Words Between Wake and Sleep
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Words between Wake and sleep The Song Lyrics Of Patrick Storedahl 1 For Connie, Kiefer, and Riley It isn’t much; however, it is all I’ve done. Love you all. 2 Table of Contents Introduction 4 Trike 5 Spoke 12 Some Horrendous Joke 22 The Hedonistic Rituals of the Unemployed 32 Ink Block Fingerprint 46 Some More 78 Years Later (Songs written or recorded after 2004) Kalama Tea 107 Eating Louisiana 116 The Whole Year Inn 131 Honey, Won’t You Spare Some Bills 158 Songs Not Recorded…Yet 182 Songs by Page 232 3 I am lazy and I like to play with small meaningless tasks. Songwriting has afforded me the opportunity to dabble at both of these. Though I consider the writing of music and words as two different tasks, they are both similar in the sense that they require (at least for me) obsessive play. Perhaps that is why some writing teams (such as George and Ira Gershwin) divided the tasks. Also if one looks at Lennon and McCartney, it has been long thought that Lennon was the more complex lyricist and McCartney the more complex composer. That is not to say that I would consider myself in the same league as John, Paul, George and Ira, it is a simple example to demonstrate the difference in words and music. My life has two parts: my dad and music. Though I was aware of some music while my dad was alive, and even played some guitar and clarinet, it was not a focus. After he died, I made a big right turn and became obsessed with music, mostly rock and roll. Since then I have taken some small detours such as college, marriage, and kids, but music has always been there. Musically, I consider myself an adequate musician and I seem to have the capability to play or sing something that benefits a piece of music. I find it easy to play both other people’s songs and write my own songs, not from a technical playing standpoint, but rather from an ability to see the whole of the song. That is, what seems to come easy to me is the ability to quickly analyze and develop both song forms and harmonic structures. This ability also allows me to see ways of playing with these forms and structures, and then when writing to mold them into something unique, unorthodox, or in the very least, fun. A lyric is more of an exercise in fun than accuracy because the point of a lyric is to be sung and perhaps to make someone think or at least ask the question, “What in the hell did he just sing?” With this in mind, accuracy can sometimes make a song stagnant and more of a report than a song. Not that I have always succeeded in this, but a few things that I have done in the past are to change genders of real people, change how a word is used, or use incorrect grammar and yes, I have even made up a few words along the way. Another misconception that some people have about songwriting is that inspiration has to come from the heart and be personal. As for me, though I use my life as inspiration, when it is time to write a song I do not feel a need to tell the story as fact. I often use a lot situations (not all related) to make a lyric complete. The lyrics contained in this book may or may not be good, but as the writer I feel that I am sometimes too close to the work to decide if something is good or not; however, the songs that have never been recorded I am sure that I left behind simply because of a lyric being lame. I guess that time kind of weeds out the runts, though that is not to say that everything I have recorded has been great either…they just stuck. In short, I just try to have fun with words and play with the language; therefore, good or bad, here are some words from my life that I recorded and some I had forgotten about or left behind. I tried not to repeat parts such as choruses unless there was a change. -2003 4 5 6 Trike Just Plain Bill 1991 First Release This was released as a cassette tape only and was recorded on 4-track cassette in the days when Just Plain Bill was a three piece band including Ted Clark, Douglas Blum and myself. Some of the songs were then rerecorded over the years and will be included with the lyrics on the CD in which they appeared. These few never went any further than this project. In some, if not most cases, that was probably for the best. 7 Anything Kiss of Judas, breath of cancer Daddy’s girl is on the prowl Starboard hanging now The tide is rising like a gull Mountain of fear, vision of awe Feel the earthquake on my ear Thought you were Georgia O’Keefe in the desert If God could swim tell me what he’d be Thought you were Jack Kerouac Beat the sea beat the surf Thought you were Samuel Longhorne Clemens writing a tale I saw God dying out at sea I can’t tell you anything I can’t tell you anything I can’t tell you anything, because you already know Just a whisper now could make me smile Maybe you should go now Kiss of friendship, kiss of God Kiss-off, daddy’s girl is on the prowl I can’t tell you anything I can’t tell you anything I don’t want to listen to you 8 Get out of the Rain Rain is falling down…If you only try to open up your eyes “Sunshine’s always lying on my face,” is what you said to me Sometimes I think you’ve lost your mind Wrap yourself in latex or armor and coat your tongue with innocence But who said Heaven’s really white? I can still remember that house when I was young When all those buoys made of glass were falling down Rain is falling down like a blanket on your face, you can’t see anything You’re running blindly through your life, thinking everything’s alright If you would only try, only try to open up your eyes Maybe you would get out of the rain “Sunshine’s always lying on my face,” is what you said to him Sometimes I think that you’re as crazy as the dress you’re wearing Wrap yourself in white tonight and climb up on your Silver I hope your savior is a small young girl of color What a crazy thing to do with your mouth Hey, hey, hey, what a crazy thing to do with your mouth 9 Length of Money The pen tattoos on their arms seemed to speak to me Some nicotine-lip said you’d gone away All those faces looked like puppets As they pushed the buttons of the arcade Pretty girls come running out of the rain Voices of the President, Efferdent, Scope, the Pope To beat the cold and wipe the stains from their doubt TV evangelists, can you imagine this?-What are they talking about? Let’s get out Some could be a movie star, have a career and a domestic car Housewife blues or a Playboy bunny It’s always the length of money that counts No one on the streets for the holiday I saw a poster with a smile and your face I never noticed how much the cloth glitters Until I had the guts to take a taste Pretty girls come running out of the rain They’ll gag you, bag you, snag you by the balls, tie you up and take all your money To beat the cold and wipe the stains from their doubt Buy this, sell that, get fat, cardiac victim get slim they’ll chew you up and then they’ll spit you out Capital is corporate gender slang It’s God’s phallic sign And when you run out of things to say You save face with plastic lies I saw you on the boulevard with a brand new Rolls Kind of expensive for a toy There was a pretty girl beside you to prove you’re all boy Remember when we used to listen to Pink Floyd…I still do Pretty girls come running out of the rain Stepping out of my front door, I wonder what that is on my lawn To beat the cold and wipe the stains from their doubt Burning, turning the grass to a different hue, could it maybe be the fallout…Or is it Starsky and Hutch? Some could be a movie star, have a career and a domestic car Housewife blues or a Playboy bunny It’s always the length of money that counts 10 Radio K.U.G.S. Future’s blast, songs of the past Classical and funk on a list Turn your dial and listen for awhile To psychology with a twist It’s the beat of a new collegiate With news of dorm-grown contraband So take a vacation from the synthetic stations and turn to 88.3 Bellingham Coming across the airways in the voices of peers And adding variety to the selection of beers Radio, Radio K.U.G.S. Wave of the future, hint of culture Click the bricks of Red Square Portable waves pass the fountain Up the mountain and Fairhaven’s summer fair It’s the beat of a new collegiate With songs of new and old bands So take a vacation from the synthetic stations and turn to 88.3 Bellingham Coming across the airways, beating off the go-goes And those ugly gold chains of the spank slut gigolos Radio, Radio K.U.G.S.