When Songs Leave the Nest

I am a songwriter. I wrote my first song when I was 10 or so. Of course, it wasn't any good, but that's not the point. That song was the beginning of a new way of expressing myself. A number of years later (too many to mention), I am still writing songs, despite a 12-year gap that made me wonder if my songwriting was a fluke. When I was writing these songs, I never stopped to think what the end result would be. I assumed I would perform and record them, and that was pretty much it. So when a Second Life musician friend came to me and asked if he could play one of my songs in his set, I said no. I never really thought about what it would mean for someone else to play my music -- my thinking didn't go that far. I had to revisit what my goals were for myself in regards to my music. My dream has always been about performing, recording and writing. And what happens if I let go of one of my songs? I don't mean give it away, but what would happen if I lent it to someone else, for them to put their own stamp on it? I wasn't prepared for that. The word mine kept popping into my head.  After I thought about it a bit, and talked to other songwriters, I decided to say yes. The person who asked is a musician whose talent and skill I respect, and I could imagine that his version of the song would sound really good.  It was a strange feeling to hear one of my songs sung by someone else, but also interesting to hear another interpretation, especially since it was a great rendition.

The upside of letting other people play my songs is the possible broader audience and wider exposure it might garner for my music. It is also very flattering to have written songs that resonate with other musicians and songwriters. Other musicians have asked to play some of my other songs, and I am still a wee bit tentative. I do draw the line on songs I myself have not yet recorded or released. Even if Elvis himself, or anyone topping the charts asked, I would have to say no. Maybe it's selfish, but I want to be the one that gets the first shot at it. The songs I write are like children to me -- little pieces of me that I unveil and scatter into the world. They develop and grow in my heart, and I become attached to them, making it ever so hard to let go.

Farewell John Stewart

I was trolling the internet and just found out that John Stewart has died. A brilliant musician, singer and songwriter, (he wrote Daydream Believer, Gold, Lost it in the Sun, among many others) he was a major force in The Kingston Trio and had a solo career as well. Gold was the first song of his I had heard, since it was on Top 40 radio back in 1979. I was introduced to his earlier music when I was in high school. I played and sang in a church folk group, and we would get together on Wednesday nights to rehearse at someone's house. These rehearsal nights were so much fun and made me feel so alive and grown-up -- the music and friendship were a beautiful chemistry. One night, we congregated at Phil DiGennaro's house, and had been playing some Kingston Trio songs like Greenback Dollar and Weave Me the Sunshine. Phil put on a record and played July, You're a Woman, which I instantly loved, not just because my first name is actually in the song (there are very few of those, the least of which is about a dog getting lost), but because the melody and John's rich, textured voice captured me. Phil made me a cassette of that song and a few others, and I taught myself to play it. I never have performed it -- it probably sounds odd with a woman's voice behind it, since it is so clearly meant to be a man's point of view. I just played it for the first time in many, many years. It was neat how it all came back to me. Maybe I will perform it one day, if I ever get another gig...

Thank you John, for your music, and thank you Phil, for introducing me, and for all those fun nights we had playing guitars and laughing. I hope you are playing and singing together in heaven.