"the words you never cared to say,
'i want to start a family',
i'm tired of all the people i'm seeing through.
the same idea;
it makes me wonder why i'm here.
watch me now,
try."
when you have found the things you want, and the place you want to be, how long do you wait for it to happen? can you just sit back and wish, when it may take forever? what do you do if what you want is near impossible? or if the timing is just not now?
how do you quell the desire to say, watch me now...try...
just another (video) ~ pete yorn
"i love to wear my work inside of my head,
i can’t complain,
but you should never react the way you did,
i feel your time.
you were lying wide awake in the garden,
trying to get over your stardom,
and i could never see you depart us
and you’re my baby…"
one of my all-time favorite songwriters is leonard cohen, if not my very most favorite ever. those who know me well know what his songs mean to me, and how particular songs of his have become interwoven into the very fabric of who i am. i know for certain that his music and lyrics, especially his lyrics, have fastened themselves so deeply into my soul that they filter and flutter out into the way i write, the stories i craft, and even in the way i express things such as love, loss, and wishes.
yorn wrote this song after hearing jeff buckley's cover of leonard cohen's song 'hallelujah', and was inspired to craft one of my favorite songs of his, just another. you can hear it in the first guitar chord strums, but you can also feel it in the meanings between the words, and in the way the melody and verse weave in and out of each other. the stories behind the songs, the muses and landscapes that move an artist, and the way the song becomes its own to the listener (my own stories to this song, they evolve, they flow, and definitely exist) are some of the reasons music means so much to me.
all of it fits back into my long-held belief that art begets art, and that music is the oxygen to nearly everything we create. i know, for me, everything i write has music infused and intertwined in every word and phrase. music is forever my muse, my solace, and my inspiration. i know it seeps into the way i feel, the way i love, the way i let go, and the way i express everything.
and this morning, for many reasons, this song...well it feels like everything to me.
american blues, volume one ~ pete yorn
"this year we are not so sure,
battered and bruised,
young and old,
stable or stoned, stable or stoned...
it's happening everywhere we look in,
everythings rehearsed,
should be better,
lifes getting better,
why do people feel worse?"
everyone needs someone to blame,
but things don't go their way."
new song and video from pete yorn. i think it is incredible.
"i get up in the evening,
and i aint got nothing to say.
i come home in the morning,
i go to bed feeling the same way.
and i ain't nothing but tired,
man i'm just tired and bored with myself.
hey there baby,
i could use just a little help.
you cant start a fire,
you cant start a fire without a spark.
this guns for hire,
even if were just dancing in the dark."
dancing in the dark (live) ~ tegan & sara
dancing in the dark ~ pete yorn
dancing in the dark (live) ~ charlotte martin
dancing in the dark ~ ted leo & the pharmicists
"message keeps getting clearer,
radios on and i'm moving round the place.
i check myself out in the mirror,
i wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face.
man i aint getting nowhere,
just sitting in a dump like this.
theres something happening somewhere baby,
i just know that there is."
it was the end of the summer after high school was over and i was overwhelmed with restlessness, and that feeling of not really knowing who i was anymore. everywhere i turned was a door, a pathway, an avenue, a choice. i worked at a record store where i spent most of my paychecks on the same product i put out on the floor everyday. i kept in contact with a few of my friends from school, but most of us had already started wavering and fleeing the scene; most of the doorways led in different directions for the lot of us.
next i knew fall had arrived. i was wasting time at a community college, taking classes more for the interest they sparked then any curriculum, or plan. it was the first time in my young life i hadn't given school my all. i really did not know what i wanted to do, and i had no desire to pretend that i did. i was lonely, and i was more than a little lost. music was the only place i felt myself in, and i flipped the vinyl over, listening for the tell-tale scratch of the needle hitting the surface, while i filled stacks of composition books with something i thought could one day be a book.
a not-really-a-friend called one night. we had an acting class together and had exchanged numbers to work on a scene that we'd been assigned. i don't remember what it was, only that it required bags of groceries and a knife. she asked me to come see a movie, a late night showing of rocky horror. it was another spin of 'some great reward' and ink stains on my fingertips, or actually leaving my room. the night was warm, unseasonable for october, and the still air made me itch to go somewhere, anywhere. i had my ticket in my hand, pressed tightly in the palm of my hand, when i saw him. what i remember most was his eyes, wide and questioning, as if he was asking me something already.
we seemed so different. he was from money, from a set of parents that were still together, and he exuded this confidence when he told me about all the plans he had for his life. he wrote screenplays, good ones, even now i half-expect to see his name scroll by in the credits when i sit in a dark theatre. he lived for music in the same way i did, it was like fuel he would say, and i'd say it was more like oxygen. our tastes was as different as our upbringing was, but we both were willing to hear the others favorites. bruce springsteen was one of his, not mine.
he told me one afternoon, as we drove down pacific coast highway, that i had to listen to the best song ever. he played 'dancing in the dark', the original of course, and sang along with the kind of passion and abandon that most of us save for when we are alone. i knew for him it was the best song ever, and that he felt it, every single word and phrase. watching him like that made me smile.
it was never my best song ever, and i'm sure it never will be. but i think i appreciate it in a way that i wouldn't have had i never known him. it will forever remind me of that time in my life, and the boy who for a few months shared his music, his writing, and exploits in the backseat with me. i'd say he was my first boyfriend, but i'm not sure he ever was. we were too different, and we never quite fit into each other's lives. but we shared a certain restlessness, and we exchanged a great deal of our desires with each other. we spent a few weeks worth of evenings dancing in the dark.
"all at once,
i break my silence.
all at once,
there's no more hiding.
and all he wants,
is to show us how he feels.
they're all liars in the back room;
watch them all go down.
they can tell you what you want to hear.
but they will never stick around."
i love moments when you stumble upon something musical that you missed somehow before, but can now listen to now, and enjoy. i never knew about the axis of justice concert series, or any of the musicians involved in it until late last night.
this song has always been a favorite of mine from u2. ever and always one of those songs that I have turned up the volume to, especially in my car, and sung along. there has been times when the lyrics made tears fall down my face as there is something deep in the emotional make-up of this song, in the spirit of it, and the lyrics, that just shake me up.
it reminds me of chance, of hope, and of that ever-present gypsy soul that lives within me that often wants to just get in the car and drive until i run out of gas. find myself both lost and found in the world somewhere, cellphones and email out of reach, left with nothing but the people i love and the earth and the shared experiences between touch, conversation, and living.
"and you held and then you tried,
i could never find another.
if you walk me to the car park,
i won't go."
"and you have stayed,
a mile away from me,
and you will stay
a mile away from me
if you know what’s good for you,
you could have stayed until june."
come back home (live, aol sessions, video) ~ pete yorn
"in your life,
you can talk about it.
oh in your life,
you can live without,
can live without.
and you know you're hard enough,
and you find you're strong enough,
oh yeah,
you'll find you're hard enough.
oh yeah,
you'll find you're strong enough."
come back home (official video) ~ pete yorn
come back home ~ pete yorn
"say my name before you disappear."
it seems a new album is on the horizon, and a song has been released via myspace just last week which is truly amazing, and that makes me unspeakably happy.
- thank you, a, for sending me the song. much, much appreciated.
"take my hand,
come with me,
into this crystal scenery,
and wait, til i retain the ticket.
you would never have the time,
i would love to change your mind.
you were there,
and it was good in the beginning."
pete yorn (live, san diego)
suspicious minds ~ pete yorn
suspicious minds ~ elvis
"we're caught in a trap,
i cant walk out,
because i love you too much baby.
why cant you see,
what youre doing to me,
when you dont believe a word i say?"
i am pretty sure i've loved every version of this song i've ever heard, but this may be one of my most favorite covers of it - at least tonight.
and this one, glen hansard and mic christopher busking on the streets where he later filmed once, it just makes me smile.
murray (live, with atlantic city cover) ~ pete yorn
"and we both know,
that people change,
when truth’s not part of their lives;
i’ve seen the love in their eyes,
don’t say goodbye,
goodbye."
the saddest thing i have ever seen is defeated eyes. the most tragic words i have ever heard are "what if". there is nothing left but regret when you give up a dream without ever giving it a chance. if nothing else, i hope i teach my children that. take a deep breath, hold your head high, swallow your fear, and try. and remember, that failing and falling on one's backside does not have to mean you have given up.
i am reminded of ally sheedy's quote from the breakfast club, when she says "when you grow up your heart dies." perhaps i just refuse to completely grow up, or maybe i just refuse to let my heart die. my dreams, they may be fuzzy and full of obstacles, and some days i wake up with so much disillusionment that i feel they will never be, but i try - fucking hell i try - to keep a hold of my heart, my dreams, my wishes, and all those pieces of who that makes me.
"and i was waiting over here for life to begin,
i was looking for the new thing,
and you were the sunshine heading my front line;
i was alone,
you were just around the corner from me."
i had one of those moments this morning, one of my favorite kinds of moments, where the music flowed and connected so perfectly with everything around me. i am quite keen on playing music loudly while driving, singing along, and taking in the scenery with the musical accompaniment going along with me - a car concert, a friend once called it. i've been struggling so much with my mood and the whole state of my emotions that sometimes, just a small moment when music and morning meet, helps me breathe a little better.
"and when the darkness comes,
i lie awake,
playing lost and found.
all at once,
i break the silence,
all at once."
pete yorn, one of those musicians that i sometimes forget about, and then a song comes on and i remember how much i love their music. i was living in michigan when i first heard him. i devoured his first album, falling for each and every song. i remember playing online pool with victoria, jamie and chelle, and talking about pete yorn. chelle and i kept listing the same favorite songs. after that he became one of our favorites, one of those shared connections you have with friends. music is a cord, winding and invisible, connecting the people i love, and have loved, in my life. and, i cherish the memories that songs stir up in me, and the way i see/feel/hear people in songs.
