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.

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.

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".

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.

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

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.

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!!!!!

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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".