Sunday, March 30, 2008

Christopher Eckart: Coffee and Beer, Forest's Bones

Christopher Eckart is offering these songs to be fired in the Forge on April 9th. Remember any and all comments, responses, feedback and critiques are welcome here or on all the posts.
Further info about him with recordings can be found here:http://radio3.cbc.ca/bands/CHRISTOPHER-ECKART

Coffee and Beer

Well you’ve all heard the story of love and alienation
But not a single song about rehydration
I like my whistle wet, see
So you know what to get me
The things that got me here – Coffee and Beer

In the morning I need up, and in the evening I need down
Yes my life’s an elevator run by a clown
Sometimes I need a legal high – for instance at work
And sometimes I want the potion that turns me into a jerk

Coffee and Beer, black and golden
Filling us with cheer
And essential nutrients like caffeine and alcohol
Important drinks
They help us think
Every day all year
I’m drinking coffee and beer

Well folks these days are drinking water cause it’s supposedly healthy
Ten glasses a day – O my lord!
I used to work for a guy
Who drank only rye
Said he refused to drink water cause fish piss in the stuff

Coffee and Beer, black and golden
Filling us with cheer
And essential nutrients like caffeine and alcohol
Important drinks
They help us think
Every day all year
I’m drinking coffee and beer

Now sometimes on a label, you’ll see a health advisory
But you can disregard and just take it from me
I’ve done some personal research, and the thing that I’ve found
No matter what you drink, you’ll end up in the ground

So drink Coffee and Beer, black and golden
Filling us with cheer
And essential nutrients like caffeine and alcohol
Important drinks
They help us think
Every day all year
I’m drinking coffee and beer

Coffee and Beer, black and golden
Filling us with cheer
And essential nutrients like caffeine and alcohol
Important drinks
They help us think
Every day all year
I’m drinking coffee and beer

The forest’s bones

It’s a long drive to Wolf Lake
And from the bottom everything looks green
But when you get right up that mountain
There’s more mud than forest to be seen

Bare brown earth and piles of twisted roots
Lay scattered in silence all around
Till the cry of one last owl
Leaves me with its dying sound

I’ve got a photograph in front of me
Of the way it used to be
When tall green trees was all the eagle saw
Now there’s a picture burning in my mind
Of bare mud on a mountainside
And not an animal to see it except for me

Buckshot signs and hydro lines
Burnt beer cans in a truck-tire fire pit
What we leave behind is nothing
Next to what we take away

Tall trees fallen – limbs cut off
Their corpses bleeding sap into the mud
Although we try we’ll never touch the sky
Like they did till we cut them down

I’ve got a photograph in front of me
Of the way it used to be
When tall green trees was all the eagle saw
Now there’s a picture burning in my mind
Of bare mud on a mountainside
And not an animal to see it except for me

In our cities in our homes
The forest’s bones are waiting for the end
When waters rise and cities die
They’ll get back to the earth again

I’ve got a photograph in front of me
Of the way it used to be
When tall green trees was all the eagle saw
Now there’s a picture burning in my mind
Of bare mud on a mountainside
And not an animal to see it except for me

Friday, March 21, 2008

Tips to Sharpen By: Songwriting Tips

Here's some tips derived from our last meeting.

Tip #3
If a song does not seem to be working, take the best line, chord change or melody and rebuild the song around that. This can mean repeating this part as a hook or refrain, OR you can try saving this part for one golden moment the whole song is building toward. 

Tip #4
This is a basic one: do not be afraid of re-writing your songs! Can I be so bold to say that I all the best songwriters go through multiple version of their songs? Write as many verses as you can and then pick through and cut and paste it for continuity and the effect you desire. Bob Dylan reportedly wrote something like 25 verses for Like A Rolling Stone.

Tip #5
Try writing a song in the genre of your favourite songwriter(s). Many of us today are concerned with developing our own unique style. This however can become a hinderance to our development and ability to learn from the great songwriters of the past. I've attempted deriving and lifting parts from other songwriters and then by the time song is finished, the stolen parts become near unrecognizable and secretly I'm almost disappointed that my blatancy is hidden.
As T.S. Eliot (one of the greatest poets of the 20th century) famously said, "immature poets imitate, great poets steal".

That's all for now. Next Forge is April 9th! Contact me if you are interested in showcasing-- my info can be found here: www.myspace.com/thomaswilsonfolksongs

Sunday, March 9, 2008

Next Forge: March 12th; Hooks; Marine Band, Midwinter Sunrise

Hello all you songwriters and songcritics,

Our next meeting is this coming Wednesday, March 12th. As usual I'll introduce one aspect of songwriting that we can use to centre our discussion and reflect on the nature of songwriting. This time round why don't look at "hooks", the little clips of a song that catch us and get stuck in our memory, that drawn us in and spin little whirlpools in our minds? Sometimes these hooks hold the musical kernel of a song, but other times a hook can overpower the song, nauseating us. Hooks are the reason we love and hate pop music. Do we need hooks? Can we add them, develop them or diminish and remove them at will according to our musical vision? Or is that a false freedom that makes our art truly artificial? And to take this another level: if songs reflect the world and our experience of it, are there "hooks" in our lives? What are these hooks?

Please do not hesitate to add your comments -- even grossly tangental thoughts are appreciated.

I will also offer up as fodder a couple of newish songs of my own. One these is already here: www.myspace.com/thomaswilsonfolksongs

Midwinter Sunrise (duet)
By Thomas Wilson

Me:
Midwinter darkness flickers and fades
I'm thinking coffee and dreading the day
oh no
layers of sweaters, long johns and scarves
can calm my shivering, a-lacking your warmth

chorus:
I rise again 3x
When will look in your eyes again?

You:
Cobblestone courtyards, croissants and café
Will not make the sun rise one other day
oh, a-
'cross those Mediterranean skies
as my sun is setting, I see your sun rise

Both:
The beauty of sunrise, vermillion-leafed gold
If only beauty could conquer the cold
oh, and a-
rise you and fly you 'cross shimmering sea
and bring my darling back home to me

Marine Band
By Thomas Wilson

Riding deep rolling waves, I was mopping the deck,
When I saw your blowing hair showing your lovely neck
The spray and the surf and the sheets of falling rain
Made my efforts at mopping all lie in vain

To you, my uniformed comrade
you traitor to homeland
I’ll play you my marine band
Just to sit near your cabin
And hear you translatin’
What stirs your soul dear
Your loving or hating

As the hot rains were heaving, we bunkered below deck
And I thought of you dear in the steam and sweat
I’d give all the silk in China, just to undress you of your camouflage
And whisper deep secrets, in our deep secret espionage

Yes you, you phosphorescent woman
Your skin soft and golden
I’ll play you my marine band
Just to sit near your cabin
And hear you translatin’
What stirs your soul dear
Your loving or hating

You came up beside me, I was mopping the deck
My tour of duty with just two days left
You said you would write, I told you please no
I said I’d be alright, but I lied doncha know

To you my south east asian siren
your transmitters firing
Me playing my marine band
to every island
While you are translating
What stirs your dear
is it loving of hating?

I dreamed that our differences, were but froth on the sea
we’d make love as deep as waves-meant-to-be
But oh how I lied to you, buffing the prow
I speak only truth now that’s my lifelong vow

To you, my enemy’s daughter
Why did I even bother
To play you my marine band
To walked on your island
While I was translating
What stirs you soul dear
Is it loving or hating?

Now I’m back in America, my feet on dry land
Sitting on my porch, blowing my marine band
Sounds of dying high winds, salt stick in the reeds
Could I ever play this thing? my heart concedes

to you, you double agent Juliet
you submarine suffragette
I played you my marine band
I sat in your cabin
I heard you translating
What stirs you soul, dear
your loving …
did I lie is your cabin
when I heard translating?
your loving... your loving...