Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘beautiful lyrics’

Lately, when I look in the mirror, I see that the furrows and signs of age won’t be departing my face any time soon.

There are many rock anthems, the best of which have multi-generational appeal. When songwriting is this good, it feels like it is about me and the years between me and my teenage-self fall away.

Just when I’d gotten Fake Plastic Trees out of a weeks-long loop in my head, my kid played it in the car. I belted it out along with Thom Yorke and now it is re-lodged in my neurology. I don’t mind though; this is why I love rock n roll. This is why I understand why I was born when I was born. This is one reason I love men and don’t mind terribly much sometimes that rock n roll is dominated by them.

Sometimes I dig a cover of a really good original tune when it is Jeff Tweedy singing it and hitting the nail on the head. I love this rendition, his fealty to the original, his obvious love for the song, and the humility with which he plays it–no fancy tricks.

 

Read Full Post »

each day

the whetstone.

a writer,

the words.

pen to paper;

fingertips to keys

wrists see

*

who visits my dreams

tugs at my ankles, ruffles my hem

I do not know why, for whom
I write this

corseted

record

*

Hell yes!

***

Okay, so it’s not a real mash-up, but a twinkly-style mash-up and that’s how I roll….

Read Full Post »

IMG_1116

Christmas can be a mixed bag for a girl like me, a half-Jew brought up by a couple of atheists. So much history can be boiled down into my feelings and experiences of this season of holidays.

The first time I celebrated a real Christmas was when I was 4 years old in Germany. I think they still put live candles on the trees, but I can’t be sure. What I remember most clearly are oranges, nuts and a nutcracker, and a whole fish in aspic. You hear me tell of it here and there, in a poem or so.

There is no snow and I am convinced it will never snow again in New England. I think Paul will have to mow the lawn in January and I think the cat will never be rid of fleas because it will never freeze deeply enough ever again.

What we do know is that the light is coming back. That’s what we know and we know it and know it and know it. And it doesn’t mean we all have to be happy, so don’t fall into that trap of manufactured bullshit. You are allowed to mope and be sad and angry and have a crappy time. You are, you really are. And if you are lucky, you will get to spend that time of yourself with the people you love. That’s all. Food and family and a bit of warmth and light. If not family, the friends who stand in as family. If you are having a hard time generating your own light, steal it from someone else and don’t feel bad about it. They are giving it away because they have enough.

We went to hear Tim and Peter and Zoe on Saturday night at The Montague Book Mill. I can’t say that Christmas songs are my favorite thing in the world, but it’s a magical space and I was glad to be there.

I’ll just post some song now, not even one that the little trio played last night.

I was driving my kid to her dance group yesterday morning and I heard this song on the radio. First I thought, oh no, a country song with all the Christmas clichés. But did I find myself crying by the end? Oh, yes, oh yes I did.

I’d take this honesty and heartfelt emotion over your Bing Crosby Baby-Jesus-With-The-Blue-Eyes any day. Any day.

Read Full Post »

…I used to do Music Mondays? This is like that, only it’s just past midnight on a Saturday.

I used to sing this to my babies at bedtime.

and if you think that’s the definitive version, you still gotta admit that Bonnie Raitt kills with it, too

and I can’t let it go without this

Basically, you can’t go wrong with a song like Angel From Montgomery is really my point. Even I sound FABULOUS when I sing it.

Don’t forget to say your rabbit rabbit for good luck before you speak any other words when you wake up tomorrow.

Maybe one of these days I’ll even write a poem.

Read Full Post »

Happy Mother’s Day to all women, even those of you who aren’t mothers. It is the way it is. For all of us.

How did my Mother’s Day begin?

At 3 am, I was waked to the sound of retching, cat retching. The cat had puked on the down quilt under which I slumbered. The dear.

This was a perfect reminder of what mothers do most of the other 364 days (and nights) of our lives.

So I did what mothers have always done, cleaned up puke. Did laundry. Felt my hungry, grumbling stomach. Yes, this is the reason motherhood makes you fat. When you wake in the middle of the night to the delightful sounds and smells of poop or puke or pee or crying (all of these belonging to someone else), you find after your arduous tasks that you are hungry. So you eat breakfast. In four hours, when you wake again, you will be hungry for your real breakfast and you will eat again. You will be tired. You will drink coffee, you will crave energy in the form of sugar and fat because you are sleep-deprived; you will eat some more. Love the fat. As Susun Weed says pack your bags for the long journey.

Yesterday, I had the honor of going on a nice bike ride with 2 of my gal pals. What did I learn anew? That every ride is a good ride. Yes, it goes hand-in-hand with there are no perfect conditions (though yesterday’s weather and lack of traffic means it came pretty close).

I was finally able to prevent my mid-traps from becoming excessively painful; they were only tight. I also had more of what I needed all around, cheer, stamina, upright torso, free neck, widening chest, freeing away to the knees, knees forward, tight in on my climbs, lots of good breath. But I was slightly dehydrated and still lacking protein because I got a headache and my legs shook once. Must eat eggs more often. Eggs=mothers. See how this all fits together?

I also had my first exposure to obtaining a biker’s tan. I have mixed feelings about it. Still, I am sure we all got a buttload of Vitamin D under the perfectly clear skies.

I realized yesterday that I am becoming much less of a biking bitch; I am slowly evolving into a BIKING CITIZEN. It’s hard to give up these well-earned parts of myself (it’s been about a month). I’m not convinced that I won’t need my bitchy in the near future, so I’m not swearing off of it yet.

Next tasks include harder faster longer and more hills. But I’m not attached. I’m easy, zen, cool, a unified whole, a non-end-gaining, non-doing-when-possible, bike chick; open to possibilities.

Here is what I posted last year for the Music Monday after Mother’s Day. It is the best lyric for women that I know.

Now I am going to paint my slutty toenails with a slutty color for Mother’s Day because I can. Fuck the debates and the cover of Time magazine. Own it, whatever it is, ladies. It’s our day, all 365 of them, year in and year out.

Read Full Post »

How can you not be full of gratitude on a day like today? It’s beautiful outside, cool and crisp and sunny. The strong wind that whipped around the Valley every day for over a week has finally subsided. It will probably climb into the upper 60s later on. Yum.

This morning, our dear young friend is undergoing major surgery in Montreal, a full spinal fusion, from the sacrum up. It will take up to 8 hours. My mind will be on that at times throughout the day.

I’ve been listening anew to a bunch of Julian Cope. Wishing I could hear Jehovahkill though we somehow lost the disc; it was actually my initiation album to all things Arch Drude.

Julian Cope is as crazy as a loon, but he has managed to crank out some great stuff over his three decades on the scene. This from the stellar Peggy Suicide

Read Full Post »

Nothing major to play today, I am uninspired. No post-Christmas blues, no Boxing Day celebrations.

Somehow, I missed Mazzy Star when they were around. I don’t know much about them (in spite of wiki), nor do I really care. This song has all the makings of a song I’d normally hate, the self-conscious, almost-droning vocals, the slow tempo which could turn disastrous in the hands of less careful singer. I tend to have a visceral reaction to voices that are pushed down and self-conscious; too many layers of effort. This can also manifest itself in over-reaching and over-modulating, so common in a lot of popular singing nowadays.

Somehow, Hope Sandoval manages to squeak in under the tendency to over-emotionalize her voice: she almost doesn’t enunciate, but she does enunciate. She is breathy, but just short of what would be pretentiously breathy.

I am familiar with only 3 of Mazzy Star’s songs–Into Dust, Halah, and the better-known Fade Into You, all of which I like very much. I like that this song is reminiscent of the VU–it’s retro, it’s trippy. It makes me want to turn the snowflakes on on my blog, but they’d be psychedelic swirling snowflakes, acid green and purple.

The lyrics are pure poetry as paired with the music, if you can stand the slow pace.

Sorry about the sappy visuals even though I kind of like the Man Ray-like eyelash with a tear suspended and the snowy lane. There’s a more tolerable live version, but I chose this for some reason.

Warning: this song not recommended for long winter road trips in the dark

Into Dust

Still falling
Breathless and on again
Inside today
Beside me today
A round broken in two
’til your eyes shed into dust
Like two strangers turning into dust
’til my hand shook the way I fear

I could possibly be fading
Or have something more to gain
I could feel myself growing colder
I could feel myself under your face
Under…your face

It was you
breathless and torn
I could feel my eyes turning into dust
And two strangers turning into dust
Turning into dust.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »