn't planned on ending the record with this song. "Beautiful Land" had been earmarked for that distinction. But, I don't know. For a lot of reasons this seemed like a good way to sign off. It's one of the strongest songs, and I'm a firm believer in ending strong. And it's simple and hopeful and honest...and it rocks.
I wrote this when a talented fellow from Minnesota - Kevin Bowe -- came to visit for a few days last winter. Again, certain shared personality traits made the subject matter a natural. We finished it in less than an hour, no lie, and each knew instantly that we would be playing it for many years to come. I found out yesterday, Kevin just mixed his version of it. I hope you like ours.
I think that wraps it up. I had visions of some poetic and beautiful closing remarks, but I believe I've used up my monthly allotment of words. If you've read this far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Please feel free to e-mail me with any questions or comments. I'll do my best to respond in a prompt manner.Bill