Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Another Country
Or I take a trip. Minneapolis, say, frequent flyer miles and a place to stay, how can we not go? We being my girlfriend and I. The place to stay being her sister and brother-in-law's house. They have two children, a ten-month-old and a four-year-old.
We mostly just hang around the house there--people are sick there--and I play around on the guitar some. The guitar being the travel guitar I travel with sometimes these days. My girlfriend's brother-in-law, who gets enthusiastic sometimes, says I have a beautiful voice. My girlfriend points out the strangeness of that, assures me it's not true. "I like your voice," she says. "I really do. But I'd never say it's beautiful."
On the plane back I start a geographic song, a country one. Thinking about it, I realize there are songs about many southern cities and states. West Virginia. (Almost Heaven.) Atlanta. (I remember a 70's rock song, anyway.) Georgia (On My Mind). Dallas. (A Joe Ely one.) North Carolina. (Carolina on My Mind). Memphis (Take Me Back To Memphis, an old one). On a country station I recently caught "Paint Me a Birmingham," which violates every rule of good writing that I know. So of course now it's a hit for two artists.
On the plane I struggle a while, come up with an idea for a place that may not have been used yet. I'm writing the lyrics on a personal digital assistant thingee, and before landing the flight attendant tells us to turn off electronic devices. I turn off the PDA, and by the time we're allowed to use our devices I've lost interest in the song. The next morning on the subway I play with it a bit more. It's crap so far, but it has possibilities. And isn't that what keeps all of us going, all the time--sure, things aren't so great, but maybe, right around the next corner, they will be?
This philosophizing meaning: I need sleep.
We mostly just hang around the house there--people are sick there--and I play around on the guitar some. The guitar being the travel guitar I travel with sometimes these days. My girlfriend's brother-in-law, who gets enthusiastic sometimes, says I have a beautiful voice. My girlfriend points out the strangeness of that, assures me it's not true. "I like your voice," she says. "I really do. But I'd never say it's beautiful."
On the plane back I start a geographic song, a country one. Thinking about it, I realize there are songs about many southern cities and states. West Virginia. (Almost Heaven.) Atlanta. (I remember a 70's rock song, anyway.) Georgia (On My Mind). Dallas. (A Joe Ely one.) North Carolina. (Carolina on My Mind). Memphis (Take Me Back To Memphis, an old one). On a country station I recently caught "Paint Me a Birmingham," which violates every rule of good writing that I know. So of course now it's a hit for two artists.
On the plane I struggle a while, come up with an idea for a place that may not have been used yet. I'm writing the lyrics on a personal digital assistant thingee, and before landing the flight attendant tells us to turn off electronic devices. I turn off the PDA, and by the time we're allowed to use our devices I've lost interest in the song. The next morning on the subway I play with it a bit more. It's crap so far, but it has possibilities. And isn't that what keeps all of us going, all the time--sure, things aren't so great, but maybe, right around the next corner, they will be?
This philosophizing meaning: I need sleep.
# posted by Joe Conley @ 1:00 PM 
