The Song of the Stolen Guitar

I have let this song mull around in my head for the last year and a half, it's time to get off my butt and write it. I'm sure people are tired of hearing the story of that fateful day in St. Anne de Bellevue, Quebec, when my guitar was stolen from my car. To be honest, it is partly my fault, for leaving the guitar in the backseat. It was covered well, of course, but that doesn't matter if someone is nearby watching you do it.  Minutes later, the small backseat window had a hand-sized hole in it and everything that was in the backseat was gone, including my roadside emergency kit, but excluding the bag of souvenir Montreal t-shirts and hats we had bought that day. To say I was devastated doesn't even begin to scratch the surface. My Guild F-30 was my first big name guitar. I bought it when I was 20 for $600, which was a lot of money for me back then. It had a sunburst finish and a dark tone that lent itself well to my sad songs. For 24 years that guitar and I were inseparable. It was a little beat-up and certainly showed its age. The bridge had been replaced and moved, and there was an imprint of a piece of music on the back. The guitar had been such a part of my life, I felt like I had lost my best friend. The thought of it in someone else's hands made me sick.

I was in Montreal for a musical gathering of Second Life musicians. Luckily, there was no shortage of guitars for me to play. Someone I met there offered me the use of his vintage Martins, and that was the beginning of my quest for a new guitar. I had a Taylor all but picked out but the call of the Martin was too strong. I had revered Martins from a young age, and a trip to the Martin Guitar Factory cemented that affection. A tip from the woman behind the desk at the Martin factory tour led us to the Nazareth Music Center.  A few hours later, I had purchased a Martin 000-28H, which was sent to the factory to have a preamp installed. The next two weeks went by so slowly, but the guitar was definitely worth the wait.  What a fabulous guitar.

My musical journey moves onward, without my faithful sidekick--the one who saw me through every emotion imaginable and absorbed my blood, sweat and tears for so many years. Several months after the theft, I found a mention of it online, posted the day it was stolen. Whoever had it then was trying to figure out how much it was worth and posted the serial number in his inquiry. I contacted the Montreal police, who said they would put an investigator on it. Yeah, I'm sure they got right on that. I do hope my guitar and I are reunited someday. It does happen. I have heard stories of people finding their stolen guitars many years later. I have hope.

So, what kind of song do I write to capture all of this? Early iterations of this song had an angry ring to them. I was out for blood. I'm not sure where I stand now. While circumstances have given me a superior instrument with which I am creating new memories and experiences, it still makes me sad to think about the loss I endured to get here. Ah...well...as they say, I'll get a song out of it.

The Story Behind 40 Years On

After a whole day of acting like a kid on Christmas Eve, I have just released my latest song, 40 Years On. I finished it in November of 2009 and finally got around to recording it this past week. I have been looking forward to its release for a while now, and was very excited that today is the day I can finally share it. This is the first song I have written that does not come from personal experience but it still comes from my heart. The song is about a friend of mine from Second Life who was a Vietnam veteran. Since this song strikes such a chord with me, I thought I would tell how it all came to be. I met Jimmy427 Alter (his Second Life name -- I never really knew his real name) at a Memorial Day show in Second Life that took place at his veterans memorial and museum. I was so happy to get a chance to sing there -- veterans, especially Vietnam veterans, have always held a special place in my heart. I have worn a POW-MIA bracelet for many years in tribute to those who were lost. Not long after that, Jimmy asked me if I might write a song about his experience as a Marine in Vietnam. I was truly honored that he entrusted me with the telling of his story, but not sure I was able to meet the challenge.

He sent me a note that detailed his story, some of it harrowing and heartbreaking. To take those facts and feelings and somehow distill them into a cohesive song that made sense proved daunting. I wrote a verse or two in June or July of 2009 and did not pick it up again until November of that year.  I wanted to capture the spirit and the story, without giving all the painful facts away. When I was finished, I recorded a demo version and sent it to Jimmy. I waited what seemed a lifetime to hear his thoughts, wondering if I had gotten it right.  He loved it. Jimmy was in and out of the hospital over the next few months, and had told me he played it for the nurses while he was there. Sadly, he won't get to hear the final version...he passed away on Febrary 19, 2010.

The song has amazed me in its reach. More people than I ever thought are responding and relating to it, and that means so much to me. The final version has a haunting violin melody by Beth Brown that drives home the poignancy and the grit of the story in such a lyrical way.

40 Years On is a tribute to Jimmy427 Alter, but also belongs to all those who serve -- soldiers and veterans in peace time and war time, on the front lines and behind the front desk, as well as those who have died so we can live the lives we choose.

Talent vs. Title

This is a repost of a blog entry I wrote back in 2005. The reality show is long gone and my songwriting is back on track, thank goodness, but my sentiments haven't changed.

Can you hear me? Way out there in the cheap seats? Ok, good. I guess it’s working. I’d like to thank the Academy, the fans, and my parents, oh and of course, my agent…Oops! wrong venue! Can you tell I’m a fledgling blogger and a frustrated musician? Anyway, now that it’s my dime and I’ve got your attention, I want to mention a TV show (a reality show, of course…is there anything else?) that really gets to me. I think it’s called “Love is in the Heir” or something catchy like that. The focus is on this princess whose dream it is to get a record deal in Nashville. She writes her own songs and plays the guitar and is an attractive woman, but she is not very talented. The episode I just watched showed her making a video for one of her songs. Ugh! Why doesn’t someone tell her she’s embarrassing herself? I think the fact that she is a princess opened doors for her that wouldn’t be opened otherwise. As someone who has similar dreams myself, I can understand how important the dream is, and I know how difficult and unkind the music business can be, but selfish little old me feels like why can’t I have a shot? The sad truth is, the older I get, the further away that dream gets. I know what the odds are, but what would it take for the right person to hear my stuff? The chances, I fear, are slim to none, realistically. But that won’t keep me from playing and singing any chance I get. Now, if I could only get my songwriting back on track…and a booking agent…And for the princess, well, I hope she doesn’t read this, but if she does, she should know that I wish her luck and think she seems like a really nice person (as much as one could glean from a half-hour TV show), just a little misguided.

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.