Category Archives: music

leaves

leaves
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There are these bushes by the sidewalk.  

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The leaves still cling onto the branches which hover over the sidewalk slightly.

So when I walk under the branches, and the wind is rustling the leaves  - 

IMG_7213- it sounds like hundreds of tiny silvery claps.  What sequins would sound like if they made music.

 

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stevie

stevie
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Stevie Nicks was 27 when she recorded this with Lindsey Buckingham, Christine McVie and Waddy Wachtel for the Fleetwood Mac album.  Makes me cry every time.  She’s too wise for someone so young. 

I wasn’t wise when I was in my 20s.  Can’t say I am wise now but I can say I am wiser.

I love the Dixie Chicks cover.  But there is something grainy and truthful and melancholy and old soul about Stevie’s.

I am thankful for Stevie.

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robbie

robbie
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I paint the office, take some furniture out, move in new, add a different rug.  Now as the task of neatening again lays before me, books, notebooks, journals, albums, paints, all lay before me, I put on Robbie Robertson and let ‘Somewhere Down The Crazy River’ see me through.

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heart

heart
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My husband sometimes leaves song quotes by my breakfast plate.  I wake up and come down to snippets of a song and struggle to remember the title, the band.

So one morning I leave a song for him.  My favourite Heart song:  From our first communication it was clear any thought of moderation…

He writes me later:  Check out this video.

I watch.  Big hair, weird storyline (my husband asks:  what is with the cat?), huge battling guitar solo.  Leather and lace.

I drew Ann and Nancy above liked they looked in the 70s – before the hair, the drama, the weight gain.

Before the 80s.  They rocked the 80s.

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robin

robin
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I grew up with the Bee Gees, picking my favourite.  As was always my way, I went for Robin over the big star Barry.  My girlfriend Lynn and I listened to Saturday Night Fever constantly.

I thought Andy Gibb was dreamy.

They fell away come university, twenties, thirties.  I’d hear about them without much thought.

A few months back, my husband and I watched a documentary on the Bee Gees.  Andy had died decades before and Maurice had died in 2003.  You could see the sadness in the brothers’ faces.  Losses impossible to recover from totally.

I fell in love with them again.  They were smart, funny, self deprecating, handsome, older, wiser.

Robin died yesterday.

It’s just Barry now.

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thyme

thyme
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My husband and our son are in the car jujitsu-bound and Max is looking at this cd cover:  Simon & Garfunkel’s Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme.  So Max repeats it aloud but pronounces nothing right.

“Parzlay, saggay, rosenberry and theemay.”

So my husband corrects him.  Max remains fixated on the last one.

“That’s not how you spell time.”

“It’s not time like clock time,” my husband says.

“But if it’s pronounced time why don’t they spell it T-I-M-E?”

“Because it is the herb and that’s how it is spelled.”

“But how can TH sound like T and why use a Y and how come there’s an E at the end?”

My husband sighs.

“It’s just pronounced ‘time’.”

“I’m going to pronounce it ‘theemay’.”

“Then that would be wrong, Max.”

“But it doesn’t look like ‘time’.”

These conversations are routine with our son.  Teeth grindingly, perpetually till we are blue in the face routine.

Damn Simon & Garfunkel and their pretentious title.

 

 

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clapton

clapton
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The massive boom box I bought approximately 17 years ago finally starts to go.  My husband takes the cd I am listening to (one of my absolute favourites) as I sputter frustrations and he puts it in the blu-ray player.

Suddenly, Eric Clapton, all hairy and late eighties, washes over the room and splashes into the next.  He is so clear and pure, I believe – as I stand in the living room ironing another shirt – that he is in fact just a few feet away, behind the white chair, singing only to me:

I’d do anything anything you can dream I’d do anything anything for your love…..

 

 


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1970

1970
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I read a book about 1970 and James Taylor’s ‘Sweet Baby James’, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s ‘Deja Vu’, Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ and The Beatles.  Though ‘Get Back’ was the album out, they’d recorded it the year before.  By 1970, they were in the messy throes of a divorce.

I always feel very down when I read about The Beatles breaking up.  I was 5 at the time so it didn’t affect me back then.

Now, it’s the same when I read about JFK.  Maybe this time he won’t get shot.

In my perfect world, The Beatles loved each other forever.  Reality is just too discouraging.

 

 

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