Sunday, April 1, 2012

The Muse of Music

As some of you may know, I have started singing again. Its something that I lost and let go of for a long time. There's reasonings behind that but of course that will be for a later blog. For now, though I find myself not to be a deeply religious person, I do believe in God, and feel like he sent me a sign. That sign allowed me to reconnect with a passion that once made me feel like a valuable person, or at least gave me an outlet to set my soul free. That outlet being music.

One of the challenges I have faced is trying to put emotion into a song that was written and I have been honored to sing. Of course learning a song from scratch is no easy task. The writer has their idea of how it should be sung, and the singer may not always acheive that goal. This song in particular, however, was written to pull at one's heartstrings. Like a Martina McBride song, it was made to reach out and grab a particular audience. This is where my inner drama queen is hard to control. There is a such thing as overdoing it. So in practice for my role for this slow country tear-jearking melody, I began to think about songs that have touched my life.

Think about songs that mean something to you. There are certain songs that take me back to senior year, sitting in the bank parking lot on a Friday night. The ones that remind me of a Thursday night at the frat house. That special song I would lay in bed and listen to over and over again when I was 14 because it reminded me of a guy I had a crush on. Its amazing how music can overload our senses. How everytime I hear a song from a certain band I think of a certain person and I my heart aches from memories. How when I hear George Jones I immediately think of Papaw. But then how many songs a day do I listen to that I have no emotional connection at all to and its simply a good song with a great beat or fun words to sing along to.

Well as I have gotten older, my meaning in songs have changed. Some songs I look at differently all together. As I tried to think of a song that could make me emotional and had fulfilling meaning to me that could match what my song writer wanted in the song he had written, two came to me. "The House that Built Me" by Miranda Lambert and "Flies on the Butter" by Wynonna Judd. Now, If you know me, you know I am not huge on country music. I would choose Tool over Miranda Lambert any day.  You  might also know that the beat of a song will grab me before the lyrics will. But these two songs make me long and miss for something that I realize is gone forever, just a memory and I will never get back.

Both of these songs are so similar in their nature, but differ in meaning to me.
Now I know alot of you are familiar with Miranda's song, but for those who aren't, here are the lyrics.

I know they say you can’t go home again
I just had to come back one last time
Ma’am I know you don’t know me from Adam
But these handprints on the front steps are mine
Up those stairs in that little back bedroom
Is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar
I bet you didn’t know under that live oak
My favorite dog is buried in the yard

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave
Won't take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

Mama cut out pictures of houses for years
From Better Homes and Gardens magazine
Plans were drawn and concrete poured
Nail by nail and board by board
Daddy gave life to mama’s dream

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave
Won't take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

You leave home and you move on and you do the best you can
I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave
Won't take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me
I cant help but think about the house I grew up in. Where my friends and I had sleepovers. When times were simple and Pam was still alive. When the biggest worries I had were what I was going to wear to school the next day and what I was going to do that weekend. When I had a job that paid $4.75 an hour plus tips and always had enough money because I had nothing to pay for except my car (which was dirt cheap) and my gas. A time when the stress was low and the days were easy. I remember dad telling me to embrace those times because one day I will wish I had them back. As he is most of the time, he was right. I feel a brokenness inside me now and for a long time I have been looking for a way to heal it. I have let it get the best of me. Sometimes just going back to my roots, back to Billstown, makes me feel whole again. I feel the constant pounding of reality slip away for a moment and I am free.

No matter how many times I have tried to sing this song, I cannot get through the chorus without breaking down. I feel like an idiot. It is, after all just a song. My goal is to record it one day without a single tremble heard in my voice. But how long will that take? When I am finally at a place in my life where the song is just a song that brings back sweet memories? Or when I finally don't have that brokenness inside of me?

The second song has the wierdest name. "Flies on the Butter" was never a huge hit, but when I was performing at Music Mountain Jamboree, my mom made me listen to it. When she told me the title of the song I was immediately skeptical (because by nature thats how I am). After I listened to it however, I ate my skepticism.


Old tin roof, leaves in the gutter
A hole in the screen door big as your fist, and flies on the butter
Mamaw baking sugar cookies, we were watching cartoons
Heard her holler from the kitchen which one of you youngin's wants to lick the spoon?
Yellow jackets on the watermelon, honeysuckle in the air
Daddy turning on the sprinkler, us kids running through it in our underwear
Old dog napping on the front porch, his ear just a-twitching
Fell asleep on Granddaddy's lap to the sound of his pocket watch ticking
Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh
It doesn't seem like it was all that long ago
Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh
You can dream about it every now and then
But you can't go home again
Me and my best friend Jenny set up a back yard camp
Stole one of Mama's Mason jars, poked holes in the lid and made a fire fly lamp
Me and Billy Monroe sneaking down by the river
And I'm still haunted by the taste kiss I was too scared to give him
Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh
It doesn't seem like it was all that long ago
Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh
You can dream about it every now and then
But you can't go home again
There's a black-top road, a faded yellow centerline
It can take you back to the place, but it can't take you back in time
Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh
It doesn't seem like it was all that long ago
Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh
You can dream about it every now and then
But you can't go home again
Old tin roof, leaves in the gutter
A hole in the screen door big as your fist, and flies on the butter
 
This reminds me of a whole different era. When my mom grew up. When I was very young. Visiting my Nannys house and how we grandkids were always there running in and out and finding new adventures in her yard. It reminds me of a simple time. It makes me sad to think that Maddox is growing up in a world where getting to watch cartoons was a big deal and a rare opportunity. Now every channel has something on. Hell for that matter the tv is always on. Its on right now behind me and I am not even watching the damn thing. Why? She is growing up in a school where each child uses Ipads on a daily basis. I am not knocking technology. If it wasnt for advancements, I wouldnt be writing this blog. But she is going to miss out on alot of the simple things that made the most precious memories I will ever have. Riding bikes with Nanny and Papaw to the creek or looking at all the flowers in Nannahs yard--things that didnt cost a dime but meant the world to me.
 
It also reminds me of my loss of youth and how much I took it for granted. "You can dream about it every now and then, but you can't go home again." The fact that I will never get the opportunity to ride bikes with my Papaw again or listen to Merl Haggard on his 45's with him while Nanny makes something good in the kitchen.  That no matter what I do, even if I moved right back to Billstown and lived in the old house I grew up in, things still wouldnt be the same. Right now, at this moment, and at most moments, its the saddest thing I can wrap my head around. I think because those were the last memories I have of being that incredibly happy. There's no way to get that kind of happiness back. Its all simply a memory.
 
When I went back to the studio, I was able to do a little better with the song, but I still wasnt able to get that connection I needed to make it spectacular. Maybe it's just not in me to sing that type of ballad. I have always been better at singing the blues. I think because there is alot of anger and sadness that I have kept built up and can pour it out through music. Well, and because you dont have to hide being a drama queen in a blues song. ;) I know that practice makes perfect or at least something close. So while I continue to practice music I'll continue to work on who I am as a person.