Low Tide in Chicago

August 2006

Listening to the Mountain Goats occasionally makes me think along the lines of “Oh god, I will never catch up to John Darnielle.” Although fortunately every time I think that, my subconscious decides to strike back and provide inspiration. Much of this song was written after listening to “You’re in Maya”. It’s somewhat related to that, although for some reason it keeps straying towards Billy Joel in the chorus. Anyway, it’s fairly self-explanatory (a point of style I’m keen on borrowing from the Mountain Goats), and like all good songs, it makes fun of Indiana.

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I’m sitting on the shore in Chicago
While the breakwater spars with the lake
On these old painted stones there are warnings
Saying not to dive headfirst into shallow water
And the stones here are mercifully harsh
And the air is still mercifully cold
But the trees catch the last of the sunset
And they echo in silver and gold

And I throw all my cares to the breakwater
And I wait for the tide to come in
I know the tide never comes in Chicago
But that’s the kind of day that it’s been

Lake Michigan, please take me somewhere
To a ratty old lighthouse up north
Where I’ll live with an automated warning
Saying not to sail past me into shallow water
And the landscape is mercifully stark
And the company mercifully dry
And the mist rolls in deep and forgetful
And blocks out the edge of the sky

And I sit drinking whiskey and lake water
And I wait for the tide to come in
I know the tide never comes in Chicago
But that’s the kind of day that it’s been

I stare down the shore in Chicago
Towards the ramshackle haze in the south
Where the rust-covered pipes are a warning
Saying don’t drink or bathe in the shallow water
And the skyline is mercifully grim
And my dreams momentarily buried
And no matter how brutal my memories
I’m still glad I don’t live in Gary

And I throw all my cares to the breakwater
And I wait for the tide to come in
I know the tide never comes in Chicago
But that’s the kind of day that it’s been

It was Better When Romeo Said It

July 2006

Another song about Romeo, sort of. But hey, I feel literary lately. I’m proud of this one. I was able to break out of my normal patterns a lot. Credit goes to the Mountain Goats, as the lyric pattern feels a lot like some of their/his songs, and John Darnielle provide the mental vocals originally. I’ve tightened the rhyme scheme slightly and adjusted things to my voice, but the stress at the line endings, the free-flowing structure, I’m still very happy to have borrowed. anyway, I like it. It’s a love song with a tangent about witches.

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I told you, you were like the sun
But it was better when Romeo said it
He said it with conviction, like a fool
People were foolish in those days
When time was short and the hours were long
If you had nothing to go by
So they believed strange things
That the world was flat
And mice grew from old cheese
And witches always had black cats
Or white ones depending on who you believe

And Romeo he believed in Juliet
And Juliet she believed when Romeo said
She was bright and warm and beautiful
And kept the world from growing dark and cold
But of course they didn’t know
The whole world turned around her

People were foolish in those days
They saw meaning in every flock of birds
That circled in the sky
And every star that fell, fell for someone
And I only see meaning in subtle curves
And the circles in your eyes
And every time I fell, I fell for someone
Someone shining as the sun

But people are foolish in these days

Juliet is Gone

July 2006

First song of the – let’s call it the “Employment Era”. There are a ton of songs out there involving Romeo & Juliet, as I learned in a brief search, but I’m fairly sure that I haven’t done any direct stealing; It reminds me of too many songs to be just one of them (including, strangely, “Centerfold” – the mood’s not all that far off: negative surprises, as it were…). Vocal rhythm has a lot of Dylan, at least originally; it rocks a little harder now, solid electric riff in the chorus. And the song itself, right… Well, it’s not even an accurate retelling, though I’m fond of the second verse. Romeo plays the hopeless romantic, Juliet the unexplained elusive target, in some sort of unresolved tragic saga. No one to blame, no answers, heh. Well, once I start quoting myself it’s time to stop.

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A light through yonder window breaks but Juliet is gone
Poor Romeo is out on the highway staring at the sun
The story’s old and has been told in versions short and long
But that’s no help to Romeo who no longer belongs
To anyone but whispers only “Juliet is gone.”

[Chorus]
Juliet is gone! Oh, Juliet is gone!
And Romeo with eyes aflame hurls curses at the dawn
But there’s no one to blame…
And Juliet, she’d like to think she knew it all along
But there are never any answers
When true love comes out wrong

Romeo was half-awake when the preacher grabbed his arm
He said “boy, get out of here, they’ve raised the false alarm!”
So he capered through the cobweb streets and jumped the Wailing Wall
Till the memory of his Juliet made him forsake it all
And he walked right through the gate and said “You’ve gotten it all wrong!”
But his heart skipped and he froze his lips for Juliet was gone.

[Chorus]

Somewhere up on 49th, a candle burning low
And still nearby the tears are cried alas poor Romeo
He is waiting at the window, he’s standing in the hall
With his tattered coat and fragile hope that true love conquers all
But Romeo another day must sigh and soldier on
A picture frame by candle-light, but Juliet is gone

[Chorus]

A light through yonder window breaks but Juliet is gone
Poor Romeo is out on the highway staring at the sun
Perhaps someday he’ll find her, perhaps a welcome home
Poor Juliet we cannot judge, her reasons are her own
But even now the same refrain each time the tale is told
Alas the lady Juliet, alas poor Romeo

Moonrise

July 2006

Actual, non-songwriting poetry for once. Inspired by an event a long way back, it seems now, October of first year. On some vaguely organized late-night trip to the point, lying around looking at stars, and suddenly there’s this strange orange glow out on the lake, and it turned out to be moonrise, which I’d never seen in that fashion before. I’m not used to clear horizons. But in any case, it was absolutely gorgeous in the way that such things are. I ought to get out there again sometime, maybe check an almanac.

The moon rises, slowly and unintelligibly,
Over Lake Michigan,
A sliver of orange on the horizon,
A trail of light on the water,
Poseidon rising from the deep
With slow steps crowned in burnt gold

And we gasp, forgetting for a moment
That we shiver on cold stones in the darkness
And bask in the nothing-glow, the sky blossom,
Pale sister of the dawn, and yet

There are more glorious things than dawn
In the unlit spaces of the void
Cataclysms rage, stars ignite, and all dance
Together, all tied, all unbound, against each other,
To be mere sparks upon the heavens’ forge

And this,
A sliver of orange on the horizon, and
A trail of topaz light upon the water.

Memories

June 2006

Sometimes they come out of nowhere. This one wasn’t really about anything until I had to come up with the third verse. The first two just sort of popped into my head while I was trying to focus on my CompSci project. Ah, procrastination by inspiration.

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Bind it up in turquoise angles
Leave it on the mantel shelf
Call it fate or call it vision
Call it love or blind ambition
But it’s killing you and you don’t know why

Why try to make emptiness an altar?
Make a shadow on the ceiling into something more revealing
When you could just be living all along

But you roll it up in wrapping paper
Throw it in the wishing well
Call it fame or call it fortune
Call it hope or call it torture
But you have to feel a little to get by

Why try to make emptiness an altar?
Make it into something softer, when it’s awkward just as often
And you could just be getting it all wrong

If it’s wrong, you still believe it
If it’s right, you may not need it
If it’s easy, well you don’t know why
If it’s hard, well still it’s worth a try

So you dress it up in Technicolor
Seal in a picture frame
Call it sad or sentimental
Call it strictly ornamental
But it’s killing you and keeping you alive
And you don’t know why

American Teenage Turmoil

April 2006

This one’s drawn from a variety of sources, mostly related to the general madness around here. People are nuts, and yes that includes me. Anyway, it’s pretty straightforward power pop musically, but I’m happy because it got me off the folkiness in my head for a bit. The poet in me has great difficulty writing a pure chorus. Either too many good ideas, or none good enough to stand repetition, I don’t know. Enjoy.

Do you recall the way it all seemed wonderful?
Do you recall the tragedy the very next day?
And do you recall the way I called you beautiful?
And do you recall the way it all fades away?

Good old American Teenage Turmoil
If you don’t break through it breaks you down again
Good old American Teenage Turmoil
You’re living in sin till you’re 21, and then:

Do you recall the night we spent in the underbrush?
Do you recall that turnaround is always fair play?
And do you recall the way we laughed, just the two of us?
And do you recall the way it all fades away?

Good old American Teenage Turmoil
It’s funny that we make it through alive
Good old American Teenage Turmoil
You can’t understand, so you might as well survive.

Do you recall the things we swore in the summertime?
Do you recall the promises we never could say?
And do you recall that all we knew we could undermine?
And do you recall the way it all fades away?

Good old American Teenage Turmoil
Drop yourself a line to get in touch
Good old American Teenage Turmoil
You’re not yourself, or maybe just a little too much

Good old American Teenage Turmoil
If you don’t break through it breaks you down again
Good old American Teenage Turmoil
You’re living in sin till you’re 21, and then:

Good old American Twenty-something Turmoil…

Burning Bridges

December 2005

This is something I wrote fairly aimlessly, as poetry, although it has something of a song verse-chorus structure. Not that the chorus stays the same, but the “burning” sections stick together rhythmically more, and there’s an old Irish melody that fits them. Somehow the less melody I have when writing, the more I’m forced to carry things along with imagery, although with some work I suppose this could be a song. And what’s it about. Oh, I don’t know – journeys, collateral damage, things you do without reasons, and all that jazz. And it’s a little bit, just a little bit, about the Cuyahoga River…

Long, strange, into nowhere
With the mystery of Sanskrit on sandstone
And the air smells of gypsies and blood
Not that we look for them
But the blood keeps for centuries
On the blades of grass for the blades of steel

You’re burning your bridges before you
You’re burning your bridges with incense and myrrh
You’re burning Chicago for steel and glass
But Chicago was burning so long before you were

And a handful of glass beads on the windshield
Before you can wipe it away and you’re drowning
In crystal and chandelier bulbs
Not that we ask for them
But the crystals are products of centuries
Or it’s glass from this Wednesday that’s never been real

But you’re burning your bridges before you
Burning your bridges for tinder and shame
You’re burning down Cleveland for blue river water
But the river was flowing so long before you came

And those tornado spirals in deep river water
And hurricanes carved into deep forest maple
And you wipe it all off with a scarlet bandanna
With the dust and dandelions
Not that they grow here
But they blow in the wind over centuries
Just like we do

And we’re burning our bridges behind us
We’ve been burning our bridges to keep ourselves home
We’re burning a path to the deep ocean water
But the waves have been crashing since long before we came to roam.