Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Okay, This Is Nuts...

This photo doesn't do it a lot of justice, but it has been snowing in Nashua pretty much non-stop for the last twenty-four hours. There is no cab service around here that I know of -- around 11 PM Monday, our dispatcher said the NPD confirmed that there was a statewide ban on travel come midnight, and that's likely to be in effect well into Wednesday. I did venture out on foot a few times after cashing out. This is probably the nastiest snowstorm I've seen since... the blizzard of '78? Do I really have to go that far back? Because this is brutal. This is fucking brutal. Not as brutal as what folks in the Buffalo area went through not too long ago, but still.

I can't wait for the opening day of baseball...

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Curious...

Why in the hell did I ever take up political blogging? If there is a god, He put me here to write music. I know I was built for music, god or no god involved. You know how?

I like paintings, sculptures, books, theatre, and so on. You take all those forms of human expression away from me, and I'll survive. But if you take music away...

I'll lay down, wither, and die. It's the one form of art I cannot live without.

Friday, January 23, 2015

"What"...

(Author's note: This song is the closest I ever came to contracting a revolutionary fever. And I think the lyrics touch on the fact that I have no stomach for that sort of behavior. Might explain why I like liberals but not progressives... -- JY)

The old Black Iron Prison is showing the strain of its age
That's about all I've ever known
The inmates are growing restless raising some Cain for a change
After all this time afraid and alone
The tale among the frail ones hints at deliverance from
This endless night we were born upon
We want to believe in heaven but something lesser must come
Tonight the dusk tomorrow the dawn

The sun reveals a palace by the lake
The people in the prison awake
The weary guards blink at what they see
The stirring of a long lost memory

Pastures mountains distant and fair
The sparkling river the morning glow
Birdsongs traces of smoke in the air
What came next I don't know

They said the palace will ignite a burning hell
And its fires will consume the gods themselves
Vengeance is a need that won't be ignored
And then
And then the warden will fall upon swords
And then we'll walk through those prison doors
And then my friend I don't know

The old Black Iron Prison is showing the strain of its age
That's about all I've ever known
The inmates are growing restless raising some Cain for a change
After all this time afraid and alone
The Black Iron Prison is only a stage
We are poppies and crosses row upon row

They said the palace will ignite a burning hell
And its fires will consume the gods themselves
Vengeance is a need that won't be ignored
And then
And then the warden will fall upon swords
And then we'll walk through those prison doors
And then my friend I don't know

The Black Iron Prison is only a stage
What comes next I don't know

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

"Cause Unknown"...

(Author's note: This song will be twenty years old come summertime. I played this one for my mom back in '95. It had an instrumental intro back then, and she had a basset hound named Barney. I remember Barney looking at the stereo speakers during that intro, and slowly backing away in apprehension. He obviously didn't like what he heard. I think that intro is one of the best pieces of music I ever wrote, but I feel bad about the way Barney reacted to it. He was a really nice dog. When the music you write alarms man's best friend, you start to wonder what inspires you... -- JY)

She'd close the blinds in the afternoon
And stay inside with the television on
She'd sit for hours staring at the moon
And talk of lovers and friends forever gone
A broken heart like hers won't mend
So it never breaks again

Every year she'd take the flag
Given to her in exchange for a man
Every time she'd ask aloud
"When is this gonna help me understand"
A broken heart like hers won't mend
So it never breaks again

Meanwhile many other sons
In other parts of the world
Born and bred for genocide
Terrorists and police
And their commanders live safe from harm
Collecting one gold coin for each cadet
Who pays the price for peace

She passed away without a moan
Was laid beside the other of her kind
The papers said she died alone
Cause unknown and nothing left behind
A broken heart like hers won't mend
So it never breaks again

Meanwhile many other sons
In other parts of the world
Born and bred for genocide
Terrorists and police
And their commanders live safe from harm
Collecting one gold coin for each.cadet
Who pays the price for peace

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Uh... Author's Note??

Looking at the lyrics to four songs I've written and posted here, I can't help asking one question: These lyrics are mine?

Actually, yeah, they are. And I like them. But... how in the world did I manage to come up with them?

Seriously. How does a surly and weary six-foot-two, two hundred forty-pound dumbass queerboy donkey loner like me even see anything admirable in these lyrics, let alone write them?

How does that work?

If I were a young adult, maybe I could explain it. I'm 44. It doesn't make sense...

"Square One"...

(Author's note: this is track seven from that Scenes From The Night Shift album from '95 I never released. It was inspired by, of all things, an issue of Dave Sim's Cerebus, the only comic book I ever followed for a dozen years just to see how it would end. Never heard of Cerebus? Google it... -- JY)

The life you led only yesterday
Just like the hopes and dreams that made it real
Is over
The rest will turn to dust and blow away
Leaving your story incomplete as you feel inside
All the same you've just begun
Volume two chapter one

Pages that take you back to a world you thought long gone
Back to the charred remains of a house you once called yours
Back to the drawing board to wonder what went wrong
Back to the sleepless night out of life and out of doors
Still you know you'll be walking in the sun
Once you go back to square one

When you see your friends again you can feel ashamed
When they catch your eye you can look away
You can close your ears when they call your name
Say goodbye or don't say goodbye
It's all okay 'cause either way the damage has been done
Take your piece and go back to square one

"Centralville"...

These abandoned houses
Once were castles men were proud of
Broken windows face in silence
A town that knows no love
An old man lights a cigarette and reconstructs the war with Japan
In 1945 his ship sailed home and he never sailed again

See these abandoned people
Searching through those empty boxes
Broken face windows in silence
No one seems to care or notice
Run the risk of sharing their lovelessness for lending them a hand
The old man looks ahead and shuffles by crushing his cigarette in the sand

"The Herd Mentality"...

(In 1995, I actually made an album. A concept album at that. Its title was Scenes From The Night Shift. The second track was "Life That Thrives Beyond The Sun." Years later, I changed the title to "The Herd Mentality." I never released the album. Still, this is one of the best songs I ever wrote... -- JY)

The sun sets and souls and shadows stretch along the train tracks
A new night begins as the scarlet evening fades to black
Streetlights mark the town
With the help of passing cars
Where there used to be just stars

Rat race routines leave a lot no rat's desired
While I'm warming up everybody else is hot and tired
Been a part of that before
And the herd mentality
It don't work for me

Right now people watch TV from their easy chairs and beds
Blind to life that thrives beyond the sun
In the morning they punch in and rent their services for chicken feed
Then punch out when the day is done
If they choose to live that way that's fine with me
But how much feed can one man stand
Giving away what heart and soul hadn't already been stolen
By avarice and Disneyland

A dark basement tavern erupts in ready violence
Nearby drunken teenage girls are mortgaging their innocence
It's amazing what goes down
And the boys in blue stand by
And nobody asks them why

The outbound train arrives
There's nothing more to see
It suggests I move along
I agree

Monday, January 19, 2015

"Everlasting Blue"...

(Author's note: It's about 7:30 AM, Tuesday the 20th. These are the lyrics to a song I started writing in... 2006? 2007? Can't remember. The music's structure has been mostly settled for some time; should I ever get around to making music again, this song wouldn't take long to lay down. But it wasn't until yesterday that I finally had the lyrics I wanted. Here they are... -- JY)

I set my heart on an end I won't reach
In response to a young raven's words
The awful sun wears me down like an ocean does a beach
Well the voice from the blue was just a bird's

Not a burn anywhere on my skin
Underneath fire runs through my veins
There's a cry at my moon and a rumble from my sin
For the grief breach of faith alone remains

Ain't that just the way you roll to cast your spell in the fashion of an anthem
Some of her was siren song unhinged
And most of him was passion without feelings
Are there any lows that you've laid bare beyond the selfish ways you planned them
Or me losing the use of my wings

Take a look at the wreck of this place
There are ghosts rising up from those stones
Telling us where to screw as they do without a trace
With a voice that we knew within our bones

No I didn't come here to invoke these ghosts or try to stir your conscience
No you didn't come here to make me grow up or soothe my savage feelings
If I give back to you this bitch that defines your whole existence
Will you give back to me my wings

I set a course for a port I won't reach
In response to a young raven's words
Believing in an anthem and this everlasting blue between me and the beach
When the voice from the blue was just a bird's
Yes the voice from the blue was just a bird's

Friday, January 16, 2015

"And I've Got One Two Three Four Five"....




And now some XTC. The good kind, not the stuff that can kill you. Enjoy...

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Music Time...







A little Richard Thompson -- one of the most undervalued guitarists in rock 'n roll history. Enjoy...