Stephen's
Thoughts on "That's How I Walk" July 17th, 2001
Colin Linden and I head down into the cool basement environs of
HallaMusic (Toronto) to record bed tracks for the new album. We'd
been talking about the upcoming sessions for several months, planning
and plotting, sketching out arrangements and making lists of potential
players. With the deadline fast approaching, I'd been sequestered
in my office/studio/shed writing like a fiend to get t e songs
in shape and ready to print to tape.
I walked down those steps from Peter St. for the first time, giddy
with anticipation, determined to savour every moment of what I
knew would be over in a flash. Time flies when you're having fun
and it gets on the Concorde with an overnight bag when you're
in the studio. Colin is a graduate of the school of spontaneous
recording. He likes to work quickly and 'fun' is a very big part
of the process. Every time I've walked into a recording studio
I've been excited, but this time I knew I was in for an exhilarating
ride. Over the course of that short week, we managed to flesh
out all of the 14 songs. Some of them were still a little naked
and some had three piece suits on, but all of them were walking
and talking and demanding attention.
Players included the usual suspects (Gary Craig - drums/percussion,
John Dymond - bass/tractor sounds, Richard Bell - organ/keyboards
and sardonic commentary) plus some players I hadn't worked with
before - Ben Riley - drums/percussion and Roberto Ochipinti -
upright bass. A stellar cast to be sure, and a nicer bunch of
characters you're not likely to meet. This record features a higher
ratio of co-writes than previous albums I've done. After writing
and playing 'solo' for most of my career, I've discovered the
joys of working with other writers and players including the likes
of Tom Wilson, Colin Cripps, Ian Thornley, Brian denHertog and
Glen Stace. Happily we were able to invite several of these pals
into the studio to contribute to the tracks. Colin Cripps came
in one humid afternoon and added some very beautiful, atmospheric
guitar to the track "Wailing Wall" which he and I had
written in early 2000, Ian Thornley overdubbed his signature guitar
sound and some very Pink Floyd-esque vocal warbles on our co-write
"Me and Mr. Blue" and wee Tommy Wilson (the all-Canadian-rounder)
arrived one evening late in the week with his trusty DJX keyboard
to unleash a deeply groovalicious loop on "That's How I Walk".
Other guests included my friend of many years Leonard Podolak
( I met Len when he was a mouthy 11 year old and somehow in the
intervening years he has become a righteous banjo player and now
fronts the band Scruj MacDuk), whose beautiful instrumental piece
"Meghan Heydon's" seemed perfect as a tag for my tune
"Black Silk Gown". Towards the end of this session,
Colin and I had a brain wave and immediately phoned Richard Underhill
and Kevin Turcotte. Next day, they cooly shuffled into the studio
with their horns and laid down some gorgeous and totally spontaneous
alto sax and trumpet parts on "Black Silk Gown and "Town
Called Jesus". As ever, it was a treat to watch all these
players cajole and wrestle the magic out of their instruments.
By the end of the week we had rough mixes of everything in our
hot little hands and were already looking forward to September
when we would reconvene for overdubbing and final mixes in Nashville.
August
was wall to wall festivals, many late nights and much laughter.
The summer festival circuit is often very grueling, but the slog
and lost baggage is made easier by the sheer fun of the events
themselves. I've been playing Canadian festivals since 1985, so
I know many of the volunteers, organisers and players as friends.
Every summer I feel like I'm running off to join the circus again.
September
blasted hot and smoggy on Guelph's wilted gardens with a full
watering ban in effect. After all the time away from the recording,
and having spent the last month broiling myself on workshop stages
across the country, I eagerly anticipated my long drive down to
Nashville to finish the overdubbing and start mixing in air conditioned
Tennessee. In the intervening weeks, Colin and I had many phone
conversations about where we wanted the mixes to go and what more
needed to be added to the tunes. That sense of anticipation is
hard to put into words...
One of the ideas we had been bandying about from the start was
the addition of a string quartet. Colin (who, with his wife Janice
Powers, had recently moved to Nashville) knew of an arranger,
a woman named Kris Wilkerson (check out her work on "Valentines
Day" Steve Earle's - Feel Alright). Kris had worked up an
arrangement for my tune "When My Baby Calls My Name"
and we had also asked John Whynot (a multitalented gent) to write
charts for "Showbiz" and "Glory Train". So
on September 10th, I got in my car and drove down through the
afternoon and into the dusk, arriving on Colin and Janice's doorstep
at about 11pm, disheveled and bent out of shape. I was knackered,
stiff, and badly in need of some 12 year old Scottish essential
oil (preferably the peaty kind). Glasses were raised, jokes were
told and after a tumbler or two I headed for the couch with plans
to hit the Pancake Pantry and Gruhn's Guitar Store before starting
overdubs later the next day
Of course, like everyone else within a mile of a TV, I awoke to
the unfathomable cruelty of Sept. 11th. Colin, Janice and I spent
much of the day glued to the networks... 'America Under Attack'...
live from New York... people covered in ash... The Twin Towers
falling to the ground again and again and again... America's New
War. When we stepped outside to try to get away from those pictures,
the streets of Nashville were deserted and Music Row was silent...
TVs propped up on crates of Coca Cola at the local Chevron station...
a short order cook at the Mojo Grill huddling with two waitresses
as they watched that plane fly into a fireball over and over,
over and over... Will any of us forget those images? Guitar overdubs
seemed impossible, maybe even obscene... That whole day is a bit
of a blur for me. I remember little things: like trying to reach
my Mother in Ireland to tell her that I was OK (she knew I was
in The States working on this record) or talking to my wife and
hearing the stories of Canadians in Vancouver, Toronto and Halifax
who drove out to the airports and opened their homes to strangers;
the Muslim guy who drove to Pearson Airport in Toronto with his
car full of Pizzas to give to any hungry travelers who had been
stranded... everybody trying to find something meaningful to do,
to come to grips with the reality and the awful truth of that
morning.
The next day we were stuck in that place of grief and horror,
looking for a little bit of blue sky. We finally found some respite
at Kris Wilkerson's house. We had driven over there to listen
to a keyboard mockup of the final string charts for 'When My Baby
Calls My Name'. Kris played us the parts she had written and I
was moved to tears. Everything was so 'loaded' if you know what
I mean, and the beauty of her arrangement loosened those knots.
Thanks Kris. Colin and I headed back to his house feeling a little
less choked and over the next day or two we worked hard to get
the rest of the overdubbing finished including some beautifully
subtle keyboard work from Janice.
Finally the mixing sessions arrived and we headed into New Reflections
to unpack the tapes and set up the gear. John Whynot who was scheduled
to conduct his string charts AND mix the record with us, was grounded
in LA... no flights... no Greyhounds...
After debating for the past three days, he had decided, at the
last minute, to rent a car and drive it straight through - LA
to Nashville - in one shot. He arrived at the studio grinning
and goofy with wheel fatigue and a migraine, over 36 hours of
driving under his belt. We'd already mixed one tune but he downed
two Tylenol, sat down at the board and bettered our mix... bastard!
Next day we recorded all three string charts in one three hour
session... fabulous players. I was pretty much gob smacked for
the whole thing. John, Colin, Janice and I sat behind the control
room glass, grinning like idiots, as Kris and her quartet (two
violins, viola and cello ) draped those arrangements over my songs
like fine, clean linen . I can't describe the feeling of peace
and beauty that the music created amidst the televised carnage
of that week... a profound feeling of joy I will never forget.
Mixing is mixing is mixing, it's a bit like a game of lawn bowling...
excruciating, tedious and frustrating to the uninvolved observer
- utterly impossible to tear yourself away from if you're playing.
Listening to all the parts coalesce, mistakes become serendipitous
treasures, and painstakingly laboured over ideas are tossed overboard
in a heartbeat. It's intense and emotionally demanding, but there
are few things I'd rather do when I'm in the thick of it. Colin
and John are magicians, or maybe studio alchemists and the shared
humour gets hysterical and weird. We spent a lot of time talking
backwards into the computer and laughing our guts out over some
really stupid shit. Hours fly by. Minutes crawl... like insects.
See if you can picture this: Paper bags full of gnawed ribs and
coleslaw lying around in the lounge next to a tray of warm Krispy
Kremes (my spell check suggests Crispy Crimes! Hah!) - Endless
cups of thick foamed mud from Bongo Java and The Evil Empire....
stepping outside into the warm Nashville night to phone home...
"yeah it's going well darlin".... jumping back inside....
"That sounds FAAAHKIN' COOL!!!!"... "what time
is it? Are you guys hungry?"... "Wow, the bass rocks
now... Johnny's driving the tractor!" "That organ part
is spooky, that's why we call him Diiiiiiiiick!" "Should
we put the snare through Amp Farm?" "Make me sound like
Cher....Ooooooh my Gawd" ...
Get the picture? It goes on like this for days, then it's over
and you crash into bed (or a couch) at some ungodly hour, completely
bereft of energy and objectivity. This is where the highs get
very high and the lows are bottom of the barrel. With the lions
share of the mixing done, I left Nashville on the 21st, headed
north to Bloomington Indiana and my last festival of the summer.
Amazingly, The Lotus Festival was going ahead despite many overseas-artist
cancellations. I was glad of the chance to climb out of my head
and do some live playing and determined not to listen to the mixes
for at least 24 hours... I lasted about two, before nervously
shoving the CD into the slot and cranking the volume... over the
road noise, everything sounded terrible... so much for willpower...
so much for objectivity!
On Sept. 25th I flew back to Nashville and then on to Austin (Texas)
with Colin and Janice, for the last bit of recording. Shawn Colvin,
a songwriter I'd met a few times over the years and someone I
admire a great deal, had graciously agreed to sing on a tune.
So we flew out to her turf for the session. After some smoked
brisket at The Iron Works the night before, Colin and I headed
to Cedar Creek Studios - an ancient ranch house sitting alone
on 7acres of scrub in the heart of South Austin's suburbs. Train
tracks roll by a hundred yards from the control room and a low
rumble occasionally permeates the thick stone walls (a good rumble!).
The old Neve recording console used to reside in Graceland and
I'm told that Elvis recorded his last three albums through those
same pots and wires. Heavy! The studio walls are lined with old
vinyl and CDs from past projects and there, smack dab in the middle,
are three Bill Hicks recordings... I'm a huge fan of Bill Hicks,
(a brilliant comedian who died of cancer in the early 90's, way
ahead of his time). Having echoes of Elvis and Hicks in the studio
gives me goose bumps. I'm itching to hear Shawn sing over my tune,
pacing about the studio, too wired to sit still. She arrives and
we roll tape. She's relaxed, delightful and funny. My anxiety
dissolves and Shawn sings like a bird. Two hours later, were done,
having spent the last hour laughing, telling stories and listening
to playback. I'm thrilled with the result, and certain that the
song had risen several notches. Happy and full of Stubbs BBQ (Ladies
and Gentlemen, I'm a cook!) Colin, Janice and I board the flight
back to Nashville.
That final day of mixing is a bit of a blur. After transferring
Shawn's parts from the slave tapes, we quickly get a great mix
for "Finest Kind" before moving on to remixes of "Showbiz"
and "Town Called Jesus". More silliness and hilarity...
Colin's face gets all red when he laughs... I drink so much coffee
I start shivering and sweating at the same time... more Crispy
Crimes... everybody's completely exhausted... the assistant engineer
snores softly out in the lounge and suddenly it's 7.30 am. We've
been mixing for 20 hours... our last dinner break is ancient history...
John's bummed because the Yankees lost and it's definitely time
to pack it in. We stumble out under a milky blue sky and the sun
just coming up, pile into the rental and head off to The Pantry
for one last breakfast (cornmeal pancakes please!).
One of the last stages of making a record is deciding on the final
song sequence. This task has become easier now that we can all
burn CDs on home computers, so as soon as I get back to Guelph,
I load the final mixes into my wife's iMac and begin trying out
different sequences. Just like every other part of the process,
the perfect sequence is very subjective . The only real guide
is your gut and, of course, everybody involved has strong opinions.
More long conversations back and forth between Guelph, Nashville
and Toronto. What kind of a vibe do I want to start the record
with? How can I pull the listener in? Am I telling a story here
and is there a thread linking the songs? Gradually a promising
sequence starts to take shape. Once we're all convinced that this
is the one, John Whynot gets the go ahead to start mastering.
Mastering is the stage of recording that I know the least about.
I understand the basic concept of putting the songs together as
one piece, making final decisions on fade-outs, gaps between songs,
overall equalisation, levels etc... It is perhaps the subtlest
part of the process and arguably one of the most crucial. Poorly
recorded records can be salvaged in mastering and vice versa.
John's first pass is more of a warm up than a final master. A
test CD arrives by courier, I jump in the car and drive around
Guelph for the next few days listening intently. Several e-mails
later and John's next pass is right on the money. The recording
is essentially done and now all that's left is to agonise over
all the decisions that were made (hindsight is always 20/20) and
start to turn my focus to the artwork.
As usual, Michael Wrycraft is my first and only choice for art
director. Michael is one of those people who like to get into
the job as early on in the process as possible. I'd been feeding
him little bits, rough mixes, early bed tracks etc. at each stage
of the recording process so when we were ready for him to start
working on the artwork, he was very familiar with the material
and eager to get at it. I love working with Michael, he's a very
good friend and one of the most creative people I know. Funny
as all get out, (off the wall does not really capture the essence
of the man) and a real music lover, who approaches his work in
much the same way that I approach song writing. Michael's work
is a mixture of pure instinct/inspiration coupled with vast experience,
a high level of graphic skills and some freaky computer shit.
We met several times, over coffee, over the phone and over at
his place, pulling out old album covers, looking at photographs,
discussing colours, fonts, and blah, blah, blah. Some of this
I find fascinating whilst some of it bores me to sleep, but all
of it matters and you ignore the small details at your peril.
I've spent hours looking for typos and agonising over which friends
I forgot to thank in the credits... it takes forever it seems.
Once we began discussing photographers for the booklet, Michael
suggested Margaret Malandruccolo, a Toronto photgrapher, who has
done some stunning work. Her 'book' (examples of her photographs)
was breathtaking, and in particular her use of shadows/light and
weird focusing (technical term!) really knocked me out and made
me think that she'd be perfect for the 'look' of this record.
I spent a day with Margaret and her assistants posing my ass off,
perfecting my own version of the 'Blue Steel' look (see the film
Zoolander!). I'm not the most comfortable photographic subject
and so I often end up with photographs of a guy who looks vaguely
uncomfortable, but Margaret seemed to get something out of me
that I found refreshingly different, comfortable, even confident.
After all the clothing changes, fussing with my hair and wandering
around the alleys of Toronto trying desperately to look nonchalant
whilst the shutter clicked, I was really happy with the results.
Even better, the cover shot was immediately obvious. I handed
everything to Michael and waited for his computer to start spewing
out the booklet, the final piece of the puzzle.
So there it is, 'That's How I Walk', another recording, another
kick at the can, another chance to capture something special on
tape.
And when it's all said and done? You just let go and move on to
the next thing.
Like the Way You Said
(Stephen Fearing /2001/© Fearing & Loathing Music)
Hold me like the way that you said
Not like you were holding another
Take me to the foot of your bed
And we will find our way over in the morning
Find our way over in the morning
Remember when I said I was sorry?
Remember when I made you cry?
Remember when the lights went out?
We were looking for a little bit of blue sky
Looking for a little bit of blue sky
Hold me like the way that you said
Not like you were holding another
Take me to the foot of your bed
And we will find our way over in the morning
Find our way over in the morning
Not a stolen moment passes
Not a day goes creeping by
Watch the world behind dark glasses
Looking for a little bit of blue sky
Looking for a little bit of blue sky
All my friends are looking thinner
All my friends got an axe to grind
Making music with the sinners
and looking for a blue sky
Looking for a blue sky
Hold me like the way that you said
Not like you were holding another
Take me to the foot of your bed
And we will find our way over in the morning
Find our way over in the morning
Find our way over in the morning
The Finest Kind
(Stephen Fearing/Tom Wilson - 2001/© Fearing & Loathing Music/Sony Music)
I've been dumped, I've been sore
Hard to get and then I got what for
I bought the ring, but we fell apart
She bent my mind, She broke my heart
With one love letter, the finest of the 'Dear John' kind
I picked my bones on every stage
When singing songs was all the rage
I sold my back when I needed cash
I lost my car when they found my stash
Cuffed and collared by the Governments finest kind
Cruel winds are always blowing colder
And a hard rain is never far behind
So come on darlin', rest your head upon the shoulder
Of the finest kind, the finest kind
The finest of the finest kind
I'm self afflicted, life addicted
I paid my money, but I lost my ticket
I rolled the stones and I walked the blues
I stretched my stride, I trimmed my fuse
When I went running with the finest of the traveling kind
Cruel winds are always blowing colder
And a hard rain is never far behind
Come on darlin', rest your head upon the shoulder
Of the finest kind, the finest kind
The finest of the finest kind
Town Called Jesus
(Stephen Fearing /2001/© Fearing & Loathing Music)
Our founding fathers built this town
And they named it for God's Son
On Sundays, it was fine clothes for everyone
But on Mondays when the gloves came off
There was always hell to pay
On the other side of Jesus, nearly half a world away
you and me, we learned to sing
As soon as we could run
We left that town like buckshot from a gun
and we flew with our ambitions
and our faded black berets
To the other side of Jesus, nearly half a world away
Money comes and money goes like water through my hands
Money spills like blood upon the land
Money finds the sacred place and rolls the stone away
Concrete in the fields, and the Northern Lights are fading
And there's something I've been looking for
On every hungry street
Older than the stone beneath my feet
a secret, waiting for a kid
To dig it from the clay
On the other side of Jesus, nearly half a world away
Money comes and money goes like water through my hands
Money spills like blood upon the land
Money finds the sacred place and rolls the stone away
Concrete in the fields, and the Northern Lights are fading
And there's something I've been looking for
On every hungry street
Older than the stone beneath my feet
a secret, waiting for a kid
To dig it from the clay
Like the long lost bones of Jesus, nearly half a world away
On the other side of Jesus, nearly half a world away
Showbiz
(Stephen Fearing/2001/© Fearing & Loathing Music)
Your pretty face
Grin Like a thief
Your eyes are wide above the whitest teeth
I recognise you
From the lives we live
Showbiz
Breaking the bread
Drinking the wine
Roll out our secrets like a ball of twine
So if we get lost
Find our way back, to this
Showbiz
We sink like pennies in the cool blue of the moment
And for a moment, wish to never rise again
Forget your cares
Forget your kids
Showbiz
I will not help you
You won’t save me
No points awarded for stupidity
I was hers
You were his
And that's showbiz
I was hers
You were his
That's showbiz
Showbiz
On The Great Divide
(Stephen Fearing/Glen Stace - 2001 © Fearing & Loathing Music/Glen Stoeze)
Standing at the crossing
Listening to the bell
Watch the people rushing
Where to? I can't tell
A woman stops beside me
One eye swollen shut
One eye on the future
Stepping in the wheel ruts
It's a long train, everybody has to ride
On a two lane, riding on The Great Divide
It’s a long train and a fast ride
It hasn’t changed much since the last time
It’s a long train
Once when I was waiting
Friend of mine rolled by
Grinning as he passed me
Smile around his eyes
But I could not speak to him
Even though I tried
So give my love to Jesse
Little diamond eyes
It’s a long train, everybody has to ride
On a two lane, riding on The Great Divide
It’s a long train and a fast ride
It hasn’t changed much since the last time
It’s a long train
And when I rise, it’s coffee, tea, or cigarettes
Some mornings, it’s like rising from the dead
Old songs slipping through the sheets
Tumbling in my head
Places I remember
Faces I forget
It’s a long train, everybody has to ride
On a two lane, riding on The Great Divide
It’s a long train and a fast ride
It hasn’t changed much since the last time
It’s a long train
Me and Mr. Blue
(Stephen Fearing & Ian Thornley/2001/© Fearing & Loathing Music / BGG Music Canada)
I fell asleep on a rooftop
I woke up halfway down
In my parachute above the open ground
Nobody could hear me
Nobody could see
Changes always happen best in privacy
At least I’m going somewhere
So this is nothing new
Oh, he just comes out of nowhere
Next thing I know it’s me and Mr. Blue
Hungry as a priest
I was young and I was tired
All strung out on promises like razor wire
Nobody came near me
And there were more of them
Flipping out the coin but never wishing again
Wishing again
At least I’m going somewhere
So this is nothing new
Oh, he just comes out of nowhere
Next thing I know it’s me and Mr. Blue
I fell asleep on a subway
I woke up surrounded
A thousand faces riding on the underground
Underneath the city
And up out of the night
to watch the morning shutting down the streetlights
Shutting down the streetlights
At least I’m going somewhere
So this is nothing new
Oh, he just comes out of nowhere
Next thing I know it’s me and Mr. Blue
Rave On Captain
(Stephen Fearing - 2001/© Fearing & Loathing Music)
Rave on captain sir, will you wear the crown?
The votes were counted sleight of hand and you won the round
Standing present and correct
To coronate The King elect
We bend the knee, we show respect
To the new chief saboteur
Rave on for the masses as you lead the way
Rave on for the apathy that took the day
Either one or else the other
Tweedledum or Tweedledumber
March in circles to the same drummer
And it all becomes a blur
Rave on Captain, oh my Captain Sir
Rave on for the lawyer and the plain clothes cop
Rave unto the nation of the doughnut shop
News of you and your secretary
More than strictly necessary
The loudmouths and the mercenaries
We know who they were
Rave on Captain, oh my Captain Sir
Based on what you are and who you were it was a long shot
The high priest of the entrepreneurs it was a long shot
another shooting star thrust at the world it was a long shot
A long shot
Rave on for the drinker living hand to mouth
Rave on for the factories that headed south
holding court in secrecy
The bankrupt play monopoly
No mercy, no democracy
and no-one breathe a word
Rave on Captain, oh my Captain Sir
Based on what you are and who you were it was a long shot
The high priest of the entrepreneurs it was a long shot
another shooting star thrust at the world it was a long shot
A long shot
Rave on
Rave on
When My Baby Calls My Name
(Stephen Fearing - 2001/©Fearing & Loathing Music)
All the anger fades away
When my baby calls my name
Darkness from the breaking day
When my baby calls my name
Fortunes rise and fortunes fall
Every gambler loves the game
I turn my back on them all
When my baby calls my name
When the flood is rising
And the bills come, thick as rain
Step inside, out of the cold
When my baby calls my name
And all the pretty horses
Take their turn around the pen
and the old brass shines
All the fallen riders
Hope to climb back on again
‘Cause they might hang on this time.
In the dance halls and the bars
Or in the pearly morning light
Some make love and some make war
kiss their little dreams goodnight
Passions rise and passions fall
And nobody’s to blame
But I don’t miss those days at all
When my baby calls my name
When my baby calls my name
That’s How I Walk
(Stephen Fearing/Tom Wilson - 2001/© Fearing & Loathing Music/Sony Music)
Here comes the longest night
Here comes the rain
Here comes the longest night
And the love for you that’ll never come back
Love for you that’ll never come back
That’s how I walk all over this world
It’s been the roughest ride
it’s been a trip
It’s been the roughest ride
That I went down, I never came back
I went down and I never came back
That’s how I walk all over this world
That’s how I walk
That’s how I walk
Dreamed about my credit cards
Dreamed about my kids
Dreamed about my neighbours
and when I woke up, I never looked back
I woke up and I never looked back
That’s how I walk all over this world
Hands on the telephone
I lost my grip
Took back the things I said
But they left my mouth and they never came back
left my mouth and they never came back
That’s how I walk all over this world
That’s how I walk
That’s how I walk
That’s how I walk
That’s how I walk
Walk all over this world
Glory Train
(Stephen Fearing/Brian DenHertog - 2001/© Fearing & Loathing Music/Tidal Action music)
I am restless tonight
Body’s just a bag of bones
And a cheap suit feels
Like a poor man’s home
Far away, a whistle blows
and a dog slips it’s chains
Waiting, waiting for the glory train.
Feel the air
Crawl across your skin
The last lick of night
Shadow’s lingering
Morning drags itself to town
Spreading like a stain
I’m sick of waiting, waiting for the glory train
Glory train
In the landscape of our own invention
Ride the rails
Of promises and good intentions
Good intentions
I found a picture
See the way we used to be?
Do you remember
How your eyes would look at me?
Making love into the night
And the neighbours would complain
We were waiting, waiting for the glory train
Glory train
In the landscape of our own invention
Ride the rails
Of promises and good intentions
Good intentions
Wailing Wall
(Stephen Fearing / Colin Cripps - 2001/© Fearing & Loathing Music / BGG Music Canada / peermusic Canada Inc.)
Before the night is over, I will have you down
Hold you there, 'till everything comes clear
'Cause you look so much like me
and it's hard for me to see
Who's holding who
But isn't that what we do?
The colours of this room never change
The fragile friends that come and go
and it's harder to reveal
So we shut our eyes and steal again
From what we know
I wish I could let it go
You were my wailing wall
My endless fascination
The voice of inspiration in an empty hall
You were my wailing wall
When the nights would never end
Twisting closer to the bend where the lonely fall
You were my wailing wall
Please don't get too sentimental, the past is just the past
Now I have to live from day to day
Still, I've come to see the healer
From the back door of the dealer
Where the broken souls
Get lost in the undertow
You were my wailing wall
My endless fascination
The voice of inspiration in an empty hall
You were my wailing wall
When the nights would never end
Twisting closer to the bend where the lonely fall
You were my wailing wall
Flipping through the names
Of the friends I haven't burned
Pages fall like leaves
From the lessons never learned
Secrets only breathe
If you hold them to your chest
And nothing smells like fear
Nothing suffers like regret
You were my wailing wall
My endless fascination
The voice of inspiration in an empty hall
You were my wailing wall
When the nights would never end
Twisting closer to the bend where the lonely fall
You were my wailing wall
You were my wailing wall
When the nights would never end
Twisting closer to the bend where the lonely fall
You were my wailing wall
My wailing wall
Black Silk Gown
(Stephen Fearing/2001/© Fearing & Loathing Music)
Driving through to midnight between the rumble strips
Never let your promises get too far from your lips
‘Cause the night is shot with diamonds
Above these dark New England towns
And the highway drawn beneath me like a black silk gown
Baby’s on the west coast by the San Francisco bay
Clear across the continent, a couple days away
Where the Golden Gate is painted every time the sun goes down
And the ocean pools around her like a black silk gown
Oh aren’t we riding now, riding, you and me
Oh aren’t we riding now, side by side, you and me?
If I pull myself together, push a little further on
I might stop and get some rest until the weariness has gone
But I don’t know how to reach you and the night is coming down
And the darkness folds around me like a black silk gown
Oh aren’t we riding now, riding, you and me
Oh aren’t we riding now, side by side, you and me?
Driving through to midnight between the rumble strips
Never let your promises get too far from your lips
‘Cause the night is shot with diamonds
Above these dark New England towns
And the highway drawn beneath me like a black silk gown
The Parting Glass
(Trad. Arr Stephen Fearing/2001/© Fearing & Loathing Music)
Oh all the money that e'r I had,
I spent it in good company
And all the harm that e'r I've done,
Alas it was to none but me
and all I've done, for want of wit
to memory now, I can't recall
So fill for me the parting glass
Goodnight, and joy be with you all
Oh all the friends that e'r I had
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