Just pick up from where you left off...
Earlier this week I realized that my name might be googled if Leonard Cohen were to be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. There are several people in my history who probably think of me when they think of Mr. Cohen. I've been writing this posting in bits, so here it is, I'll keep this on top for a couple of weeks or so.
Here are some highlights of what you might have missed or forgotten:
1984 - 1985: Graduated from college and moved to New York City. Joined the Collegiate Chorale and performed with them for a couple of years.
1987: Moved to Buffalo. Joined the Buffalo Philharmonic Chorus (then called Buffalo Schola Cantorum).
1991: Left Schola.
1992? 1993?: Sang the National Anthem at Pilot Field (now called Dunn Tire Park) prior to a Buffalo Bisons baseball game. My memory is wobbly about which summer it was.
1992? 1993?: Tom and I recorded the Goo Goo Dolls song "Just The Way You Are" for a tribute album, not issued. We recorded two of our original songs in a studio. This connection led to me doing a 30-minute acoustic set at Nietzsche's. I'm wobbly on the year here too.
1994 - 1995: Recorded, packaged and gifted about 100 copies of "More Pencil Songs" my first (and as of this writing, the only) organized release of my music.
1995: Met Lisa.
1996: Married Lisa.
1999: Firstborn.
2003: Performed at open mic for the first time since college. Wrote first post-Pencil song. Soon after, secondborn.
2004: More local open mic performances. Performed at the 2004 Leonard Cohen Event open mic in New York City. Wrote a song with Jack Logan.
2005: Wrote "Church Street". Took a break from local performing for parenting. Performed at live band karaoke in Boston and promised myself I would look for a band in 2006.
2006: Joined "Just Plain Folks" Buffalo Chapter, began writing much more. Answered "looking for vocalist" classified ads. Jammed a few times. Played open mics occasionally.
2007: One of the new contacts led to being the frontman for "The Screaming Pineapples". Played out nine times with the band. Continued with Just Plain Folks, and was asked to serve as Chapter Coordinator. Continued with writing and occasional open mics. Recorded a Jack Logan song that Jack put up on his myspace page for a week.
Want to hear something of mine? I expect you want to hear my voice, but the originals aren't ready yet. I suggest adding this site to your "favorites" and checking back every now and again, there may be original songs, not just lyrics, the next time you look.
If/when you feel so inclined, send me an email. I've apologized a thousand times over, you just couldn't hear it. I can be reached at:
jkloberdanz@gmail.com
Yes, I meant that for you. Really, I did. The only reason I haven't contacted you is that you don't have a blog where you told me it would be ok. You could call too.
Be well.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Congratulations - Leonard Cohen
It was announced today that Leonard Cohen has been named to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame...
CONGRATULATIONS TO MR. COHEN!
"Everybody knows that the dice are loaded,
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed.
Everybody knows that the war is over,
Everybody knows the good guys lost."
Well, not this time.
CONGRATULATIONS TO MR. COHEN!
"Everybody knows that the dice are loaded,
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed.
Everybody knows that the war is over,
Everybody knows the good guys lost."
Well, not this time.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
(Not A) Hoochie Coochie Man
Ain't never been a Hoochie Coochie Man
Ain't never been a good liar.
Ain't never been able to run around
Or fill more than one woman's desire.
If you think that I'm the man for you
Well, honey, you got it all wrong.
I could easily seal my fate
So I just stay where I
Where I
Where I belong.
I'm not a Hoochie Coochie Man.
(Musical Break)
Ain't never been a Hoochie Coochie Man
There's only one woman for me
I've lost my hair, I can't see too well,
I started turning old back in 1973.
If you're thinking that we could have fun
Our fun can only go so far
By the time we start, I'll be done
'Cause I wasn't born
Oh, I wasn't born
I wasn't born under that dirty star
I'm not a Hoochie Coochie Man
(Second Musical Break)
Ain't never been a Hoochie Coochie Man
Ain't never been a good liar
Ain't never been able to run around
Or fill more than one woman's desire
And she's my woman
I'm not a Hoochie Coochie Man
Commentary
Nothing to say. Sometimes it's ok to just have fun with it.
Ain't never been a good liar.
Ain't never been able to run around
Or fill more than one woman's desire.
If you think that I'm the man for you
Well, honey, you got it all wrong.
I could easily seal my fate
So I just stay where I
Where I
Where I belong.
I'm not a Hoochie Coochie Man.
(Musical Break)
Ain't never been a Hoochie Coochie Man
There's only one woman for me
I've lost my hair, I can't see too well,
I started turning old back in 1973.
If you're thinking that we could have fun
Our fun can only go so far
By the time we start, I'll be done
'Cause I wasn't born
Oh, I wasn't born
I wasn't born under that dirty star
I'm not a Hoochie Coochie Man
(Second Musical Break)
Ain't never been a Hoochie Coochie Man
Ain't never been a good liar
Ain't never been able to run around
Or fill more than one woman's desire
And she's my woman
I'm not a Hoochie Coochie Man
Commentary
Nothing to say. Sometimes it's ok to just have fun with it.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Song For Jonas
I want to live like a bird in the air
Like the wind running through her wings
Free as the sky, free as the clouds
Not to think about anything
Glide through the days, and pass through the time
And forget what to do, and forget what to sing
I want to live like a bird in the air
Like the wind running through her wings.
I want to be like the tree in my yard
Live each day like the only one
Strong are the roots that dig through the ground
Branches shading the morning sun
Casting across as you drift through the days
Days that will end when the days are done
I want to live like the tree in my yard
Live each day as the only one
I want to hold you close in my arms
And forget everything I see.
I want to watch as you close your eyes
Because you know that you're safe with me
If I could hold our time in my hand
I wouldn't know what to do, I wouldn't know where I should be
I want to hold you close in my arms
And forget everything I see.
I want to live like a bird in the air
Like the wind running through her wings
Free as the sky, free as the clouds
Not to think about anything
Glide through the days, and pass through the time
And forget what to do, and forget what to sing
I want to live like a bird in the air
Like the wind running through her wings
Commentary
Ok, now I'm setting records here.
I wrote the first two verses in 1993, and for many years I didn't consider it done because I felt there should be a third verse. But I couldn't think of another analogy. It was for that reason that I didn't put it on my mid-90's compilation tape, "More Pencil Songs". I would play the song occasionally, but never got over the feeling that it wasn't really "done".
This afternoon I realized that the reason I didn't have a third analogy is because I was never going to have one, that what the song lacked was a reason for being written.
What follows is the story of how this song became known as "Song For Jonas":
In the summer of 1994 I took a boat over the English Channel to Belgium, and kept my guitar out of the ship's storage so I could play for people. I was playing for a group of people and I was asked to play one of my own songs, so I played this one. It was the first time I had played it for anyone, and it went over well.
A young man (probably about 18) named Jonas asked me if I was a "published songwriter". To this day I wonder how he knew the perfect question to ask. I said "no", he said "you should be". What a compliment!
Jonas was on his way back home with his cello after performing with an orchestra in England. After we docked, he had a few hours before his train, I could leave anytime since my train left every hour, so I asked if he wanted to get something to eat. I seem to think he was going to Studtgart, but I could be remembering that incorrectly. "I would," he said, "but I have no Belgian money". I said, "It's OK, my treat" and we went to a McDonald's in the town square (I forget the name of the town). We sat and had Big Macs and he talked and talked, and I listened. He would bring up a topic and ask me a question, I would answer and he would talk excitedly about his opinion. Jonas was delightful. Rarely have I ever been with someone who was so excited and happy to just be in my company.
Afterward we went to the train station, it was about half an hour before his train and one I could take was about to leave. I looked at Jonas to say goodbye, and he was crying. We exchanged addresses (I have his full name and address somewhere, of course the address is from 1994 but I hope that someday I can send him a link to this story), I told him we would see each other again someday even though I knew that probably wouldn't be true. We hugged and I kissed him on the cheek, and left.
Several years later I resurrected this song, it still didn't have a name. I knew the perfect name. Thank you Jonas for the happy memory and the song.
Like the wind running through her wings
Free as the sky, free as the clouds
Not to think about anything
Glide through the days, and pass through the time
And forget what to do, and forget what to sing
I want to live like a bird in the air
Like the wind running through her wings.
I want to be like the tree in my yard
Live each day like the only one
Strong are the roots that dig through the ground
Branches shading the morning sun
Casting across as you drift through the days
Days that will end when the days are done
I want to live like the tree in my yard
Live each day as the only one
I want to hold you close in my arms
And forget everything I see.
I want to watch as you close your eyes
Because you know that you're safe with me
If I could hold our time in my hand
I wouldn't know what to do, I wouldn't know where I should be
I want to hold you close in my arms
And forget everything I see.
I want to live like a bird in the air
Like the wind running through her wings
Free as the sky, free as the clouds
Not to think about anything
Glide through the days, and pass through the time
And forget what to do, and forget what to sing
I want to live like a bird in the air
Like the wind running through her wings
Commentary
Ok, now I'm setting records here.
I wrote the first two verses in 1993, and for many years I didn't consider it done because I felt there should be a third verse. But I couldn't think of another analogy. It was for that reason that I didn't put it on my mid-90's compilation tape, "More Pencil Songs". I would play the song occasionally, but never got over the feeling that it wasn't really "done".
This afternoon I realized that the reason I didn't have a third analogy is because I was never going to have one, that what the song lacked was a reason for being written.
What follows is the story of how this song became known as "Song For Jonas":
In the summer of 1994 I took a boat over the English Channel to Belgium, and kept my guitar out of the ship's storage so I could play for people. I was playing for a group of people and I was asked to play one of my own songs, so I played this one. It was the first time I had played it for anyone, and it went over well.
A young man (probably about 18) named Jonas asked me if I was a "published songwriter". To this day I wonder how he knew the perfect question to ask. I said "no", he said "you should be". What a compliment!
Jonas was on his way back home with his cello after performing with an orchestra in England. After we docked, he had a few hours before his train, I could leave anytime since my train left every hour, so I asked if he wanted to get something to eat. I seem to think he was going to Studtgart, but I could be remembering that incorrectly. "I would," he said, "but I have no Belgian money". I said, "It's OK, my treat" and we went to a McDonald's in the town square (I forget the name of the town). We sat and had Big Macs and he talked and talked, and I listened. He would bring up a topic and ask me a question, I would answer and he would talk excitedly about his opinion. Jonas was delightful. Rarely have I ever been with someone who was so excited and happy to just be in my company.
Afterward we went to the train station, it was about half an hour before his train and one I could take was about to leave. I looked at Jonas to say goodbye, and he was crying. We exchanged addresses (I have his full name and address somewhere, of course the address is from 1994 but I hope that someday I can send him a link to this story), I told him we would see each other again someday even though I knew that probably wouldn't be true. We hugged and I kissed him on the cheek, and left.
Several years later I resurrected this song, it still didn't have a name. I knew the perfect name. Thank you Jonas for the happy memory and the song.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Just Like Everyone Else
Sugar, spice and life
The things that I gave to you
But they weren't what you needed
And now I do the best I can do
Special presents under Christmas trees
Giant happy birthday cakes
But we have the same faces that we had that day
And the clouds never seem to break
There's a hole in our family, and I can't make it then
I can't turn the clock back so you can live your life again
She looks just like everyone else
If you stand too close
She is just like most of us
Just like everyone else
When her thoughts are far
She can't see you, or where you are
Love is hard to describe
Apart from holding you close
When I think of things that have happened
I think that's when I love you most
I can't imagine seeing out of your eyes
I can't imagine living, having heard all of his lies.
She looks just like everyone else
If you stand too close
She is just like most of us
Just like everyone else
When her thoughts are far
She can't see you, or where you are
(musical break)
They say pain will heal with time
But there are some things that can take more than a lifetime
She looks just like everyone else
If you stand too close
She is just like most of us
Just like everyone else
When her thoughts are far
She can't see you, or where you are
Commentary
Here's another one I've been singing to myself for a long time. The melody and the words in the refrain first came to me around the time I wrote "It Is Today" last year, but I didn't have a grip on all of the melody. I've picked this one up at least a dozen times since then, I think this is almost done now.
The things that I gave to you
But they weren't what you needed
And now I do the best I can do
Special presents under Christmas trees
Giant happy birthday cakes
But we have the same faces that we had that day
And the clouds never seem to break
There's a hole in our family, and I can't make it then
I can't turn the clock back so you can live your life again
She looks just like everyone else
If you stand too close
She is just like most of us
Just like everyone else
When her thoughts are far
She can't see you, or where you are
Love is hard to describe
Apart from holding you close
When I think of things that have happened
I think that's when I love you most
I can't imagine seeing out of your eyes
I can't imagine living, having heard all of his lies.
She looks just like everyone else
If you stand too close
She is just like most of us
Just like everyone else
When her thoughts are far
She can't see you, or where you are
(musical break)
They say pain will heal with time
But there are some things that can take more than a lifetime
She looks just like everyone else
If you stand too close
She is just like most of us
Just like everyone else
When her thoughts are far
She can't see you, or where you are
Commentary
Here's another one I've been singing to myself for a long time. The melody and the words in the refrain first came to me around the time I wrote "It Is Today" last year, but I didn't have a grip on all of the melody. I've picked this one up at least a dozen times since then, I think this is almost done now.
Friday, November 23, 2007
What's New?
This is my musical lyrics blog. Sometimes I post with other thoughts or random writings. Everything I write is a work of fiction unless otherwise mentioned.
I sometimes perform my original work at Western New York open mics, and last month I became the Chapter Coordinator for the Buffalo/Niagara Chapter of the Just Plain Folks. Check them out at:
http://www.jpfolks.com/
I'll probably have some of my demos posted before the end of the year, and I'll post a link to myspace or whatever else is free or cheap when I do.
I'm also the lead singer in "The Screaming Pineapples", a local classic rock band.
Santa is going to get me a webcam/microphone for Christmas, so at some point after I'll be posting a few other things at youtube like Leonard Cohen, Jack Logan, or originals. I dunno yet.
I successfully met two of my four musical goals for the year, which is tremendous considering that most years I meet none of my musical goals. I hope to complete the remaining two goals in 2008.
Yesterday I had the most thankful Thanksgiving of my life.
I sometimes perform my original work at Western New York open mics, and last month I became the Chapter Coordinator for the Buffalo/Niagara Chapter of the Just Plain Folks. Check them out at:
http://www.jpfolks.com/
I'll probably have some of my demos posted before the end of the year, and I'll post a link to myspace or whatever else is free or cheap when I do.
I'm also the lead singer in "The Screaming Pineapples", a local classic rock band.
Santa is going to get me a webcam/microphone for Christmas, so at some point after I'll be posting a few other things at youtube like Leonard Cohen, Jack Logan, or originals. I dunno yet.
I successfully met two of my four musical goals for the year, which is tremendous considering that most years I meet none of my musical goals. I hope to complete the remaining two goals in 2008.
Yesterday I had the most thankful Thanksgiving of my life.
Supposed To Forget
I can't look into the mirror
When I think about myself
I feel ashamed
Past tendencies, past sadness's
Don't compare to where I am
No matter who's to blame
I reached into my pocket
I looked into a hole
Your heart before you locked it
Your face without a soul
I remembered that I was supposed to forget
How good I felt when we first met
When we would laugh and smile in those days before
I remembered that I was supposed to forget
How bad I felt when you left
And the look on your face when you walked out the door
Things I wish I could forget before.
The afternoon turns into winter
I look out of the window
And see your face.
The cold night air no longer hides
The sadness that I feel
The things I can't replace
Messages forgotten
Simple things were lost
Places you had not been
Lines we had not crossed
I remembered that I was supposed to forget
How good I felt when we first met
When we would laugh and smile in those days before
I remembered that I was supposed to forget
How bad I felt when you left
And the look on your face when you walked out the door
Things I wish I could forget before.
Commentary
Today I was at the Wegman's supermarket (side note: the day after Thanksgiving is a great day to go food shopping) and I had once again forgotten my cloth bags. I mentioned it to the cashier, and she told me that her mother tries to purposefully not bring them because she uses the plastic bags for garbage and often runs out of them. She told me that her mother is always trying to remember to forget her bags.
When I think about myself
I feel ashamed
Past tendencies, past sadness's
Don't compare to where I am
No matter who's to blame
I reached into my pocket
I looked into a hole
Your heart before you locked it
Your face without a soul
I remembered that I was supposed to forget
How good I felt when we first met
When we would laugh and smile in those days before
I remembered that I was supposed to forget
How bad I felt when you left
And the look on your face when you walked out the door
Things I wish I could forget before.
The afternoon turns into winter
I look out of the window
And see your face.
The cold night air no longer hides
The sadness that I feel
The things I can't replace
Messages forgotten
Simple things were lost
Places you had not been
Lines we had not crossed
I remembered that I was supposed to forget
How good I felt when we first met
When we would laugh and smile in those days before
I remembered that I was supposed to forget
How bad I felt when you left
And the look on your face when you walked out the door
Things I wish I could forget before.
Commentary
Today I was at the Wegman's supermarket (side note: the day after Thanksgiving is a great day to go food shopping) and I had once again forgotten my cloth bags. I mentioned it to the cashier, and she told me that her mother tries to purposefully not bring them because she uses the plastic bags for garbage and often runs out of them. She told me that her mother is always trying to remember to forget her bags.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
I Wouldn't Die For You
I wouldn't jump off of a bridge
If you were drowning in a canyon.
I wouldn't pick a fight
With a biker from Montana
I wouldn't stop cannibals
From cooking you into a stew
What I'm trying to say is
I wouldn't die for you.
I wouldn't step in between
If you were shooting in a duel
If you'd broken the chef's heart
I wouldn't volunteer to taste your food
If a giant dog had you by the throat
I'd be so nervous I'd dial "9-2-2"
What I'm trying to say is
I wouldn't die for you.
I feel selfish, I feel cruel
But I love you just the same
It's just my sense of self-preservation
And "chicken" is my middle name.
Don't think I'd hurry over
If fire ripped through your street
The flames might burn my skin
If I don't faint from the heat
It's not that I don't love you
It's just that I love me too
What I'm trying to say is
I wouldn't die for you.
Commentary
I originally wrote this song in the summer of 1989, or maybe it was 1990, I don't recall. Some of the words I remembered, some I forgot and rewrote.
It was a joke. It didn't work. Consider this a cleansing.
Were you there?
Raspberry (blogspot doesn't have emoticons)
If you were drowning in a canyon.
I wouldn't pick a fight
With a biker from Montana
I wouldn't stop cannibals
From cooking you into a stew
What I'm trying to say is
I wouldn't die for you.
I wouldn't step in between
If you were shooting in a duel
If you'd broken the chef's heart
I wouldn't volunteer to taste your food
If a giant dog had you by the throat
I'd be so nervous I'd dial "9-2-2"
What I'm trying to say is
I wouldn't die for you.
I feel selfish, I feel cruel
But I love you just the same
It's just my sense of self-preservation
And "chicken" is my middle name.
Don't think I'd hurry over
If fire ripped through your street
The flames might burn my skin
If I don't faint from the heat
It's not that I don't love you
It's just that I love me too
What I'm trying to say is
I wouldn't die for you.
Commentary
I originally wrote this song in the summer of 1989, or maybe it was 1990, I don't recall. Some of the words I remembered, some I forgot and rewrote.
It was a joke. It didn't work. Consider this a cleansing.
Were you there?
Raspberry (blogspot doesn't have emoticons)
Saturday, November 17, 2007
The Dog
This morning I was thinking about things, and somehow I was reminded of this 25 year old story. I haven't thought of it in quite some time.
I was walking down a quiet section of Bailey Avenue here in Buffalo, it was the early afternoon. I was on the west side of the street headed south, and although this was a quiet area, Bailey is a major road in Buffalo so there was still the occasional car or two. From down the block, on the east sidewalk, I saw two large dogs coming in my direction; they were running and playing together as they came closer.
I wouldn't have been watching quite so closely except that I don't particularly like large and excited dogs who might choose to cross the street and attack me. So I was watching them very closely as the three of us came closer. The two dogs were happy and playful.
Just as we were nearly across from each other, one of the dogs, for no apparent reason, darted into the street. The dog slammed headfirst into the side of a car going in his same direction, there was no way for the driver to avoid it. Death was likely instantaneous as the impact was quite hard.
The other dog was still on the sidewalk; he stopped and looked in shock, as did I on the other side. He looked at his now-dead friend laying in the street, then looked up and saw me looking as well. Then he lowered his head and slowly, sadly, continued down the sidewalk in the direction he had been going. I continued on my way, in the opposite direction.
I was walking down a quiet section of Bailey Avenue here in Buffalo, it was the early afternoon. I was on the west side of the street headed south, and although this was a quiet area, Bailey is a major road in Buffalo so there was still the occasional car or two. From down the block, on the east sidewalk, I saw two large dogs coming in my direction; they were running and playing together as they came closer.
I wouldn't have been watching quite so closely except that I don't particularly like large and excited dogs who might choose to cross the street and attack me. So I was watching them very closely as the three of us came closer. The two dogs were happy and playful.
Just as we were nearly across from each other, one of the dogs, for no apparent reason, darted into the street. The dog slammed headfirst into the side of a car going in his same direction, there was no way for the driver to avoid it. Death was likely instantaneous as the impact was quite hard.
The other dog was still on the sidewalk; he stopped and looked in shock, as did I on the other side. He looked at his now-dead friend laying in the street, then looked up and saw me looking as well. Then he lowered his head and slowly, sadly, continued down the sidewalk in the direction he had been going. I continued on my way, in the opposite direction.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Spilled Milk
I love the sound of music
As it echoes off the wall
Being in front of the sound
Is the best feeling of them all.
I get a rush from hearing you all
As I listen to myself
What I picture as I drive
Comes true 'cause I'm not sitting on the shelf
But arguments make me feel like I'm married over twice
I could double down on sixteen, or I can get up and go roll the dice.
I'm too old to feel sad
Over burned, spilled milk
I'm too old to feel bad
And I'm too young to just sit still
We turned corner bars into music halls
And concrete floors into stadiums
We turned the sound up to eleven
Girls danced like at the Palladium
Our listing in the local paper
Might as well have been the Times to me
Our video on youtube
Might as well have been on the MTV
Take the speaker off the stand and take the flyer off the wall
Smile when you hear a song that we played, and that is all.
I'm too old to feel sad
Over burned, spilled milk
I'm too old to feel bad
And I'm too young to just sit still.
As it echoes off the wall
Being in front of the sound
Is the best feeling of them all.
I get a rush from hearing you all
As I listen to myself
What I picture as I drive
Comes true 'cause I'm not sitting on the shelf
But arguments make me feel like I'm married over twice
I could double down on sixteen, or I can get up and go roll the dice.
I'm too old to feel sad
Over burned, spilled milk
I'm too old to feel bad
And I'm too young to just sit still
We turned corner bars into music halls
And concrete floors into stadiums
We turned the sound up to eleven
Girls danced like at the Palladium
Our listing in the local paper
Might as well have been the Times to me
Our video on youtube
Might as well have been on the MTV
Take the speaker off the stand and take the flyer off the wall
Smile when you hear a song that we played, and that is all.
I'm too old to feel sad
Over burned, spilled milk
I'm too old to feel bad
And I'm too young to just sit still.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Who We Are
I spoke to you
But you didn't listen.
I tried to look into your eyes
But couldn't see past the glisten.
Twenty-three years didn't change a thing
Twenty-three years didn't change anything
We are who we are
We, from me and you
We are who we are
You do whatever it is,
Whatever it is that you do.
I laughed 'cause I was nervous
And I glanced down
Have I seen those pants before?
How could they still be around?
Twenty-three years and you still wear the same size
Didn't you eat fries or pies or Thai that added something to your thighs?
We are who we are
We, from me and you
We are who we are
You do whatever it is,
Whatever it is that you do.
The train pulled up to my right
I tried to say goodbye
But you were still talking, not looking
Hand on shoulder, head shake, sigh
Twenty-three years, rain and snow, clouds and sun
Twenty-three years, marriage, divorce, daughter, son
We are who we are
We, from me and you
We are who we are
You do whatever it is,
Whatever it is that you do.
But you didn't listen.
I tried to look into your eyes
But couldn't see past the glisten.
Twenty-three years didn't change a thing
Twenty-three years didn't change anything
We are who we are
We, from me and you
We are who we are
You do whatever it is,
Whatever it is that you do.
I laughed 'cause I was nervous
And I glanced down
Have I seen those pants before?
How could they still be around?
Twenty-three years and you still wear the same size
Didn't you eat fries or pies or Thai that added something to your thighs?
We are who we are
We, from me and you
We are who we are
You do whatever it is,
Whatever it is that you do.
The train pulled up to my right
I tried to say goodbye
But you were still talking, not looking
Hand on shoulder, head shake, sigh
Twenty-three years, rain and snow, clouds and sun
Twenty-three years, marriage, divorce, daughter, son
We are who we are
We, from me and you
We are who we are
You do whatever it is,
Whatever it is that you do.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
John K. does Jack Logan on MySpace!
It's not Screaming Pineapples, it's not original music, but it's John K. on the Internet!
I recorded "Teach Me The Rules" by indie Lo-Fi rock legend Jack Logan, and he's posted it on his MySpace page. Jack is incredibly prolific, and his first two albums got four star reviews in Rolling Stone. We first met when he was in town about 10 years ago.
The volume may be a bit low (it seemed ok when I sent it to him), so if that seems suspect just turn up your speakers. It's only going to be there for a bit (he's never kept stuff up more than a couple of weeks), check it out!
http://www.myspace.com/jacklogan
I also highly recommend you check out Jack's CD's if you're so inclined, he usually just posts noodling and random bits on MySpace, but his formal releases, especially "Bulk", "Mood Elevator" and "Little Private Angel" are among my favorite CD's.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
It Is Today
The sky is dark, the engine loud,
I hear it outside the door.
My clothes are on the chair
It must be today.
It is today. It is today.
I thought things would stay the same,
I thought things would be alright,
I thought we'd stay here.
In the backseat, can I brush my hair?
What about my toys? What about my things?
What about my dad?
Lay down, don't say a word
Crying, no goodbye
Driving away. Driving away.
I thought things would stay the same,
I thought things would be alright,
I thought we'd stay here.
Where are we going? Who are you?
What did I do?
I know I can be better,
You won't even know I'm here.
I'll sit quietly. I'll sit quietly.
I thought things would stay the same,
I thought things would be alright,
I thought we'd stay here.
I thought things would stay the same,
I thought things would be alright,
I thought we'd stay here.
Commentary
I forgot about this one. I originally wrote these words last year, edited them and put them to music earlier this year. The music is intense and rises to a crescendo in the "I thought things would stay the same" refrain. Everyone who has heard it has commented that it is too depressing so I put it aside. I think I'm going to pick it up again though.
This is a true story, although not my true story.
I hear it outside the door.
My clothes are on the chair
It must be today.
It is today. It is today.
I thought things would stay the same,
I thought things would be alright,
I thought we'd stay here.
In the backseat, can I brush my hair?
What about my toys? What about my things?
What about my dad?
Lay down, don't say a word
Crying, no goodbye
Driving away. Driving away.
I thought things would stay the same,
I thought things would be alright,
I thought we'd stay here.
Where are we going? Who are you?
What did I do?
I know I can be better,
You won't even know I'm here.
I'll sit quietly. I'll sit quietly.
I thought things would stay the same,
I thought things would be alright,
I thought we'd stay here.
I thought things would stay the same,
I thought things would be alright,
I thought we'd stay here.
Commentary
I forgot about this one. I originally wrote these words last year, edited them and put them to music earlier this year. The music is intense and rises to a crescendo in the "I thought things would stay the same" refrain. Everyone who has heard it has commented that it is too depressing so I put it aside. I think I'm going to pick it up again though.
This is a true story, although not my true story.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Parasympathetic
V1:
I don't think
I just feel
Like a blink
Or how I'm hungry for my next meal.
V2:
Like air
It's my breath
I will dare
Every time I live the days that I'm left
Bridge:
It's what you'll find if you look in my soul
It's what keeps me here and makes me ready to go
Refrain:
Rock & Roll is parasympathetic to me
Rock & Roll is what I believe
If you don't understand it, you're pathetic
Rock & Roll is parasympathetic to me.
Guitar solo
Repeat 2nd verse
Repeat bridge
Repeat refrain
Commentary
Today in a meeting the word "parasympathetic" was used. Look it up if you don't remember it from high school. For this one I hear Nils Lofgren circa 1975 in my head singing the melody (he's still great but I'm thinking "Back It Up" and "Keith Don't Go" and stuff like that).
I don't think
I just feel
Like a blink
Or how I'm hungry for my next meal.
V2:
Like air
It's my breath
I will dare
Every time I live the days that I'm left
Bridge:
It's what you'll find if you look in my soul
It's what keeps me here and makes me ready to go
Refrain:
Rock & Roll is parasympathetic to me
Rock & Roll is what I believe
If you don't understand it, you're pathetic
Rock & Roll is parasympathetic to me.
Guitar solo
Repeat 2nd verse
Repeat bridge
Repeat refrain
Commentary
Today in a meeting the word "parasympathetic" was used. Look it up if you don't remember it from high school. For this one I hear Nils Lofgren circa 1975 in my head singing the melody (he's still great but I'm thinking "Back It Up" and "Keith Don't Go" and stuff like that).
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Black and White Sunset
Anybody wanna help me finish this song? About 15 years ago I thought of the title and wrote the melody line and refrain but I've been stuck ever since. If you have any ideas please email them to jkloberdanz@gmail.com
Here's what I've got so far:
What kind of shadow
Does a black and white sunset
Cause me to cast over you?
If I stand up and you sit down
I hold my arms over the ground
And cover everything you do.
Nothing but the grey comes shining through.
Everything else sounds silly...HELP!!
Here's what I've got so far:
What kind of shadow
Does a black and white sunset
Cause me to cast over you?
If I stand up and you sit down
I hold my arms over the ground
And cover everything you do.
Nothing but the grey comes shining through.
Everything else sounds silly...HELP!!
Monday, October 29, 2007
You Should Drive
Why be jealous?
There's nothing to it at all.
I'm just having a little bit of harmless fun at the party.
Why be angry?
It's not like I like her much at all.
I'm just feeling relaxed by all the drinks at the party.
Time to go home, perhaps you should drive this time.
Time to go home, I won't be looking for anything tonight.
Smile, remember
Yelling won't solve anything
You're just angry because I need you to drive, again.
Smile, remember
I'm laughing at everything
Because I'm feeling too relaxed, you have to drive, again
Time to go home, I know you should drive this time
Time to go home, I'll stay on my side, tonight.
Time to go home, the TV will be my friend this time
Time to go home, the TV will stay up while I sleep tonight.
Commentary
Back in May I admitted that "Let Me Be Bad" was written as I heard Leonard Cohen singing the melody line in my head. This one is Jack Logan. Not much else to say, this one is pretty straightforward. Although it's a new song it's not a recent experience.
There's nothing to it at all.
I'm just having a little bit of harmless fun at the party.
Why be angry?
It's not like I like her much at all.
I'm just feeling relaxed by all the drinks at the party.
Time to go home, perhaps you should drive this time.
Time to go home, I won't be looking for anything tonight.
Smile, remember
Yelling won't solve anything
You're just angry because I need you to drive, again.
Smile, remember
I'm laughing at everything
Because I'm feeling too relaxed, you have to drive, again
Time to go home, I know you should drive this time
Time to go home, I'll stay on my side, tonight.
Time to go home, the TV will be my friend this time
Time to go home, the TV will stay up while I sleep tonight.
Commentary
Back in May I admitted that "Let Me Be Bad" was written as I heard Leonard Cohen singing the melody line in my head. This one is Jack Logan. Not much else to say, this one is pretty straightforward. Although it's a new song it's not a recent experience.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Before I'm Dead
Sunlight doesn't shine through a solid wall
And I can’t wait forever for you to call.
There’s a feeling that I’m feeling that I can’t explain
I woke up this morning, nothing feels the same
It’s time to start walking and get out of my bed
Time to start living before I’m dead.
A movie on a screen or a show on a stage
People talking in a crowd, I just disengage
I sit in front of everyone and close my eyes
Wishing that good mornings were my goodbyes
The light is green, but it will change to red
Time to start living before I’m dead.
1:00, 2:00, 3:00, 4
Say goodbye and head for the door
In my mind I hear the music that is just for me
I close my eyes and there’s a light that I can see
Time to hit the road and stop hitting my head
Time to start living before I’m dead.
Every little thing is gonna be alright
Every little thing is gonna be alright
Every little thing is gonna be alright
Every little thing is gonna be alright
Time to hit the road and stop hitting my head
Time to start living before I’m dead.
I'm tired of myself, and all the things I’ve said
Time to start living before I’m dead.
Commentary
The Screaming Pineapples need a bluesy rocking sort of song, so I wrote this one last week. As of this writing none of the guys have heard it since it's been a few weeks since our last rehearsal.
And I can’t wait forever for you to call.
There’s a feeling that I’m feeling that I can’t explain
I woke up this morning, nothing feels the same
It’s time to start walking and get out of my bed
Time to start living before I’m dead.
A movie on a screen or a show on a stage
People talking in a crowd, I just disengage
I sit in front of everyone and close my eyes
Wishing that good mornings were my goodbyes
The light is green, but it will change to red
Time to start living before I’m dead.
1:00, 2:00, 3:00, 4
Say goodbye and head for the door
In my mind I hear the music that is just for me
I close my eyes and there’s a light that I can see
Time to hit the road and stop hitting my head
Time to start living before I’m dead.
Every little thing is gonna be alright
Every little thing is gonna be alright
Every little thing is gonna be alright
Every little thing is gonna be alright
Time to hit the road and stop hitting my head
Time to start living before I’m dead.
I'm tired of myself, and all the things I’ve said
Time to start living before I’m dead.
Commentary
The Screaming Pineapples need a bluesy rocking sort of song, so I wrote this one last week. As of this writing none of the guys have heard it since it's been a few weeks since our last rehearsal.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Margaret And Her Sister Peggy
They didn’t look too much alike,
They didn’t talk at all the same
They didn’t share much of anything
Except their first and their last name.
Does it take imagination?
Was there something going on?
When was it that everything went wrong?
Break – pattern 1
I never knew if they were smiling
Out of truth or out of fear.
Any day had to be more than here.
Maybe it just wasn’t right
Or maybe they just weren’t ready
Maybe there’s another life
For Margaret and her sister Peggy
Break – pattern 2
I’ve forgotten most of what I knew
But the picture in my mind remains
Hallways, classrooms and park benches
Tears and screams, concern and pain.
We were all very young
But I thought that I was old
Ages are out of our control.
Maybe it just wasn’t right
Or maybe they just weren’t ready
Maybe there’s another life
For Margaret and her sister Peggy
Break – pattern 2
Break – pattern 1
Saw them at the supermarket
Walking down different aisles
Didn’t know if I should hide or smile.
I fell into a comfortable chair
I pictured things both far and near
I wondered what had happened after
After all, I’ve no idea.
After all, I’ve no idea
After all, I’ve no real idea.
Commentary
After having nothing but the melody and the line "Margaret and her sister Peggy" singing in my head for the last 15 years, this song wrote itself this week.
I don't expect Margaret, or her sister (yes, her sister's name is Peggy) to actually see this blog or this post. Just in case I want to say that this is not actually about them. I'm not sure it's about much of anything, come to think about it, it's only about the idea that there were two sisters. Margaret and Peggy.
They didn’t talk at all the same
They didn’t share much of anything
Except their first and their last name.
Does it take imagination?
Was there something going on?
When was it that everything went wrong?
Break – pattern 1
I never knew if they were smiling
Out of truth or out of fear.
Any day had to be more than here.
Maybe it just wasn’t right
Or maybe they just weren’t ready
Maybe there’s another life
For Margaret and her sister Peggy
Break – pattern 2
I’ve forgotten most of what I knew
But the picture in my mind remains
Hallways, classrooms and park benches
Tears and screams, concern and pain.
We were all very young
But I thought that I was old
Ages are out of our control.
Maybe it just wasn’t right
Or maybe they just weren’t ready
Maybe there’s another life
For Margaret and her sister Peggy
Break – pattern 2
Break – pattern 1
Saw them at the supermarket
Walking down different aisles
Didn’t know if I should hide or smile.
I fell into a comfortable chair
I pictured things both far and near
I wondered what had happened after
After all, I’ve no idea.
After all, I’ve no idea
After all, I’ve no real idea.
Commentary
After having nothing but the melody and the line "Margaret and her sister Peggy" singing in my head for the last 15 years, this song wrote itself this week.
I don't expect Margaret, or her sister (yes, her sister's name is Peggy) to actually see this blog or this post. Just in case I want to say that this is not actually about them. I'm not sure it's about much of anything, come to think about it, it's only about the idea that there were two sisters. Margaret and Peggy.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Relaunch Scheduled For Tomorrow!
I've got my energy back around the blog, so if you see this watch for the relaunch!
Yes, you'll see that I edited the heck out of the old blog, but that's part of the relaunch. It's my blog, y'know!
Just to wet your appetite, here's a link, enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=jkloberdanz
Yes, you'll see that I edited the heck out of the old blog, but that's part of the relaunch. It's my blog, y'know!
Just to wet your appetite, here's a link, enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=jkloberdanz
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Let Me Be Bad
I've been tempted, again,
To do things I shouldn't even be thinking of.
My minds been wandering, day dreaming,
Distracted by feelings that pretend to be love.
I know you're trusting me to be faithful
I'm being trusted more than I ever had
Oh baby, let me go, let me be bad.
Ah most women, they don't want me
That's ok, I'm past that phase of my life
But there's a woman, this one woman
If I close my eyes I may recall I already have a wife.
I know you're trusting me to be faithful
I promised to God, I know I had
And I got to keep holding on, but I want to be bad.
Older's not necessarily wiser
It's just a commonly held myth.
I'm not so old that I can't remember
What can happen when inhibitions shift
Let's figure out another way
So I don't carry this face of shame
When I look at you in the morning
I want to smile and see your smile just the same.
Instead of getting angry 'cause I'm human
Reward me for staying strong.
Let's get a babysitter, let's light some candles.
Let's make something right since I've done nothing wrong.
We can make a game out of my desire
It could be the best night that we've ever had
We could turn bad into our good, let me be bad.
Let's play doctor, let's play college, let me be bad.
Let's play dress-up, let's play heaven, let me be bad.
Let's play twister, let's play blind date, let me be bad.
Commentary
I wrote this song earlier this year, and the lyrics are among the favorites of mine. It started with the first line which I thought said so much in just a few words:
"I've been tempted, again"
We learn that the singer not only has been tempted, but it's happened before. We also suspect that he hasn't submitted to the temptation either now or earlier, because if he had it wouldn't be described as just "temptation", it would be "I was bad" or something like that.
After I thought of this line I sat back and heard the rest of the story. It took about 15 minutes to finish the lyrics, hearing the melody in my head. I didn't write the line "let me be bad" until I got to that point of the song and needed a rhyme with "had".
Once again we've got the pattern that I use so often:
Verse
Verse
Bridge with a different pattern
Verse
An admission: as I was writing this song I heard Leonard Cohen's voice singing it, very low, in the voice he had in the song "Be For Real". When I sing it, I sing it an octave higher than I hear his voice sing it in my head.
To do things I shouldn't even be thinking of.
My minds been wandering, day dreaming,
Distracted by feelings that pretend to be love.
I know you're trusting me to be faithful
I'm being trusted more than I ever had
Oh baby, let me go, let me be bad.
Ah most women, they don't want me
That's ok, I'm past that phase of my life
But there's a woman, this one woman
If I close my eyes I may recall I already have a wife.
I know you're trusting me to be faithful
I promised to God, I know I had
And I got to keep holding on, but I want to be bad.
Older's not necessarily wiser
It's just a commonly held myth.
I'm not so old that I can't remember
What can happen when inhibitions shift
Let's figure out another way
So I don't carry this face of shame
When I look at you in the morning
I want to smile and see your smile just the same.
Instead of getting angry 'cause I'm human
Reward me for staying strong.
Let's get a babysitter, let's light some candles.
Let's make something right since I've done nothing wrong.
We can make a game out of my desire
It could be the best night that we've ever had
We could turn bad into our good, let me be bad.
Let's play doctor, let's play college, let me be bad.
Let's play dress-up, let's play heaven, let me be bad.
Let's play twister, let's play blind date, let me be bad.
Commentary
I wrote this song earlier this year, and the lyrics are among the favorites of mine. It started with the first line which I thought said so much in just a few words:
"I've been tempted, again"
We learn that the singer not only has been tempted, but it's happened before. We also suspect that he hasn't submitted to the temptation either now or earlier, because if he had it wouldn't be described as just "temptation", it would be "I was bad" or something like that.
After I thought of this line I sat back and heard the rest of the story. It took about 15 minutes to finish the lyrics, hearing the melody in my head. I didn't write the line "let me be bad" until I got to that point of the song and needed a rhyme with "had".
Once again we've got the pattern that I use so often:
Verse
Verse
Bridge with a different pattern
Verse
An admission: as I was writing this song I heard Leonard Cohen's voice singing it, very low, in the voice he had in the song "Be For Real". When I sing it, I sing it an octave higher than I hear his voice sing it in my head.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Time
Another common theme of mine is "time". I'm certainly not alone in this. I often find myself daydreaming of time, watching the time, staring out the window at nothing in particular except for the passage of time. I spent far too much time staring out the window in the schools of my youth.
I was the first kid in kindergarten with glasses, so I was regularly told to sit in the front row of the class by well-meaning grade school teachers. If I had the sarcasm that comes with age I would have replied "but I got these glasses so I can see from the back" but it wasn't to be. As soon as I was allowed to pick my own seat, I relocated to the back. I often stared out the window even if I wasn't next to the window.
One thing I know about staring out the window is this; it's never as good as it looks from inside. I don't think it's a "grass is always greener" sort of thing. It just looks better from the inside then it really is. I find the same thing applies when I'm on the outside looking in, although that could also be said in a different context.
I was the first kid in kindergarten with glasses, so I was regularly told to sit in the front row of the class by well-meaning grade school teachers. If I had the sarcasm that comes with age I would have replied "but I got these glasses so I can see from the back" but it wasn't to be. As soon as I was allowed to pick my own seat, I relocated to the back. I often stared out the window even if I wasn't next to the window.
One thing I know about staring out the window is this; it's never as good as it looks from inside. I don't think it's a "grass is always greener" sort of thing. It just looks better from the inside then it really is. I find the same thing applies when I'm on the outside looking in, although that could also be said in a different context.
Monday, May 21, 2007
After His Death
After his death they auctioned off his bikes.
Wasn't just the money, at least someone will ride.
I stood there watching as they emptied out the house.
Take everything, I don't need any of it now.
Every life has a beginning and an end.
Some roads take a slight curve, others go 'round the bend.
I don't know which way to go, or even where I've been.
I can't go back or take things back, this place that I'm in.
Don't forget the things you see
When time is short and your thoughts are free.
Don't forget to look at me.
After his death they auctioned off his bikes.
I watched remembering he never let me ride.
Now strangers take the things it seems that mattered most.
Like every day I smile and play the gracious host.
Commentary
I wrote this song in the summer of 2003. It represented my return to songwriting since I had not completed a song during the eight years prior, I had only written snippets and bits and pieces of things. I had started going to an open mic, it was the first time I had done that since college, and so writing was once again on my mind.
The open mic was at a bar I was going to regularly, and they had a trivia game on the TV. After each question was a factoid. The answer to the question had been "Steve McQueen", the question had something to do with who starred in whatever movie, I don't remember. After the answer was given, the factoid was "After his death, they auctioned off his motorcycle collection", which of course was too cumbersome but the image stuck in my mind for a couple of weeks. The 2002 death of my father (who as far as I know never rode a motorcycle) was still fresh in my mind, so it wasn't much of a stretch to tell the story as I heard it in my mind. At the time Lisa was expecting with our second son David, and thoughts of being a father were primary in my mind each day. The middle bridge was written as if I were my son talking to me.
I am especially happy with the line "Every life has a beginning and an end, some roads take a slight curve others go round the bend".
Wasn't just the money, at least someone will ride.
I stood there watching as they emptied out the house.
Take everything, I don't need any of it now.
Every life has a beginning and an end.
Some roads take a slight curve, others go 'round the bend.
I don't know which way to go, or even where I've been.
I can't go back or take things back, this place that I'm in.
Don't forget the things you see
When time is short and your thoughts are free.
Don't forget to look at me.
After his death they auctioned off his bikes.
I watched remembering he never let me ride.
Now strangers take the things it seems that mattered most.
Like every day I smile and play the gracious host.
Commentary
I wrote this song in the summer of 2003. It represented my return to songwriting since I had not completed a song during the eight years prior, I had only written snippets and bits and pieces of things. I had started going to an open mic, it was the first time I had done that since college, and so writing was once again on my mind.
The open mic was at a bar I was going to regularly, and they had a trivia game on the TV. After each question was a factoid. The answer to the question had been "Steve McQueen", the question had something to do with who starred in whatever movie, I don't remember. After the answer was given, the factoid was "After his death, they auctioned off his motorcycle collection", which of course was too cumbersome but the image stuck in my mind for a couple of weeks. The 2002 death of my father (who as far as I know never rode a motorcycle) was still fresh in my mind, so it wasn't much of a stretch to tell the story as I heard it in my mind. At the time Lisa was expecting with our second son David, and thoughts of being a father were primary in my mind each day. The middle bridge was written as if I were my son talking to me.
I am especially happy with the line "Every life has a beginning and an end, some roads take a slight curve others go round the bend".
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Rock & Roll Doesn't Want Me
I get up everyday in the same old way
Get ready to go to work.
Carry my briefcase off to the same place
My boss calls me a jerk.
A small desk in the corner
With a picture of my wife
A cup of coffee starts my day
And begins the end of my life
But I'll always dream of the day
That I'm up on that stage
With electric guitar
And a loud rock band
I'd be the latest rage.
Rock & Roll doesn't want me
Rock & Roll doesn't want me
Rock & Roll doesn't want me
But here I am.
Instead of my job they'd be a hungry mob
Crowding to see the show
The people would roar as I came on the floor
And played; every song they'd know.
There is no train of glory and fame
Waiting there for me
No limousines, no acid queens,
No specials on TV.
Don't have no screaming women
Begging for my body
I'll never see my name in lights
Or my picture in the lobby.
There is no crowd to love me
There is no record deal
But when I want to rock and roll
This is the way I'm gonna feel
Rock & Roll doesn't want me
Rock & Roll doesn't want me
Rock & Roll doesn't want me
But here I am.
Commentary
This one goes back to 1984. It's my theme song, most people don't have a theme song. I wrote it after only being in the work world for a month or so, and no I wasn't married but the "wife" line rhymed and worked. It's the only one of my earliest songs that I play out occasionally.
At the time I was pleased with the number of rhymes (including my first ever internal rhymes), as well as how well the lyrics meet the theme. After 23 years it seems to have held up alright.
Get ready to go to work.
Carry my briefcase off to the same place
My boss calls me a jerk.
A small desk in the corner
With a picture of my wife
A cup of coffee starts my day
And begins the end of my life
But I'll always dream of the day
That I'm up on that stage
With electric guitar
And a loud rock band
I'd be the latest rage.
Rock & Roll doesn't want me
Rock & Roll doesn't want me
Rock & Roll doesn't want me
But here I am.
Instead of my job they'd be a hungry mob
Crowding to see the show
The people would roar as I came on the floor
And played; every song they'd know.
There is no train of glory and fame
Waiting there for me
No limousines, no acid queens,
No specials on TV.
Don't have no screaming women
Begging for my body
I'll never see my name in lights
Or my picture in the lobby.
There is no crowd to love me
There is no record deal
But when I want to rock and roll
This is the way I'm gonna feel
Rock & Roll doesn't want me
Rock & Roll doesn't want me
Rock & Roll doesn't want me
But here I am.
Commentary
This one goes back to 1984. It's my theme song, most people don't have a theme song. I wrote it after only being in the work world for a month or so, and no I wasn't married but the "wife" line rhymed and worked. It's the only one of my earliest songs that I play out occasionally.
At the time I was pleased with the number of rhymes (including my first ever internal rhymes), as well as how well the lyrics meet the theme. After 23 years it seems to have held up alright.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Chortler Win!
I won my first "writing" contest. Well, the writing was only one sentence but I did win. I think that should count for something!
http://www.chortler.com/34788mrmelgibson.shtml
http://www.chortler.com/34788mrmelgibson.shtml
Monday, May 14, 2007
Church Street
They closed the church on Church Street
The pastor moved away
He tried to draw the faithful
But had nothing left to say.
The couple that planned to marry
Went to the church down the highway.
They closed the church on Church Street
There was no one left to pray.
The mayor called a meeting
And he invited all the guests.
The congressman and senator
The banker and the press.
They all sent members of their staff
Who nodded at each request
They appointed a commission,
And then they smiled and pressed the flesh.
But Sunday morning comes and goes without a single prayer,
In my town does God even know that we are there?
They closed the church on Church Street
After the factory went down
No dollars for collections
No bride to wear her gown.
First they shuttered all the workers
And then they shuttered this whole town.
They closed the church on Church Street
And the winds the only sound.
Commentary
I wrote this song about two years ago. This was written very quickly over the course of a work day, in between meetings and tasks, as I had moments to think.
The idea came to me during a meeting with a person from NYC who gave me his card, his office was on Church Street. I thought to myself, "What's the name of that church on Church Street?" Then I thought about whether there is still a church on Church Street. I realized that there must be small towns all over New York State that have Church Streets without churches on them. Well, why is it called Church Street if there's no church?
Of the comments I've received for these lyrics, the one that has been the most satisfying was from a fellow who told me that he had gone back to his hometown after many years, and while he was there he had noticed that they closed the church on Church Street. My song brought that memory back to him.
The pastor moved away
He tried to draw the faithful
But had nothing left to say.
The couple that planned to marry
Went to the church down the highway.
They closed the church on Church Street
There was no one left to pray.
The mayor called a meeting
And he invited all the guests.
The congressman and senator
The banker and the press.
They all sent members of their staff
Who nodded at each request
They appointed a commission,
And then they smiled and pressed the flesh.
But Sunday morning comes and goes without a single prayer,
In my town does God even know that we are there?
They closed the church on Church Street
After the factory went down
No dollars for collections
No bride to wear her gown.
First they shuttered all the workers
And then they shuttered this whole town.
They closed the church on Church Street
And the winds the only sound.
Commentary
I wrote this song about two years ago. This was written very quickly over the course of a work day, in between meetings and tasks, as I had moments to think.
The idea came to me during a meeting with a person from NYC who gave me his card, his office was on Church Street. I thought to myself, "What's the name of that church on Church Street?" Then I thought about whether there is still a church on Church Street. I realized that there must be small towns all over New York State that have Church Streets without churches on them. Well, why is it called Church Street if there's no church?
Of the comments I've received for these lyrics, the one that has been the most satisfying was from a fellow who told me that he had gone back to his hometown after many years, and while he was there he had noticed that they closed the church on Church Street. My song brought that memory back to him.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Things Aren't Gonna Change
The kids are grown, the lawns been mowed
The trash is at the curb.
The cat's been fed, the mail's been read
It's all calm in our world.
The laundry's done, you're having fun
Watching TV again.
The bills are paid, but I've not been laid
Since I can't remember when.
Oh, things aren't gonna change around here.
But all I gotta do is say I'm going for a beer.
You'll think all is well, I'll never tell
'Cause I can see it's very clear
That things aren't gonna change around here.
A kiss each day as I go on my way
Is sweet as all get out
"I love you." "I love you too."
Of that there is no doubt
But sometimes a man gets in a jam
And needs a little more
Despite your love it's not enough
So please don't lock the door
Oh, things aren't gonna change around here
And all I gotta do is say I'm going for a beer
You'll think all is well, I'll never tell
'Cause I can see it's very clear
That things aren't gonna change around here.
If it gets late you shouldn't wait
To go to bed when you are through
Get a good night's sleep sweet dreams to keep
There's no way you'll have a clue
I'll leave no trace, no lipstick face
No numbers you'll run across
It's a one-time thing, I'll wear my ring
That way it won't get lost.
Oh, things aren't gonna change around here
So all I gotta do is say I'm going for a beer
You'll think all is well, I'll never tell
'Cause I can see it's very clear
That things aren't gonna change around here.
Commentary
IT'S A JOKE!
This is yet another song I wrote last year, the style is boozy like some of Jack Logan's songs ("New Used Car and a Plate of Barbeque" from "Bulk" comes to mind). Of course Jack's songwriting blows mine away, but a guy's gotta have inspiration.
I swear that this is a work of fiction, sometimes I write too darn literally for my own good as more than one person has taken this as having a kernal of truth. There are no kernals.
Ok, it's no masterpiece but what energizes me as a writer about this song? First the number of rhymes, every bloody line rhymes with something and there's all the internal rhymes too. Second, while it may be a "one joke" song there's more than one joke in it and not much is filler. Every line is a joke, or is setting up a joke, or is part of my telling the story.
And once again, IT'S A JOKE!!!!!
The trash is at the curb.
The cat's been fed, the mail's been read
It's all calm in our world.
The laundry's done, you're having fun
Watching TV again.
The bills are paid, but I've not been laid
Since I can't remember when.
Oh, things aren't gonna change around here.
But all I gotta do is say I'm going for a beer.
You'll think all is well, I'll never tell
'Cause I can see it's very clear
That things aren't gonna change around here.
A kiss each day as I go on my way
Is sweet as all get out
"I love you." "I love you too."
Of that there is no doubt
But sometimes a man gets in a jam
And needs a little more
Despite your love it's not enough
So please don't lock the door
Oh, things aren't gonna change around here
And all I gotta do is say I'm going for a beer
You'll think all is well, I'll never tell
'Cause I can see it's very clear
That things aren't gonna change around here.
If it gets late you shouldn't wait
To go to bed when you are through
Get a good night's sleep sweet dreams to keep
There's no way you'll have a clue
I'll leave no trace, no lipstick face
No numbers you'll run across
It's a one-time thing, I'll wear my ring
That way it won't get lost.
Oh, things aren't gonna change around here
So all I gotta do is say I'm going for a beer
You'll think all is well, I'll never tell
'Cause I can see it's very clear
That things aren't gonna change around here.
Commentary
IT'S A JOKE!
This is yet another song I wrote last year, the style is boozy like some of Jack Logan's songs ("New Used Car and a Plate of Barbeque" from "Bulk" comes to mind). Of course Jack's songwriting blows mine away, but a guy's gotta have inspiration.
I swear that this is a work of fiction, sometimes I write too darn literally for my own good as more than one person has taken this as having a kernal of truth. There are no kernals.
Ok, it's no masterpiece but what energizes me as a writer about this song? First the number of rhymes, every bloody line rhymes with something and there's all the internal rhymes too. Second, while it may be a "one joke" song there's more than one joke in it and not much is filler. Every line is a joke, or is setting up a joke, or is part of my telling the story.
And once again, IT'S A JOKE!!!!!
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Lost In Your Direction
A cloudy day may rain.
The sun may shine again.
A smile may turn to frown.
And up may turn to down.
I'm lost in your direction.
I'm falling into Fall.
I'm passing time, I'm past the time
I'm talking to the wall.
The kitchen is for food.
Your mom may change her mood.
The bedroom is for sleep.
Pray that your soul to keep.
I'm lost in your direction.
I'm falling into Fall.
I'm passing time, I'm past the time
I'm talking to the wall.
Allowing to agree.
Distinguish want from need.
Allowing every face
And feeling out of place.
I'm lost in your direction.
I'm falling into Fall.
I'm passing time, I'm past the time
I'm talking to the wall.
The playroom is for toys.
The TV is for noise.
The window is for air.
I'll sit down in my chair.
I'm lost in your direction.
I'm falling into Fall.
I'm passing time, I'm past the time
I'm talking to the wall.
Commentary
This is another set of song lyrics from last year. It doesn't read like much of anything but it's pretty musical and a fun song to play and sing. I post it because last Wednesday I was at the monthly meeting of the local Just Plain Folks chapter (of which I am the Secretary) and I played it out for the first time. Paul, an amazingly talented bassist, accompanied me, and it sounded just great. It was the most fun I've ever had performing one of my own songs.
The lyrics are pretty self-explanatory I think, observations on what was going on around the house interspersed with descriptive words that don't necessarily mean anything apart from mood, like "allowing to agree" whatever that means.
The sun may shine again.
A smile may turn to frown.
And up may turn to down.
I'm lost in your direction.
I'm falling into Fall.
I'm passing time, I'm past the time
I'm talking to the wall.
The kitchen is for food.
Your mom may change her mood.
The bedroom is for sleep.
Pray that your soul to keep.
I'm lost in your direction.
I'm falling into Fall.
I'm passing time, I'm past the time
I'm talking to the wall.
Allowing to agree.
Distinguish want from need.
Allowing every face
And feeling out of place.
I'm lost in your direction.
I'm falling into Fall.
I'm passing time, I'm past the time
I'm talking to the wall.
The playroom is for toys.
The TV is for noise.
The window is for air.
I'll sit down in my chair.
I'm lost in your direction.
I'm falling into Fall.
I'm passing time, I'm past the time
I'm talking to the wall.
Commentary
This is another set of song lyrics from last year. It doesn't read like much of anything but it's pretty musical and a fun song to play and sing. I post it because last Wednesday I was at the monthly meeting of the local Just Plain Folks chapter (of which I am the Secretary) and I played it out for the first time. Paul, an amazingly talented bassist, accompanied me, and it sounded just great. It was the most fun I've ever had performing one of my own songs.
The lyrics are pretty self-explanatory I think, observations on what was going on around the house interspersed with descriptive words that don't necessarily mean anything apart from mood, like "allowing to agree" whatever that means.
Monday, May 7, 2007
The Sun Shines In The Winter
I painted the walls bright colors
Pink and green and blue.
I brought out my mother's curtains
The one's I had hidden from you.
Nothing goes with anything
Nothing goes with me.
Sometimes the sun shines in the winter
Just wait and see.
I put on my nicest clothing
I brushed my hair.
I shined my shoes, put on a hat
Opened the door, reached my heart towards the air.
Headed nowhere with any reason
No one went with me
Sometimes the sun shines in the winter
Just wait and see.
Rising up through the path of the day
Rising up through the winter and my time away.
Quiet can be a comfort
Quiet can be a curse.
Quiet can be with someone
Or someone can be quiet first.
I look into the clouds
No one looks with me
Sometimes the sun shines in the winter
Just wait and see.
Commentary
I posted these song lyrics from last year in honor of the beautiful weather we've had over the last few days.
"The Sun Shines In The Winter" was originally written into an email I wrote to my friend Shirley. I had already sent her a few song lyrics and she liked them quite a bit, so I thought I would change things up and for the first time in my songwriting "career" try to write lyrics hearing someone else's voice. Her voice. Shirley has a beautiful voice. So I had the double challenge of writing for a woman's voice too.
Pink and green and blue.
I brought out my mother's curtains
The one's I had hidden from you.
Nothing goes with anything
Nothing goes with me.
Sometimes the sun shines in the winter
Just wait and see.
I put on my nicest clothing
I brushed my hair.
I shined my shoes, put on a hat
Opened the door, reached my heart towards the air.
Headed nowhere with any reason
No one went with me
Sometimes the sun shines in the winter
Just wait and see.
Rising up through the path of the day
Rising up through the winter and my time away.
Quiet can be a comfort
Quiet can be a curse.
Quiet can be with someone
Or someone can be quiet first.
I look into the clouds
No one looks with me
Sometimes the sun shines in the winter
Just wait and see.
Commentary
I posted these song lyrics from last year in honor of the beautiful weather we've had over the last few days.
"The Sun Shines In The Winter" was originally written into an email I wrote to my friend Shirley. I had already sent her a few song lyrics and she liked them quite a bit, so I thought I would change things up and for the first time in my songwriting "career" try to write lyrics hearing someone else's voice. Her voice. Shirley has a beautiful voice. So I had the double challenge of writing for a woman's voice too.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
The Ocean
I could not have love, so I was determined not to love. I placed love in the ocean, and I moved nearby where I could visit the place we had last been.
Every now and again, as time went on, I would dip my toe into the water. This way, when it turned out to be as cold as I knew it would be, I would not be very wet at all. I could pretend that I had just been walking past and slipped in; I was careless, and, after all, we all walk barefoot on the beach. If someone saw me and asked what I was doing I would say, "the water looked so tempting, but it really is very cold".
As the years passed the water became warmer, and eventually it was as comfortable as the air outside. On one particular day the sky was beautiful and the birds were singing, and I did not pay attention and somehow wandered into the water. I did not know where I was until I was immersed.
I smiled as I realized that love had returned, and that it had only been a matter of time until love changed the ocean from cold to warm. It was not until I began to swim toward the shore that I realized that I had only dipped my toe as I normally did, and that the ocean had risen to cover me.
It was not long before the water subsided and I stood where I had been, no worse for the wear apart from the wet clothes that everyone could see. I was shivering. I walked toward the ocean to return to love, but as I dipped my toe I realized that it was cold again. Love had not changed anything, the ocean was as unwelcoming as it had always been. I walked home wondering if any of it had been real at all.
Commentary
I wrote this story earlier this year. In "The Ocean", love is a metaphor for the life of creativity that I dreamed of having when I was young. It was purposefully written with a style inspired by my least favorite children's book "The Giving Tree". In "The Giving Tree", Shel Silverstein told the story of a tree who loved a little boy so much that, as the years went by, she gave and gave of herself until she was nothing but a stump for the little boy (now an old man) to sit on. That is not a very good lesson to teach, in my opinion, we must both give and take care of ourselves so that we are able to give another day. I'm convinced that Mr. Silverstein had intended my message as the true message and that it's been lost on parents ever since.
I found it interesting that when I first wrote and posted this story, in another place, there were two people who commented on it being "beautiful". I think it's quite brutal and depressing.
Every now and again, as time went on, I would dip my toe into the water. This way, when it turned out to be as cold as I knew it would be, I would not be very wet at all. I could pretend that I had just been walking past and slipped in; I was careless, and, after all, we all walk barefoot on the beach. If someone saw me and asked what I was doing I would say, "the water looked so tempting, but it really is very cold".
As the years passed the water became warmer, and eventually it was as comfortable as the air outside. On one particular day the sky was beautiful and the birds were singing, and I did not pay attention and somehow wandered into the water. I did not know where I was until I was immersed.
I smiled as I realized that love had returned, and that it had only been a matter of time until love changed the ocean from cold to warm. It was not until I began to swim toward the shore that I realized that I had only dipped my toe as I normally did, and that the ocean had risen to cover me.
It was not long before the water subsided and I stood where I had been, no worse for the wear apart from the wet clothes that everyone could see. I was shivering. I walked toward the ocean to return to love, but as I dipped my toe I realized that it was cold again. Love had not changed anything, the ocean was as unwelcoming as it had always been. I walked home wondering if any of it had been real at all.
Commentary
I wrote this story earlier this year. In "The Ocean", love is a metaphor for the life of creativity that I dreamed of having when I was young. It was purposefully written with a style inspired by my least favorite children's book "The Giving Tree". In "The Giving Tree", Shel Silverstein told the story of a tree who loved a little boy so much that, as the years went by, she gave and gave of herself until she was nothing but a stump for the little boy (now an old man) to sit on. That is not a very good lesson to teach, in my opinion, we must both give and take care of ourselves so that we are able to give another day. I'm convinced that Mr. Silverstein had intended my message as the true message and that it's been lost on parents ever since.
I found it interesting that when I first wrote and posted this story, in another place, there were two people who commented on it being "beautiful". I think it's quite brutal and depressing.
Friday, May 4, 2007
You Are The Everything
"Here's the scene
You're in the backseat laying down
The window wraps around
To the sound of the travel and the engine
All you hear is time stands still in travel
You feel such peace and absolute stillness
Still, it doesn't end but slowly drifts into sleep
The stars are the greatest thing you've ever seen
And they're there for you
For you alone,
You are the everything."
Berry Buck Mills Stipe (R.E.M.) 1988
"I looked for it, and I found it."
Berry Buck Mills Stipe (R.E.M.) 1986
It's there. Look for it. Decide what it is that you're looking for. Make a decision what to do first. Try a few different ways, one of them may work. More than one may work, then you have choices. If you tried and it didn't work, try again. To paraphrase Warren Zevon, sleep when you're dead.
Baby steps. Hold on to the coffee table.
Be yourself.
Close your eyes and remember that the sun is shining for you, this is your moment.
You really are the everything.
You're in the backseat laying down
The window wraps around
To the sound of the travel and the engine
All you hear is time stands still in travel
You feel such peace and absolute stillness
Still, it doesn't end but slowly drifts into sleep
The stars are the greatest thing you've ever seen
And they're there for you
For you alone,
You are the everything."
Berry Buck Mills Stipe (R.E.M.) 1988
"I looked for it, and I found it."
Berry Buck Mills Stipe (R.E.M.) 1986
It's there. Look for it. Decide what it is that you're looking for. Make a decision what to do first. Try a few different ways, one of them may work. More than one may work, then you have choices. If you tried and it didn't work, try again. To paraphrase Warren Zevon, sleep when you're dead.
Baby steps. Hold on to the coffee table.
Be yourself.
Close your eyes and remember that the sun is shining for you, this is your moment.
You really are the everything.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
A Box Of Letters
I still can feel the pain
I still can feel the sorrow
I'm going to be there again
Odds are it will be tomorrow.
Warning without warning
Never heard from you again
Rules were made to be broken
I've broken my own heart instead.
So sad that you left me
Sadder still that you are gone
I should have put you on a pedestal
Are you still angry
Or are you calm?
I'll never kiss your cheek again
Never see your smiling face
Waiting for a box of letters
But the letters never came.
Too late to say much of anything
Unless I'm talking to the sky
It was important for you to know me
I just didn't understand why.
So sad that you left me
Sadder still that you are gone
I should have put you on a pedestal
Are you still angry
Or are you calm?
It's much too late for anything
So I'll close my eyes to sleep
Teach me the rules again
Tell me how my life should be.
I want to visit where I last saw you
But I know you won't be there
A cup of coffee where we once sat
I can cry, but there's no one to care.
So sad that you left me
Sadder still that you are gone
I should have put you on a pedestal
Are you still angry
Or are you calm?
Commentary
I wrote this song last month, for my friend Paula Adorno, who died five years ago this June.
I would go long periods without hearing from Paula, then I would get a manilla envelope filled with months worth of letters. Paula would misplace my address but continue to write to me anyway. Then when she found the address she would send me the accumulated letters. I hadn't heard from her for eight years before she died, and as the years went on I wondered if one day I would get a box of letters since it had been so long.
But the letters never came.
One time I told her how I expected our friendship would end. I said that I wouldn't hear from her for a long time, then I would find out that she had died. She gave me the appropriate response, "Fuck you!"
She was laughing.
Unfortunately, that is what happened. One late night I was online and I put her name in the Social Security Death Index and found that Paula had died a year earlier.
I'm grateful that about a year after I found out (two years after her death) I had the opportunity to talk on the phone with a friend that I had only heard her mention. The friend told me that Paula was doing well before her death, and that her death had been an accident as the police had determined it to be. She also said that although Paula and I had not been in touch for a long time, she knew that Paula loved me. This makes me as sad as it makes me anything. I miss her so much and I will miss her forever.
I still can feel the sorrow
I'm going to be there again
Odds are it will be tomorrow.
Warning without warning
Never heard from you again
Rules were made to be broken
I've broken my own heart instead.
So sad that you left me
Sadder still that you are gone
I should have put you on a pedestal
Are you still angry
Or are you calm?
I'll never kiss your cheek again
Never see your smiling face
Waiting for a box of letters
But the letters never came.
Too late to say much of anything
Unless I'm talking to the sky
It was important for you to know me
I just didn't understand why.
So sad that you left me
Sadder still that you are gone
I should have put you on a pedestal
Are you still angry
Or are you calm?
It's much too late for anything
So I'll close my eyes to sleep
Teach me the rules again
Tell me how my life should be.
I want to visit where I last saw you
But I know you won't be there
A cup of coffee where we once sat
I can cry, but there's no one to care.
So sad that you left me
Sadder still that you are gone
I should have put you on a pedestal
Are you still angry
Or are you calm?
Commentary
I wrote this song last month, for my friend Paula Adorno, who died five years ago this June.
I would go long periods without hearing from Paula, then I would get a manilla envelope filled with months worth of letters. Paula would misplace my address but continue to write to me anyway. Then when she found the address she would send me the accumulated letters. I hadn't heard from her for eight years before she died, and as the years went on I wondered if one day I would get a box of letters since it had been so long.
But the letters never came.
One time I told her how I expected our friendship would end. I said that I wouldn't hear from her for a long time, then I would find out that she had died. She gave me the appropriate response, "Fuck you!"
She was laughing.
Unfortunately, that is what happened. One late night I was online and I put her name in the Social Security Death Index and found that Paula had died a year earlier.
I'm grateful that about a year after I found out (two years after her death) I had the opportunity to talk on the phone with a friend that I had only heard her mention. The friend told me that Paula was doing well before her death, and that her death had been an accident as the police had determined it to be. She also said that although Paula and I had not been in touch for a long time, she knew that Paula loved me. This makes me as sad as it makes me anything. I miss her so much and I will miss her forever.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Welcome To My Blog
Hi! My name is John Kloberdanz, I'm a singer and writer living in Buffalo, New York. I'm creating this blog to keep track of my accomplishments (the few I expect to have) and opinions (I always have those). I have a number of creative and personal goals for the next five years, and I'll use this as a diary of sorts, at least for the time being. It's hard for me to believe that there are people that would be interested in me or my work, but I've been given the occasional positive comment.
Here's a bit about me:
My musical superhero is Neil Young.
My musical heroes are Leonard Cohen, Paul Westerberg, Jack Logan, R.E.M. (with Bill Berry), and Chris Difford.
I'm 46 years old.
I don't want to be young again.
I'm not sure about God, but I can't visualize death so I try not to think about it.
I'm married and have two children. I love my family above all else.
I'm very lucky. I don't deserve what I have.
I collect memories.
My favorite song is "Skyway" by Paul Westerberg.
I've met three of my musical heroes.
I wrote and recorded a song with one of the three. I don't have a copy of it. Neither does he.
I finished another hero's Coca-Cola. I still have the can.
I never really liked Coca-Cola. I usually drink Diet Pepsi.
I eat candy bars and drink Diet Pepsi.
If I record a CD of my music, it will be called "A Box of Letters".
I have a box of letters in my basement, sealed shut with packing tape. Most of what's inside are letters from old girlfriends, but it's been so long since I wrapped it up that I don't remember exactly. I think there are some photographs too.
My most recent song is called "A Box of Letters" but it's not about that box.
My last name is pronounced "Kloh-bur-dance".
Here's a bit about me:
My musical superhero is Neil Young.
My musical heroes are Leonard Cohen, Paul Westerberg, Jack Logan, R.E.M. (with Bill Berry), and Chris Difford.
I'm 46 years old.
I don't want to be young again.
I'm not sure about God, but I can't visualize death so I try not to think about it.
I'm married and have two children. I love my family above all else.
I'm very lucky. I don't deserve what I have.
I collect memories.
My favorite song is "Skyway" by Paul Westerberg.
I've met three of my musical heroes.
I wrote and recorded a song with one of the three. I don't have a copy of it. Neither does he.
I finished another hero's Coca-Cola. I still have the can.
I never really liked Coca-Cola. I usually drink Diet Pepsi.
I eat candy bars and drink Diet Pepsi.
If I record a CD of my music, it will be called "A Box of Letters".
I have a box of letters in my basement, sealed shut with packing tape. Most of what's inside are letters from old girlfriends, but it's been so long since I wrapped it up that I don't remember exactly. I think there are some photographs too.
My most recent song is called "A Box of Letters" but it's not about that box.
My last name is pronounced "Kloh-bur-dance".
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