My Favorite Song Du Jour

It’s been a very long time since a song has made me literally drop my jaw and say “Wow” in the car.

“Johnny and June” by Heidi Newfield has done it. The song is fantastic, and her voice is unbelievable. Love it. Wow.

Fucking wow.

Back to My Roots (and Slicing Open My Eyeball)

The Reba concert at Caesar’s the Horseshoe Casino last night was, to put it simply, a life-altering experience. Nothing short of spiritual. It began with me accidentally poking myself in the eye with the corner of my ticket stub as I went to put on my sunglasses. And it still hurts like a bitch.

Some context:

It’s 1989. I’m seven years old, sitting between my parents in my Dad’s old orange truck, and a song comes on the radio. I listen for a moment, then turn to my mother and say “Mama, that’s a really pretty song.” So Mom buys the cassette tape for me and I play it over and over and over.

The song was Reba’s “Walk On.” It’s the first song I clearly remember hearing, other than my mother singing “You Are My Sunshine” to me as a child. And so, at the early age of seven, I became a rather devoted Reba McEntire fan.

Fast forward about seven years. Now 14 years old, I’m trying to make sense of my life, looking toward a future I don’t want. It hasn’t even occurred to me to go to college; it’s simply not an option. College is something that other people do, not people in Salem, and certainly not a girl. We go work in the factories. (Girls can work in factories, but can’t go to college). And one night, there’s a made-for-tv-movie on the television starring my favorite singer, titled after one of my favorite songs. And in this movie, the leading lady overcomes myriad obstacles to pursue her dream of graduating college and making a better life for herself and her family. And something shifts.

And six years later, I graduated college, despite the complete lack of support (financial or emotional) from my family, the grueling hours, the too-heavy courseloads and multiple jobs I needed to work to keep myself afloat during that time. Just so happened that, during those years, Reba launched a personal crusade as an education advocate, releasing a music video along the same theme as the television movie, multiple interviews and articles and speaking engagements. Just another cause for a celebrity to champion. But she kept me sane, kept me committed. The support that I so desperately needed from my family, I found in her instead.

Present Day, July 12, 2008:

Maybe that’s corny, cheesy, juvenile. But it’s real.

And aside from all that, my god, I love her music.

She did a lot of older songs last night, in what I guessed to be an attempt to appeal to her aging following (Brandi and I were among some of the youngest there last night) and I *LOVED* it! When she sang “Walk On,” I came unglued. Right back in that truck at seven years old. I got all warm and fuzzy inside.

Soon after, she ended with “Is There Life Out There?” and that same something that shifted in me at 14 shifted again. I actually teared up. Everyone was on their feet, crowd going nuts, etc. And soon the chanting and screaming began, demanding everyone’s all-time favorite Reba song. . .

And she was back, in her signature red dress, and gave the most commanding performance of “Fancy” that I’ve ever heard. We danced and clapped and sang; people were crying, hands raised like they were in church. It. Was. Amazing. I would have paid twice what I paid for two tickets just for the last 15 minutes of the show.

In the end, I ended up with a sliced eyeball, a $30 t-shirt, shattered vocal chords, and a renewed appreciation for a woman who unwittingly played a key part in turning me into the person I am today. And who unwittingly helped name my cat.

That’s a good night right there.

It Reminds Me of You

You know who you are.

Sometimes I swear I don’t know if I am coming or going
But you always say something without even knowing
That I am hanging onto your words with all my might
And it’s alright
I am alright
For one more night
Every day

Walk the Line Until it Blurs

I just heard this song on the radio this morning and it has stuck with me all day. It so perfectly echoes the most painful sentiments I’ve been entertaining recently. Even if you’re not a fan of country music, you gotta admit, this is pure poetry. Lyrics here.

Dreaming Fields

I’m not going through some strange Trisha Yearwood phase, I swear. But I have always loved her music, and our vocal range is about the same so I can usually sing along with her songs pretty well. I stumbled across her new CD in Borders tonight and picked it up. And such I have found the saddest song in the world. It reminds me of my father. I’ll post the lyrics, but you really need to listen to it to understand how haunting and horrible the melody is. There’s a very strong Celtic influence in the melody that just goes straight to the heart. (The rest of the CD is fabulous as well)

Dreaming Fields

Oh, the sun rolls down, big as a miracle
And fades from the Midwest Sky
And the corn and the trees wave in the breeze
As if to say goodbye
Oh, my grandfather stood right here as a younger man
In nineteen and forty three
And with the sweat and his tears, the rain and the years
He grew life from the soil and seed

Oh I’m goin’ down to the dreaming fields
But what will be my harvest now
Where every tear that falls on a memory
Feels like rain on the rusted plow
Rain on the rusted plow

And these fields they dream of wheat in the summertime
Grandchildren running free
And the bales of hay at the end of the day
And the scarecrow that just scared me

Now the houses they grow like weeds in a flower bed
This morning the silo fell
Seems the only way a man can live off the land these days
Is to buy and sell

So I’m goin’ down to the dreaming fields
But what will be my harvest now
Where every tear that falls on a memory
Feels like rain on the rusted plow
Rain on the rusted plow

Like the rain on the roof on the porch by the kitchen
Where as my grandmother sings, I can hear if I listen
Running down, running down to the end of the world I loved
This will be my harvest now

And the sun rolls down, big as a miracle
And fades in the Midwest sky
And the corn and the trees wave in the breeze
As if to say goodbye
As if to say goodbye

Different Drum

I’ve always loved and noticed this song when I hear it on the radio, but tonight I actually listened to the lyrics for the first time in a long while. I was surprised to find that it is uncannily, eerily, *exactly* the way I feel about life right now. It was a little strange, really.

Different Drum

written by Mike Nesmith

You and I travel to the beat of a different drum
Ah can’t you tell by the way I run
Every time you make eyes at me
Wo-oh

You cry and moan and say it will work out
But honey child I’ve got my doubts
You can’t see the forest for the trees

Oh don’t get me wrong
It’s not that I knock it
It’s just that I am not in the market
For a boy who wants to love only me

Yes, and I ain’t saying you ain’t pretty
All I’m saying is I’m not ready
For any person place or thing
To try and pull the reins in on me

So good-bye I’ll be leaving
I see no sense in this crying and grieving
We’ll both live a lot longer
If you live without me

Oh don’t get me wrong
It’s not that I knock it
It’s just that I am not in the market
For a boy who wants to love only me

Yes, and I ain’t saying you ain’t pretty
All I’m saying is I’m not ready
For any person place or thing
To try and pull the reins in on me

So good-bye I’ll be leaving
I see no sense in this crying and grieving
We’ll both live a lot longer
If you live without me

May It Be

May it be an evening star
Shines down upon you
May it be when darkness falls
Your heart will be true
You walk a lonely road
Oh! How far you are from home

Mornie utúlië (darkness has come)
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantië (darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now

May it be the shadows call
Will fly away
May it be you journey on
To light the day
When the night is overcome
You may rise to find the sun

Mornie utúlië (darkness has come)
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantië (darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now

A promise lives within you now

I’ve Got a Horn He Can Blow

I just got checked out by Maynard Ferguson’s lead trumpeter. The right-hand man of one of the greatest jazz musicians ever to have lived just CHECKED ME OUT. He shook my hand, looked at me, looked at my boobs, and told me “You look great!”

When one of the most successful and well known musicians in the jazz industry checks you out, that’s a good night. And a good night it has been.

In the words of Brad Tharp, “Thank you for everything, Mr. Ferguson. Thank you for everything.”

Heartbreaking

Listen to the song here.

Hinder
“Lips of an Angel”

Honey why are you calling me so late
It’s kinda hard to talk right now
Honey why are you crying is everything okay
I gotta whisper cause I can’t be too loud
Well, my girl’s in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on
It’s really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak
And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

It’s funny that you’re calling me tonight
And yes I’ve dreamt of you too
And does he know you’re talking to me
Will it start a fight
No I don’t think she has a clue
Well my girl’s in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on
It’s really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak
And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

It’s really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak
And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel
(And I never wanna say goodbye)
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel
Honey why are you calling me so late

Dreams be Dreams and Dreamers Never Lie

We all have dreams. Some big, some little, some a bit overly-ambitious, some silly. I have several. My silly dream is to go to Memphis with someone I love and dance down Beale Street like an idiot. I suppose this dream is influenced by the Marc Cohn song “Walking in Memphis.” It has been one of my favorites for as long as I can remember.

But I can’t just go to Memphis right now. It has to be during a point in my life when I’m on top of the world, when I can honestly walk with my feet ten feet of of Beale. I’ll go to The Hollywood and see the piano where Muriel played for so long, and if they ask me to do a little number, I’ll sing with all my might. And if anyone asks me if I’m a Christian, I’ll say “Man, I am tonight!” And then go walking in Memphis, and question whether I really feel the way I feel.

Someday. . . soon I’ll be out of debt. Soon I’ll have someone who loves me back. There’s a change a-coming, I can feel it. Soon, I’ll get to Memphis. And I’ll fly first class.