Songwriting Journal - Passion

The process of songwriting, for me, comes from a place of interpersonal exploration. Little moments with loved ones, whether frustrating or inspiring, an enticing string of words in conversation or movies or books, old memories that want to be explored – these are the things that catch a tune in my head and morph into songs. As the writing process goes along, the songs take on their own unique character and point of view, eventually bearing little resemblance to the point of inspiration, which still remains, but only as a shadow in the background.
The original inspiration for the song Passion is taken directly from conversations with my mother. I can, on occasion, be heard whining about growing up in a non-artistic household. True, there was appreciation of the arts, but since neither of my parents had artistic leanings, at least none that they acted on, they encouraged me in areas within their comfort zone (academics, athletics), and I was left to sort out the rest for myself. My efforts on stage did not go unnoticed - my father was known to swell with pride following one of my performances at school. And, I am certain that my mother did all the things moms do to support their kids in their activities, driving to and fro, buying costumes and uniforms, etc. But when it came down to it, my mother looked upon me as some sort of oddity, something outside the norm; a puzzle she knew existed but had no clue how to solve.
I think my mother was actually concerned about my path in life, and perhaps with good reason. Lawd knows show business ain’t easy. More than once she pointed out how my focus on performing arts was making my life more difficult than it need be. If only I could set aside this drive, this passion of mine, then I might have a chance at a normal and easier life. But I am who I am, and even after having children, which provided some common ground for the two of us, my work continued, and I could sense the cluck of her concern in every conversation.
My mom was certain that my drive, my passion was unique, but I disagree. I think everyone has a passion. It may involve career, a relationship, a hobby, an addiction, watching TV, or a behavior pattern that feeds some deep seated need – but we all have something. We all have a passion. So, that’s what the song Passion is about, the thing that blows you skirts up, or gets your juices flowing. Very often at live shows I’ll ask if anyone is brave enough to share his or her passion. One night, a fun lady I know announced to the room that her passion is belly dancing. So, there you have it – this song is about belly dancing, or whatever it is that lights your fire.

passion
© cheryl fare 2007

You have a passion, she said, you have a drive
But she made it sound like something dirty,
something I should hide
You have a passion, she said, well don’t we all?
To build, to eat, to breathe, to learn
Or do nothing much at all

Hmmm I think about it all the time
Hmmm I dream about it all the time
I can’t put it down, and I can’t make it fit
No matter what I do, there’s just no cure for it
Must be a passion

What is it you crave? Can you give it a name?
Does it bloom into love, or curl back into pain?
Do you use it to heal, or just cover up
the hole in your heart that never gets enough?

You have a passion, uh-huh, you have a drive
The devil voice that calls you home,
Or the angel by your side.
You have a passion, uh-huh, well don’t we all?
To build, to eat, to breathe, to learn
Or do nothing much at all

Hmmm you think about it all the time
Hmmm you dream about it all the time
you can’t put it down, and you can’t make it fit
No matter what you do, there’s just no cure for it
Must be a passion, Just a harmless passion
A yen, an itch, a passion, I can quit when I want - passion
We all got one – passion, Can’t put it down – passion
Can’t make it fit – passion, It’s just a little passion

Time to Speak Out About Domestic Abuse

I had the pleasure of performing this past weekend in a benefit concert for Safe Harbor, a domestic abuse shelter and service organization in Central Virginia. Initially, I was lukewarm about the event, not because of the gig itself, but because finances (or lack thereof) had forced me to pass up on a theatre reunion kinda thing at my grad school alma mater. So, with a pout firmly in place, I said yes to the benefit gig, and even agreed to attend a rehearsal or two, since I was going to be around anyway. As things got closer, and I took the time to plug into the cause promoted by the show, it became more and more clear to me why participation was not only meaningful for me, but has become a catalyst for me to step out on an issue very near and dear to my heart.

I have always had plans on the back burner to take action, speak up, find a way to do more than write a couple of songs about the abuse us humans visit on each other. The kind of abusive behavior I have the most experience with is the yelling, name-calling, ridiculing, controlling kind. It’s a sneaky kind of thing. It doesn’t leave any scars on the outside, but you can spend a lifetime trying to run down and heal the internal damage. In some ways, I think that the walking wounded find their way to each other, no matter what kind of abuse they have suffered, or whether they talk about it openly. Over the years I seem to have collected a great number of lovely souls with abuse stories as friends. Both men and women, it seems we strive to say the right thing for a loved one who has rarely heard a kind word, be the shelter for a moment’s peace, or solace in helping each other find an authentic way to stand in our own truth.

Themes of release and healing have surfaced repeatedly in my writing, whether intentional on my part or not. No doubt I will circle back around related ideas in the future, but for now, I’m looking for something a little more tangible. Following the concert for Safe Harbor, I dialed up their website, and filled out a volunteer application form. How I will find time for this, I don’t know, as my life is already well populated with issues and causes. But, the time feels right for me to step out on this issue, and I look forward to whatever opportunities come my way.

To learn more about Safe Harbor and their crusade against domestic abuse, go to: http://www.safeharborshelter.com/

Songwriting Journal - Stones in My Pocket

On the surface, Stones in My Pocket is a bittersweet remembrance of a song, a reflection of a past relationship, still treasured, but long gone. But below the surface, there is something more to be shared and explored. The impetus for this song, written back in 2000, came from a ripple of memory, some words said by an old friend that took on new and deeper meaning. And isn’t that the quality all our truly meaningful relationships have? No matter who the people are that fill our every day lives, the relationships that really matter are the ones that stick with us over time, through changes and ins and outs, continuing to echo with meaning at every step along the way. Maybe we see them every day, or never will again - maybe they we there for years, or maybe just five loaded minutes every few years or so. Whether or not we see them every day, the impact our treasured few have on shaping who we are becoming stays with us, mirrored in how we see the eyes in our reflection, and in the choices that we make. It’s as if we carry them, like little stones in our pockets, taking them out in quiet moments to roll around on our palm, noting the new ways that old snippets of conversation resonate from where we are standing now. It’s these people, the relationships that continue to sing with meaning, that are celebrated with this song.

stones in my pocket
© cheryl fare 2000

Carry you with me, roll you around some
Carry you with me, deep in my heart
Carry you with me, like stones in my pocket
Memories bittersweet and never forgot
never forgot

The minutes fly, the stars spin
My hair's gone grey and my eyes are dim
But your face it shines, those sweet words you say
My mind falls back like I met you today, and I

Carry you with me, roll you around some
Carry you with me, deep in my heart
Carry you with me, like stones in my pocket
Memories bittersweet and never forgot
never forgot

Reminiscence all my own,
recollection calls my heart home,
all these years could pull you away,
but the longer you're gone, the closer you stay
the longer you're gone, the closer you stay, and I

Carry you with me, roll you around some
Carry you with me, deep in my heart
Carry you with me, like stones in my pocket
Memories bittersweet and never forgot
never forgot
never forgot
I never forgot

Songwriting Journal - Same Old Dance

I'm not sure if this is a smart move or not, but the writing I've been doing the past week is a new song, so I've decided to share some fresh lyrics here. This one is for all of you out there who share a piece of your life with someone who travels. I'll move this song on stage soon, so I hope to see you then.

Same Old Dance
©cheryl fare 2009

I’m tired of watching you walkin’ away
Without sayin’ goodbye
Like that dulls the pain
And I’m standin’ here in the hole you leave behind
If I stood right here for a month, or a few
You’d come rollin’ back
Like you always do
With the freshest words, and that lonely in your eyes

And I will take your hand
I will dance that same old dance
I will know how this will end
And I still dance that dance

Instrumental break

I will take your hand
And I will dance that same old dance
I will know how this will end
And I still dance that dance
I will dive into your eyes
Blow right past your little white lies
I still know how this will end
And I still dance that dance

And there’s no point tryin’ to change the man I see
And there’s no point pining for how I know it could be
So I’ll stand right here with my aching open arms
And love you here and now the way you are
I’ll stand right here with my aching open arms
And love you here and now the way you are

I’m tired of watching you walkin’ away
Without sayin’ goodbye
Like that dulls the pain
And I’m standin’ here in the hole you leave behind
If I stood right here for a month, or a few
You’d come rollin’ back
Like you always do
With the freshest words, and that lonely in your eyes

Songwriting Journal - This Thing

I have been married for a long time. Even when you have been married for a long time, and are happy overall, you still meet people. You still meet people you are interested in. You still feel that elusive spark, that certain something that draws you to another person, even when your life is well entwined with your chosen mate. So, when you meet someone, and you’re already committed to another, whether you’ve been married 20 years or engaged for 3 months, the question becomes – what do you do with that, what does it mean?
The range of options seems pretty obvious. Run away; avoid at all costs – a good option for the straight arrows. Dabble with the new flame, and risk ruining what you already have. Or perhaps, as the old saying goes, throw the baby out with the bath water, drop what you’ve got, and dive into the unknown. I’m guessing here, but it seems apparent by the rate of divorce in modern society, that many choose to dabble, or ditch their current situation, and go for the new thing that takes their breath away. Not that it’s ever that simple, but I know I can name at least one couple who ended this way, and I bet you can, too. There is, however, one other option, an option difficult to see through the fog. Let’s start with a brief historical analysis….
In centuries past, marriages were based mostly on tribal affiliations, dynastic concerns, economics, and procreation. The energy involved in basic subsistence, and having enough healthy children to keep the family business afloat, was about all people could manage. Relationship dynamics and monogamy were an afterthought - if you got on well with your mate, great, if not - SUX2BU. As human societies have evolved, we now have more time to consider the quality of our relationships, the notion of individual choice, and the powerful allure of the love match. The American passion for personal freedom has led us to an almost obsessive belief that the one key ingredient for a long-term relationship is that indefinable chemistry – the click, the spark, the love thing, the “soul mate”. Of course, anyone who has been married for a while can tell you for sure that the bliss we all seek is one of the first things to pass in a meaningful relationship, as you progress to levels of true intimacy. And yet, the allure of the “soul mate” endures, leading some to wander from one date to another for years on end, and others to destroy their marriages and careers in a huge bonfire of shame by traveling all the way to Argentina for a quick fix.
Part of the problem lies in our limited understanding of the phrase “soul mate”. After all, everyone with a significant role in our life, no matter how we feel about them, is a soul mate of one sort or another. These significant others come in all ages and genders, show up in our homes or out in the world, and stick around for years and years, or maybe only for a week. They are all our mates, here for us to learning, loving, and moving us along on our life path. Honoring our soul mates, and the spark we feel when they come along does not mean we have to abandon all that we are, and all the good things that we have created. Instead, it means that we are charged to remain open to learning and growth, without betraying our vows and our principles - a fine balance, and a challenge to maintain at times, but fully worth the effort.
In the spring of 1999 I wrote a song called This Thing. For me, This Thing is about the delusional nature of romantic love, what happens when you meet someone after you’re already in a committed relationship, and how our modern notion of “soul mate” gets in the way of meaningful interactions. That’s a lot for a ditty of about three and a half minutes, but there you have it. Give it a spin, and let me know what you think.

songwriting journal - impetus & inquiry

I love to hear people’s comments about my writing. Granted, it’s not always a fun or easy moment, depending on the feedback. But when you do creative work, and share it with others, then the energy that comes back from the audience needs to be honored, just as much as the energy that brought about the work in the first place. My favorite moment is always hearing from people about their favorite moment. It lets me see how the work grows and continues to develop, even after its been performed, recorded, packaged. It makes me wonder about the listener, and how this one piece resonates with them in a meaningful way. It spurs me on to create more. Some people have a great curiosity about the creative process behind whatever moment has caught their attention. They ask where an idea came from, how it developed, and if they know me, they might ask does it have to do with this person, or that situation. I understand their curiosity, but I also want my audience to experience the work from wherever they are in the moment taking it in, rather than coloring their experience with an inkling of where I was when the work came about. So, sometimes I want to share, and sometimes not so much.

In some cases, I think my answer to curious questions would really spoil all the fun. There is one song I have recorded that has been called a favorite by some listeners. It’s a song about loss, and seems to connect with people on a variety of levels. I hope no one ever asks me about that one. My process with that song was to entertain myself by playing with one particular word in as many ways as I could. Then, I took an old melody that I wrote about 28 years ago, wrote a bridge to create some variety, and slapped it all together. Now, I’m not saying that I have no personal attachment to the song. I do. In fact, a few of the lines offer a glimpse into a particularly deep break in my heart. But overall, the songwriting process on that particular song was very clinical, and I wouldn’t want to spoil the meaning for a curious listener by getting too specific.

In other cases, I am just beginning to explore a particular theme, and have plenty more to say. I may choose to continue the thread in any number of ways. And finally, sometimes the subject matter of my work is very personal. This is, of course, one of the primary conundrums of doing creative work. On the one hand, the impetus for the work comes from deeply personal experiences; moments of meaning the artist may not yet begin to understand themselves. Then, if the work is meant to be shared, come the moments of others shining light into the dark corners, turning it this way and that, and asking how and why. Now, I do not think of myself as a deeply private person. There are not carefully constructed walls around my heart, secret pathways, or smoke and mirrors. It’s pretty much there, on my sleeve, and comes out in my writing, as I work through different levels of meaning and understanding in my life. So, I’m ok with the personal questions for the most part. And if a question does come too close, I can usually find a way to skirt around it for the moment.

What does concern me sometimes is how people I know and love will receive my work. There are times when an isolated event or particular theme is taken out, examined, spun out in a new direction, expanded, explored, prodded, twisted just to see what will happen, and what can be learned in the process. The resulting words no longer resemble what actually happened, the resulting feelings are amplified and enhanced. The words have taken their own path, and I have just followed along taking notes. So, it’s those kinds of things that can cause me to bite my lip and wonder how it all will go over. What will my husband or kids think? How about extended family, an estranged friend, or, as is often the case, an old boyfriend? In my weaker moments, these worries, combined with the wonder of modern social networking, can leave me circling around like a self-conscious tween at a middle school dance. When I’m feeling more at home in my own skin, I know that my task is to listen to intuition, allow impetus the space to unfurl, and allow inquiry to take care of itself.

For all this, I am thankful.

Songwriting Journal - History

I grew up writing songs. Secretly. In my head, in the bath, singing myself to sleep. Quietly, so no one would hear, make snarky comments, tell me I was doing it wrong, or what I should be doing instead. The first fully formed song I recall creating was when I was 11, and had a crush on my best friend’s big brother. It’s a blues song, although I have no idea where or when I may have heard the blues as a child. The only music I remember growing up with, other than Top 40 radio, is soundtracks from Disney movies. I played and played Mary Poppins and Cinderella, until I wore the grooves off the old LP. Even today, I can sing most of Mary Poppins from memory, and know for sure that a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down, and shaking hands with a chimney sweep will bring you good luck.

Anyway, back to the blues, and still not sure how I knew anything of blues music. But, the song is still there, in the memory banks, waiting to be brought into the light and made relevant. It’s a pretty decent song actually, complete with the deep moan of the unrequited, and heartfelt declarations of love for a man who, at the time, must have been nothing more than an awkward pimple-faced teen. One day soon, I’ll pull that song out of my pocket, roll it around some, give it some polish, and a chance to breathe the air in the here and now.

The next phase of songwriting was in my late teens and early twenties. College life gave me the chance to meet new people, and gain some exposure to music other than what came out of the car radio. A friend came along who helped me buy my first guitar (still the one I practice and write with today), and the songs started rolling out. I recall writing songs in a variety of dorms and common rooms, pages and pages of songs exploring love of many kinds, searching, heartbreak, yearning, you name it. Most of these songs have been lost along the years - not a great loss, really. A few of the musical progressions live on; one of those has actually made it into a professionally recorded product. Perhaps more will do the same.

In 1982 I started working in theatre, found the collaborative meld of many different art forms to be endlessly fascinating, and followed that path for many years. One thing about theatre - it is all-consuming, there is little room for anything else between the hours of creation and preparation, rehearsal, performance. Things slowed down a bit when my children came along, and more still in January of 1999, when for a reason I had yet to know, I just didn’t want to do theatre any more. I still wanted to communicate with an audience, but in a different way. What I wanted to do was go back to music. So, I started working in that direction, took a guitar class, started playing with melodies and words, found a partner to work with.

I was preparing, or the universe was preparing me, but for something vastly different than what I anticipated. On a Saturday morning in August of 1999, I played my first show as a singer-songwriter. On the following Monday, I found out my daughter had a brain tumor. (Let me just cut to the chase here and say that she is doing well. Its complicated and still challenging, but no complaints here.) Through the subsequent years of challenge and reward, music kept me going. Playing music and writing songs was flexible enough to maintain in between trips to the hospital, and the level of energy needed to guide a family through this sort of thing. On a more personal level, writing songs gave me the emotional and creative release necessary to keep an even keel when things got really tough.

It has taken me 10 years to go from that first show as a singer-songwriter, to where I am now, with my first album of original songs making its way into the world. My progress has been slow, but steady nonetheless. I have learned to keep paper and pencil on hand at all times, on the bed stand, in the car, a stack of index cards tucked into my pocket to catch strings of words as they capture my attention. I have discovered the thrill of taking small moments, spinning them out this way and that to study the strong parts and weak, and pulling them in again into a song. The music composition piece is a bit harder for me, since I really need quiet time for this to happen, and quiet time is hard to come by. Nevertheless, I keep plugging along. Songwriting is a piece of what I do, along with other writing, continued work in the theatre, and most importantly, keeping things going as a wife and mom. From time to time I’ll take a minute to write about the evolution of a particular piece I have written. Perhaps from time to time you will return to read.