I think i’ve been writing this song in the back of my mind for a couple of years but it came together all in one afternoon. Made this recording in the bathroom the next day after work.
I think i’m getting better and better at writing and singing, but i’d like to start being more consistent, making time for practice and playing some open mics.
Same Old Me
Someday I’m gonna show up in That coffee shop that you’ve been workin in Order something I don’t usually get To convince you I have changed
But it’s the same old me I still love you like I always have I’m so sorry that I broke your heart I just can’t forget your name
I think about the day you shut me out And it’s clear you feel I’ve done the same I can’t make you see how much I care But I’m here when you come home
It’s the same old me I still love you like I always have I’m so sorry that I broke your heart I just can’t forget your name
It’s the same old me I’m so sorry that I broke your heart Oh, you know I’ll never lie to you and I won’t forget your name
Written over several days worth of yard work, a couple of nighttime scribbles, and three afternoons helping direct parking—singing into an empty parking lot.
This first draft recording was made with just me and the guitar in the dining room, direct into a stereo mic on the evening of June 19, 2023.
Can’t Ignore
I’m not gonna lay down and die I’ve tried to buy my way out of the heartache and doubts It ain’t happening
I’m not gonna crawl in a hole Smoke my way through every memory of you It ain’t happening
I don’t have much hope but i got me this seed and it’s starting to grow I don’t have much faith but I’m pressing on toward what I can’t ignore—help me
I’m not gonna keep it inside Pretend I agree or like through my teeth It ain’t happening
I’m not gonna call it all off drown in my regrets you’re gonna see my strength yet—help me
Cause I don’t have much hope but i got me this seed and it’s starting to grow I don’t have much faith but I’m pressing on toward what I missed before—help me
I’m pressing on toward what I can’t ignore Help me
This song was written pretty much in two sittings. I am not a real banjo player, but the banjo was in my hands when the words came and I’m glad it was. This is the second draft of the song, recorded live into my phone on the deck of our place in Western North Carolina as the fog rolled in on the morning of June 2, 2023. Splint the rooster provided a few notes on this one too.
Here (with you)
I was out of my mind when I called you but I cried and I stuttered it out Fell asleep in my tears and when morning appeared slipped my boots on and stumbled out
The light fell on me like a blanket and peace was above and below In the whispering trees and the honking of geese and the treetops aglow
I never expected to be here ’cause I heard there’s no going back I never imagined I’d find you in the mountains after all these years
In my journal writing this month I continue to explore themes around accepting what is now and simply being present. I find that I spend too much time trying to recreate an image or a memory or to fulfill a story that promises to give me peace (while missing out on peace in the moment). How can I navigate the complex relationship between personal history and narratives, memory, and the now? I don’t have the answers yet (probably will never) but “Swimming,” in a sense, is a mindful acknowledgement of this conundrum.
This recording captures my intention well. I recorded the guitar part in the front porch in the evening with the stereo condenser mic that’s built into my recorder, so you can hear all of the wonderful ambient bug and street noises. For the vocals, I mixed a close mic and a room mic to further the “I’m right there” vibe. I may add to the arrangement and tweak some lyrics in the coming weeks, but I am happy to have dislodged the writing block and to be re-inspired for songwriting.
Swimming (in my mind)
If you convince me, convince me to leave, I’m not sure I’ll ever know what to believe. Was it there in those gold times before we quit? I don’t think I was dreaming, I’m still swimming in it.
I’m still swimming in my mind.
And if I convince you, convince you to stay, I’m not sure you’ll ever be here anyway. It was real in those gold times, before the wars. I’m still up to my earlobes and you are standing on shore.
In late June I started writing songs after a dry spell of many years. The melodies and the lyrics are just popping up and I am letting them, giving them a space to be alive and change and grow. I am tending to them as I would a poem or any writing, but the process is different—a fluid exchange between set ideas and improvisation. It often starts with a melody and a couplet or two, and then expands as the music takes shape, because the written words on the page don’t tell the whole story.
The Roller Coaster is the third “finished” song this month, the first recording I want to share. It all started out with four lines that didn’t make it to the finished work. Those (ultimately discarded) lines formed the framework of the melody, which gave birth to the first lines of the finished song (and the concept as a whole). It was written over the course of a week, and this recording (the third in the process) was made on July 31st.
Musically, I’m in a strange place. My ear is better than it’s ever been, and my vision for what I want to do is clear. But i’m out of practice, and it takes real work to get what I hear in my brain out onto the tape. When it happens successfully, It’s a true and absolute joy. One thing I’ve been surprised by is how much the skills i’ve learned over the past several years doing non-music projects have made me a better songwriter. Things like: working incrementally and iteratively, taking breaks when things aren’t working, putting time in when it feels right AND when it doesn’t, practicing, accepting where I’m at, Taking risks.
My goal is to release a record before the year is through, but right now I’m focused on shepherding these songs into the world. I have faith that they will all come together in a way that makes sense to me, and hope that I can form them into a work that resonates with others, too.
The scene of a hundred or more “rollercoaster” takes.
The Roller Coaster
I’ve been getting high again just to come back down. All the turns you took me in turned me inside out.
As we fall, that’s all there is— I can’t even see. At the top I’m losing it, I can barely breathe.
Feels like I am going to die as I strap on in to face the fear and feel what’s here, not what might have been.
