10/52 – Darkroom

God is a businessman, and every product goes obsolete;
Cut the strings that tie to a simple idea that’s hard to keep.

Death and leaving – that seems to cover the subject matter of nearly every song I’ve written in recent memory. I mentioned that fact one Sunday, while playing at the Fish Market, and I realized that most of the covers I play fit that bill as well.

I don’t plan on dying. “Darkroom” is about not trusting death or god or anybody to decide when I go. Listen to it loud.

God if it’s all the same to you,
just leave me be to my devices;
Cut the strings that tie to you,
and leave my soul to pay the prices.

It’s the first song recorded in my new studio/laundry room here in Montreal. There’s a surprising energy to that room, and I’m certainly warming up to it. I wish I had my full arsenal with me. I’ll try to keep the textures interesting despite the limitations – there’s no shortage of material, I’ve made at least five unused demoes in the last two weeks.

Enjoy!

-dgh

2/52 – The Lie

This week’s tune is a ballad. It’s fairly straight-forward, musically, except for the complex fugal passages between the verses. Juxtaposing opposites is fun and all, but I found my weekend saturated with rehearsal time… The important part is that I’m really very fond of this song. Hopefully it doesn’t turn out to be my favorite of all 52, that would be rather anti-climatic.

Arrangements for this week’s song were fleshed out on the Guitulele – a classical guitar strung and tuned like a ukulele – and while that particular instrument got shoved out of the final line-up like Pepsi at a coke party, it will more than likely return with a vengeance. I also got a hold of a kick pedal, so expect a rocker some time soon.

In other news, last night Seand Gorman, tin whistle extraordinaire, was discussing how much he likes reading lyrics. Therefore:

(Against Forgetting, or How to Survive) The Lie

Whittle away at the bones of the dead
After the bombs have peeled them clean and died away
Tie them to a string around your neck, where they’ll be seen
By all of the ghosts that await, oh, to leave.

Walk down to a river running dry or not at all
A man has made his bed where the water used to be
He’s staring straight ahead, as if it were the only way out
While you’re staring at the sky, as if there were someone staring back.

“Where were you,” he said, “when the war came like a drought?”
you: “I was in no one place when the water trickled away,
It rose up from the land and the world turned to bad.” He said,
“Then change it back,” as if his word would do just that.

“Before the bombs came pouring down like a rain
There came a word, the war had ended, the drought was gone.”
“But indeed it had, by a word, by that very lie
Only we had the luck to survive.”

And finally, hey look I’m on video:
Separatist Parade excerpt
Shot by Justin Bondy, though I didn’t know it at the time.

-dgh