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A happy a cappella song featuring heavy breathing, chest pounding, and lyrics from the back of a condiment package.
And a true story. Occurred and written down in spring of 1990, recorded by Andrew Rappaport in the “counting the moon” sessions in June 1992 in a few takes, while grinning madly. I never found out what “shinshu honzukuri miso shiro” means, and I hope I never will.
I improvised this while playing guitar for my daughter while she took her bath, one rainy Sunday in 2008, having just driven home from my wife’s cousin’s wedding in Vermont. I was just singing what was going on. Then it seemed worth remembering.
It took two years to get it recorded. The rain storm recording was from last night, after I spent most of the day finishing the solo guitar and bass tracks.
A hymn to the inspiration and guidance I feel from flowing water. Five-part a cappella harmony.
I wrote this in the fall of 1995, the morning after having seen the movie Beyond Rangoon. The climax of the movie comes as a group of Burmese refugees is trying to cross a river marking the Thai border. At the time, I was spending some time every day watching the creek near my house.
A love poem about a breeze that falls in love with the lake it touches, but is (apparently) unrequited.
She was an air sign, I’m water. It all felt symbolic. Also I was riding my bike a lot where I could see Cayuga Lake stretching out, and feeling the autumn winds. This recording took three completely separate tries over many months before it sounded good to me.
I wrote the first verse of this song in an online chat conversation. That may not seem very remarkable, but consider that it was 1987 at the time (~10,000 computers on the Internet, before either the World Wide Web or IRC). The conversation took place on mainframe computers at IBM, where I and my friend Betsy were (supposed to be) working.
The first line was in response to the question, “but why would you?” I don’t remember what preceded that.
Clara and I wrote and recorded this for the Fall Creek Elementary School Talent Show, and she lip synced it with friends Ava, Clare, Grace, Nuala, and Tivona. It's a parody of "Dynamite" by Taio Cruz - see the (child-inappropriate) video on YouTube. I think it has to do with the similarities between the two most virulent parasites of childhood: pediculosis and Top 40 radio earworms.
Written February 24, 2014, as I walked to work. A goose was flying overhead. My uncle was dying, and I was thinking about my memories of him, and about how mysterious memory is, and how we create them for each other, and what going away really means. What’s the difference between a memory, a dream, a plan, and the present moment? Sounds like the beginning of a Buddhist joke. opciones binarias gratis en español read more...
A happy ode to sitting still.
The title and chorus for this song came to me in early 1990 just after I finished up my previous album, “the flower grandchildren’s quiet transformation.” I knew at that point that it was going to be the title track for my next album, but it wasn’t until two years later, when I had most of the remaining songs for that album written, that I actually got down to writing the verses for this one. During those years I was diligently sitting quietly for a half hour each morning, often accompanied by my cat. It was a nice thing to do. migliori broker online read more...