All posts by Sleeve Notes- Integr8d Soul's lyrics

Writer of the novel Anywhere With You available on Smashwords and Amazon.com; songwriter and performer with Integr8d Soul; writer with Joe PHillips on Hero Duty, from IDW PUblishing; author of the upcoming non-fiction comics storytelling companion, Creating Marvels.

Short and Sweet

Short and Sweet

It’s spring, 2012, and I’ve just weathered a personal storm with a lifelong “Friend” trying to criticize my creative work out of existence because of…well, that’s assholes for you.  I probably created this straight out of my head, though this isn’t its actual origin I think, ’cause MK is singing along, but it’s probably “day of” creation.

They live with ease: listen to trees

The trees can teach you more than most people please

(Learn from nature)

KNow the real value of what you hold on to

’cause if you don’t do it, you’ll never know REally You

(what do you need to essentially be yourself?  What would Yourself Really Be?)

Some paths have angels, others have devils

some paths seem to be empty, you can find at all levels

(this is a light-hearted reference to mysticism, probably influenced by our D’n’A comic)

All of the ones who wouldn’t listen are gone

it’s just you and this song, I’ve got to help me hang on

I know just what to do, I will create and be true

and I don’t really need anybody but you!

(One thing I like about this song is that straight-forward statement of purpose.  It’s about this experience making music is why I’ve held on to a life where I can do it regardless of what else I might miss.  The other thing: it’s truly short and sweet!  Which is a good description of Angela, too.)downsized_0410171823a_0001 (1).jpg

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Drifter (skywards)

Drifter (Skyward)                            or   !

I stopped to say good bye to a recent friend we’d made

we took a book of Batgirl comics, which on her bed she laid

her dreams of college started, her things moved in the castle

it’s time to leave the castle now, so was it worth the hassle?

harbor

I went out to the flying craft, gave everyone a wave at length

it’d be so quick to pilot home, hang on and use my arm’s strength

and then I pushed the throttle forward, wheels rushed off the ground

then floating a-bove I waved at the students all around

Enough of all this scenery, and back to my machinery

I drifted to my next goodbye, he wasn’t one for hugs

but he’d seemed a friend so good enough we’d talk of Italy

I raised my machine high enough to stay above the trees

Drifter leaning skyward

it’s beautiful, you can take my word

you feel surrounding elements, you are so unprotected

but we just might fly to everywhere if we can stay connected

And there below inside the park, I saw you my best friend

playing ball with a child and family she lifted up her chin

I guided down my drifter to four point alight below

and I asked have you seen everyone I know it’s time to go

You said I wish we’d stayed to be the graduation ceremony

I knew you meant you hope it pays that a bachelor’s work’s not phony

we’d have a few hours to glide, we shouldn’t plan our stops

we might not make them all in time, then our friends might call the cops

to see if we had crashed in our dream drifter headed east

perhaps we’ll just surprise someone if we communicate the least

it’d keep us off the Internet, it’s too much information

when our dream’s to launch our flyer and glide all over the nation

Drifter leaning skyward

it’s beautiful, you can take my word

you feel surrounding elements, you are so unprotected

but we just might fly to everywhere if we can stay connected

So hang on to my drifter, and our wings will catch the wind

I can’t promise riches, places we won’t see again

and I hope the flight is worthy, for it’s cost me everything

but my time, and that, I’ll pay to climb on hopeful, steady wings

we’ll leave the campus quickly, once we push the throttle down

and we might need jobs that aren’t so much, we might need other towns

but where we go, we’ll always talk, and speed to skies above

so long as this craft can hold up, invention spreads the love

We fly with ease within our dreams, without a fear of heights

in this drifter we will travel light, above the city nights

some might want to fly like us, a few might help the way

we can make ground life more bearable, though misery might stay

The weather in this drifter may make travel incomplete

repairs require honesty and dollars that compete

Drifter leaning skyward

it’s beautiful, don’t just take my word

we feel surrounding elements, we are so unprotected

but we just might fly to everywhere if we can stay connected

Flyers high within our minds, in vivid dream’s pretend

but I know what’s real and beautiful, is making one best friend

Drifter bracing skyways

navigate the by-ways

soaring over high-ways

floating high again

Drifter bracing skyways

navigate the by-ways

soaring over high-ways

floating high again

Cecil Disharoon/ Lue Lyron 8/23 11:05am

This was my dream, as I describe it, written alongside a melody when I awakened.  I had a flying craft, small, light-weight, which I could land anywhere with ease, and I prepared to fly away with The Marc Kane from a college campus, over the homes of some friends along the way.  I think the craft is Art and really, any unique choice of lifestyle to which you commit.  It could be about leaving college for adult life with no safety net.  It could even be about Death and ghostliness, but I didn’t have that in mind at all.  I do sometimes catch a tear at the beauty of things and often attribute that to the power of we mortal beings touching these sublime feelings and states.

I’m just a little surprsed, the next day, that “bird” doesn’t appear in this song.

excised from the demo recording:

but I had a dream I wrote a song, it’s all I wanted all along

it’s just a simple flyer, but they can’t take it from me

I made it, and may fortune take it some day over seas

Continue Playing!

“Continue Playing”

  1. Dawn wakes and I’m by your side

    Who knows if this makes sense from the outside

    All that really matters is if you feel it’s wonderful

    Amazing and real

’cause if that’s how you feel

Continue playing, I love what you’re saying

I think too much but I can leave it all when we’re swaying

hold you closer -show a whole other scene

that we can write together

then we’ll know what it means

Continue playing

2.Singing, sick, or when you need to disappear

I’ll see where we are, over coming fear

We can never die, we’re where the eagles fly

though the world gives me a sigh,

there’s a way you take me high

Continue playing, I love what you’re saying

I think too much but I can leave it all when we’re swaying

Hold you close — show a whole other scene

that we can write together

then we’ll know what it means

Continue playing

bridge: Some things are simpler than most realize

What works best is simpler than most realize

Picture now a heaven new in love new in love in your eyes

instr.

(chorus)

Continue playing, I love what you’re saying

I think too much but I can leave it all when we’re swaying

Hold you close — show a whole other scene

that we can write together

then we’ll know what it means and outro:

Picture now a heaven new in love in your eyes

I can see a heaven new in love in your eyes

I can see a heaven new in love in your eyes

(Continue playing) (Hajime)

I can see a heaven new in love in your eyes

(Continue playing) Doo=dit doo-dit dooo

I can see a heaven new in love in your eyes

Lue Lyron0805170054.jpg

Loni Anderson

Loni Anderson is a song based on the real life experience of U.S. Military veteran Jim Hall, who started Nashville’s first professional limousine service in 1977.  Among the many stars he met was TV’s Loni Anderson, who had blown up big on WKRP in Cincinnati at the the time and asked Jim to escort her for a week.

Here, you get a party song mashed with a nostalgia tinge plus a sex symbol, and believe me, we’ll get you a link to this very catchy-sounding tune as soon as it’s ready!

Words and Music, Cecil Disharoon D# riff Dm C# D# F/ D# Dm F A#!

D# G#

He had the picture that he likes to showcase

D# A#

He wasn’t married she had the glow face

D# G#

Her pretty smile made a television treat

D# F A#

He escorted Loni around Nashville to eat

See he’d hung with Johnny Fever and ‘round day three

he asked about that blonde at WKRP

Two-thirty one day alone in a green room

D# F A# G#

Loni said, come help me beat the road gloom

G# A# D# G# A# D# G#

Chorus In ‘79, Loni was looking so fine, hit Music City and the gold mine

G# A# D# G# F A#

Pull down the hat, drive a woman like that anywhere she wants to have a good time

D# Dm C# F

D# G# A#

2.He’s got a photo with Loretta Lynn

and big country stars that need a limo friend

I’m not old enough to remember what it means

before New York wrecked the scene

I guess some people you don’t forget

and back then Loni was famous as you get

The brains behind the beauty, sophisticated girl

A blonde bikini pin-up that rocked the whole world

G# A# D# G# A# D# G#

Chorus In ‘79, Loni was looking so fine, hit Music City and the gold mine

G# A# D# G# F A#

Pull down the hat, drive a woman like that anywhere she wants to have a good time

D# Dmin C# F

C# D# F

Bridge But one week with Loni, to take her on the town

Her picture’s in his Town Car haul the years around

Dm C A#

Thanks for taking good care of me- she signed her head shot

Dm C A#

Froze in time, Loni’s sublime- it’s all that he’s got

G# F

A sprinkle of her star dust, and Lord what a great bust

G# F G# A#

Sometimes a woman needs a fella she trusts!

D# G#

And he’s talked of a book about driving everyone

D# G# A#

But days have passed by where younger folks would know

D# F#

The marquee Music City nights of fun

F# G# A#

130 pictures, he’ll probably let it go

G# A# D# G# A# D#

Chorus In ‘79, Loni was looking so fine, hit Music City and the gold mine

G# A# D# G# F A#

Pull down the hat, drive a woman like that anywhere she wants to have a good time

G# A# D# G# G# A# D# G#

Chorus 2 In ‘79, Loni was looking so fine, hit Music City and the gold mine

G# A# D# G# A# D#

Pull down the hat, drive a woman like that anywhere she wants to have a good time

G# A# D# G# A# D#

Have a good time Have a good time Have a good time Have a good time

(Have a good time!) (Have a good time!)

G# A# D# G# A# D#

Have a good time Have a good time Have a good time Have a good time

(Have a good time!) (Have a good time!)

D# riff Dm C# D# F/ D# Dm F A#!

6/19/17 Lyron

Clipped-out Verses:

3 D# G#

No one else drove those first limos in Nashville

D# A#

Those big celebrities spark a little thrill

He and Carol Burnett took in a matinee

I wonder what a star and a war vet had to say

Now both his sons live across the state

His adopted daughter, his breakfast date

He says I love you, and they love him too

He golfs every day that the sky’s blue

J Street

j str lyron topREading the Who book From Lifehouse to Quadrophenia gave me lots of insights into the creative process, even the difficulties assonant to being the most heralded rock band of your era.  The rock opera success of Tommy drew Pete Townshend into thinking about story arcs for albums- indeed, for accompanying films, concerts, full multi-media productions further in vision than in pragmatic technological possibility.  His weakness, he often said, was plots; he wrote terrific songs, though.  In the case of Quadrophenia, he assembled an arc based on four personality traits symbolizing the Who’s members- this seems to be the weak point in the concept.  But songs?  And a story?  This time, after the nerve-wracking failure to convey Lifehouse, Pete struck gold.

 

I considered, if I had the resources, many times, I would assemble our CAlifornia-penned songs.  The idea of it being a concept album drifted hazily amid these broodings.  With a new creative ally offering help on the horizon, and this book recursively laying out the pitfalls and peaks of making a story run through an entire album, I turned again to the idea of the California era of I.S.  We wrote many, many songs out there, and grew musically, even expanding our singing approach and shooting some cheap videos.  But as we wrote about our personal story there- did we live a story that could be an album?  Maybe even one that might call for what was known formerly as the double-LP, to flesh out the whole tale?

 

Perhaps.

I assembled 18 songs, divided into the Escondido era, the trip there and songs inspired directly by arriving and surviving 3,000 miles from everyone we knew, then the San Diego era, where we also wrote about our romantic philosophy as well as life in the beach-side city.  I went back to a spot early in the SAn Diego transition that hadn’t been detailed- I was working too hard to write so many songs as yet, and still had many from early Escondido times, which also included some politically-inspired content.  Over an hour at the park today, the evening of the morning where I assembled these CA songs and began mulling a project with them, I wrote lyrics that began while driving over to Ridgeferry in the truck.  I was on the phone to The Marc Kane while writing all but the part that will be the bridge or coda.  LYrics are credited to Lue Lyron, my pen name; I am reasonably sure of the chord progression but literally haven’t been home yet to try it!

J Street

I see a part of myself lying on the street

as though I spit it out of the window

The sickness inside these ordered hotel rooms

it’s hard when you’re over the rainbow

Work hard or lie in disability

What does it matter you’re next to the sea?

The rich eat the city, but the breeze still grows

Sandwiches love notes with x’s and o’s

Lucky for you, you by my side

The troubles of others, make me want to hide

we left the nothing we could do with our life

working the J Street with you as my wife

Blind to illusions of security

Fortune and freedom that you seek on the road

Can’t see the sea for their complacency

Systems that force creation’s need to explode

Try to turn over there’s no falling leaf

Mode of success depends on what kind of thief

I’m trying to find my way through this survival

Late nights with you is where I find our revival

Lucky for you, you by my side

The troubles of others, make me want to hide

we left the nothing we could do with our life

working the J Street with you as my wife

The sun’s a year-round friend- so many troubled watch the troubles go by

Businesses pay so much to come and go beneath the California blue sky

Blue line home, or for your silver and gold, to tour the flip side in Tijuana

Pulse of the clubs where you can’t hear a word, East Village scents of marijuana

Or bike to the beach, it’s just in reach, unlike the dreams that hold me day and night

Still I have song, pray it won’t be long, until we’re each feeling all right Lyron 5/11/17

(one more chorus, this time rocking out)

Lucky for you, you by my side

The troubles of others, make me want to hide

we left the nothing we could do with our life

working the J Street with you as my wife

Lazarus, by David Bowie

When David died, we’d been listening to his music above all other choice of artists, ever since mid-September- a year ago-if not earlier.david-bowie-concert

I mean, putting on a queue, listening to it 20-40 songs deep, re-arranging it every few days kind of immersion (and still I had not found “Miracle Goodnight” or his cover of “Cactus”- to that one, I owe my friend Dave Kraft, looking for favorite Pixies songs to play when we visit).

Miracle Goodnight

I listened to “Lazarus” tracks on his birthday weekend, and then, as the song says: “where the fuck did Monday go?”  I started writing this, put 5,000 words into it- and never completed or posted it.

I think I’ll simply post it as-is, an unfinished but wide-rambling piece that talks about the video and tries to digest the news: David Bowie, R.I.P.  I’m very sorry for his family and close friends.  He visits dreams of my own friends, such as writer Matthew David Curry (author of Finding Drake Novak and more).  He passes hours washing McDonald’s dishes with my wife.   I wonder when he ever thought, writing, covering, recording, performing so many, many songs: “these things carry on.  Expressions of moments in time become artifacts, shared and revisited over time.”  Did he ever have such a thought when he was neophyte performer David Jones?  He could not have missed that ponderance in his retired years.  It’s too bad this is all so somber, because in each interview, he had some conversational moment that made him or the interviewer laugh.

Bowie- Right

Here’s my thoughts on “Lazarus” the week we said goodbye to Robert David Heywood Jones.  Long live Bowie!

 

Free to live again.  Some part of us that rises from the grave, beckoned by a holy, creative power.  “Lazarus.”

David, that is just amazing.

I don’t feel I can talk about your song without your video, your final video performance.  You pretty much invented modern rock videos with “John, I’m Only Dancing,” according to Lester Bangs, you know.  Well, it shows.

Lazarus

You owned the most personal of awful inevitability, and right before our eyes, before we had much time to analyze your somehow, didn’t quite no why disturbing and pitiful video, what amazed us was transformed by your transition.  What artist of your stature better snared the attention of the world with a deliberately final performance?   I think you would consider the Seventies full of days more awful yet than these you last had, but like some sonic Book of the Dead, you spent your final time preparing in every possible way, and here you left the last songs, the Gospel According To Bowie, one might say, and whatever’s in here is bound to have seemed quite important to you, the last images put together, concealed again in a brilliant suggestion that anything can be snatched up and used to create religion, costumed again in one final Bowie character, with a brand new quartet to open another innovative direction for which to live, honestly.

0819162031aIntegr8d Soul, Bowie Tribute, Aug. 19th             We presented/ guest sang  on 13 songs! 😀

So here is the theme bearing this character’s name, “Lazarus.”  I believe Bowie had something in mind that Lazarus was a false prophet, a declaimer of a new religion based on misunderstandings dating back to the origins of what, visually, was intended to evoke Major Tom, the lost astronaut from “Space Oddity,” the Alpha to this Omega.  His inevitable end has left us only his crystalized skull, and from there the “Blackstar” video suggests religion has a dark side.

What’s happened is, Bowie, as David Jones, has disappeared, but will rise again as inspiration, the same enthusiasm that makes all new forms, the oblique strategies, if you will, by which one may gamble on immortality, at least, for so long as remembered by mortal kind.

The video opens with a wardrobe chest in a bleakly-colored room.  One cannot miss the symbolic twin-ship with a coffin here, or is it a womb, or even a portal?  At any rate, it is not Bowie, but a girl child, who emerges first from chest.  That is, after this, it will be someone else who will emerge and live, and no longer this Lazarus who’s come one last time on stage to declare his freedom from performance, even the performance of courage while enduring terminal pain.  She’s almost certainly a fellow character in this final tale, and he may have changed his mind about exactly who he thought they were, his last messengers.  But is his point about we others who will carry on creativity made by this girl, or is she Death?  Cancer?

david

Masked, willfully blindfolded, a kind of last ersatz science fiction super hero, Bowie, with his funny, unnerving, altogether weird glued on replacement eyes, buttons, seems like a doll, personified as an aged, dying man.  He mimes his physical struggle; the camera turns to give us the effects of the pain drugs; he smiles impossibly wide, with joy that suffering will end, and then he will be free to be something that, once again, he had not been before!

Look up here, I’m in Heaven

He made a performance piece about his secret, private pain and suffering, and the triumph of making the body sit and write, create and create again, despite the whorling of reality. and mastered his fear of the unknown.  Through his primitive, shamanistic mask, David mimes simple, direct, honest truth about his feelings.  Call it disturbing, but art is not meant to only comfort and numb us.   He seized an opportunity from a horrible condition!

France David Bowie
David Bowie sits holding a cigarette in Cannes, May, 1983. (AP Photo)

So here is the theme bearing this character’s name, “Lazarus.”  I believe Bowie had something in mind that Lazarus was a false prophet, a declaimer of a new religion based on misunderstandings dating back to the origins of what, visually, was intended to evoke Major Tom, the lost astronaut from “Space Oddity,” the Alpha to this Omega.  His inevitable end has left us only his crystalized skull, and from there the “Blackstar” video suggests religion has a dark side.

What’s happened is, Bowie, as David Jones, has disappeared, but will rise again as inspiration, the same enthusiasm that makes all new forms, the oblique strategies, if you will, by which one may gamble on immortality, at least, for so long as remembered by mortal kind.

The video opens with a wardrobe chest in a bleakly-colored room.  One cannot miss the symbolic twinship with a coffin here, or is it a womb, or even a portal?  At any rate, it is not Bowie, but a girl child, who emerges first from chest.  That is, after this, it will be someone else who will emerge and live, and no longer this Lazarus who’s come one last time on stage to declare his freedom from performance, even the performance of courage while enduring terminal pain.  She’s almost certainly a fellow character in this final tale, and he may have changed his mind about exactly who he thought they were, his last messengers.  But is his point about we others who will carry on creativity made by this girl, or is she Death?  Cancer?

Masked, willfully blindfolded, a kind of last ersatz science fiction super hero, Bowie, with his funny, unnerving, altogether weird glued on replacement eyes, buttons, seems like a doll, personified as an aged, dying man.  He mimes his physical struggle; the camera turns to give us the effects of the pain drugs; he smiles impossibly wide, with joy that suffering will end, and then he will be free to be something that, once again, he had not been before!

Look up here, I’m in Heaven

He made a performance piece about his secret, private pain and suffering, and the triumph of making the body sit and write, create and create again, despite the whorling of reality. and mastered his fear of the unknown.  Through his primitive, shamanistic mask, David mimes simple, direct, honest truth about his feelings.  Call it disturbing, but art is not meant to only comfort and numb us.   He seized an opportunity from a horrible condition!

Blackstar video inspired by Popeye? I love you, David!!!  LOL

The mask itself, with buttons replacing the actual eyes, can also be seen as a symbol of mind control, escaping into a false reality for comfort.

blackstar-eyes

Button eyes appear in the movie Coraline, when the titular character is offered a comforting but false virtual, magical reality.   Lazarus, the Blackstar character, was intended as a false prophet, for a religion made up of misunderstandings.

 

Artists, I promise, and the artists in all of us who dream and like to make personal things, will remember the earthly end of DAvid Bowie for generations to come.

Through his spell, he himself is removed, yet all the means of becoming his art are there to yield entirely new bonds in both soundscape and song.  I smile that, on his last birthday, 69, at that, hah!—David smiled, too.  As brightly as a man free from struggle with pessimism, as knowing he is loved as can be, I trust his art in a way because it belonged to a man who found triumph in ways that make the hoards of us outsiders overjoyed with the task of discovery and creativity.  Something to dance to is healthy if you are able, just as brooding music can open such reflective private mindscapes, too.   Changing styles, for a compelling reason, is an urge that benefits an intelligent person, but Bowie did it in a legendary way you can read about or maybe already remember in considerable detail.  So let’s just start where he always found himself again, one human being meditating on words that might fit the sounds of a song, and a melody to make it again his own, after returning from his suggestions through the crack shot abilities of his NYC jazz club discovery quartet.

David Bowie Lazarus Photos 2.tif
David Bowie Lazarus Photos 2.tif

I think Bowie felt he could not take a chance that this might be the end and here might he be without his own address of the matter.  What a lost opportunity, to pile on top of all the years that might have been!   It would render death more senseless yet, and he had mused upon Death far too long to say nothing with foreknowledge of the end.

“Searching for music is like searching for God,” Bowie said to 60 Minutes once.  Spiritual concerns have driven his questioning lyrics.  I feel a kinship with the man in that.  And if I’ve never been a rock star, tied steady to one quiet woman with her marvelous voice and will, then a guy who we think invented so many of the rock star tropes or at least stole the best of all he could find and put them in a performance blender also said, in the 2005 interview, that he never considered himself a rock star.  Writing, recording songs—he was so glad that had worked out for him professionally.  He met again and again with new inspirations.  It’s charming that he painted and drew, too.  One true love romance, a seven year wait for their one child together, and you have one nice, long, happy ending that replaces time spent lingering over regrets.  Relatively speaking, it never was all horrible, however sad, and love and life and happiness and surprise won out.    An artist works with the material at hand.  I honor this bold work, with sympathy for those who knew and loved him best, not for what he could give the world, but for who he was to them.  You don’t want to lose track of those who care for you, however filled your isolated artistic world may seem in the contentedness of your own company.

bowie-laz

So there in his mask, his eyes are darkened, as the performer faces the darkness to come in a mask of his own device, for it is the material appearance of things that is to change, and into the darkness he sees, he mimes his interpretation of these words.

Look up here, I’m in Heaven.

I’ve got scars that can’t be seen.

 

There you have it.  I’ve not edited the above, just added some pics and links.

Really, only readers can make it complete.

Love, Lue Lyron

 

 

 

Changeless Change Ability

Changeless Change Ability

(intoned funkily, MK)

It’s almost much easier to bear my pain

by putting it under the hood of Marc Kane

Six days a week and I find what I seek

Wholeness, unfailing, all there for the unveiling

It’s me the trees are feeding

seems I’ll never finish seeding

(chorus, sing it!)

White hot pool of me, coming up over the horizon

I thought you knew: nothing ever dies

only transformation

transfigured by the will -and then:

stillness learning movement

Changeless, Changeability

Adapts itself- to the new reality, and we’re free

and we’re free

and we’re FREEEEE

 

2. Time flows on, with more layers till dawn

I need your help to make this work

I’ve opened myself, here: have a look

Bodies don’t like putting bodies in the ground

when you’re living in the spirit, you’re always around

By that I mean, thoroughly enjoying the scene

with all its trials and errors

that might bring out old terrors- sing it!

White hot pool of me, coming up over the horizon

I thought you knew: nothing ever dies

only transformation

transfigured by the will -and then:

stillness learning movement

Changeless, Changeability

Adapts itself- to the new reality, and we’re free

and we’re free

and we’re FREEEEE

 

3. But

don’t forget who you are

greater by far

in lessons, understood, yet

remaining in the good.

Oh-to make this be my last

necessary life-

so as to with joy, take on strife

Oh-let this be my last-

necessary life-so as to with joy, take on strife. Sing it!

White hot pool of me, coming up over the horizon

I thought you knew: nothing ever dies

only transformation

transfigured by the will -and then:

stillness learning movement

Changeless, Changeability

Adapts itself- to the new reality, and we’re free

and we’re free

and we’re FREEEEE

 

 

0710160818

Lue Lyron & The Marc Kane, 2005

Throw Out The Old

bahamas Uma

1.His name will make the papers just once more

feeble now, excused from play

Find the paper plates strewn on the floor

give the cats to different homes

get around to that one day

All the best of times All the left behind

Learn the weather, preach the word of different minds

For control and fear we say

He wants to throw the old out of the house.

  1. As the clippings brittle now    and the feeling goes awayPiece by piece, the holes are gone

    they are gone, lost, another day

    Pain and smiles and songs and then complain

All the best of times All the left behind

Learn the weather, preach the word of different minds

For control and fear we say

He wants to throw the old out of the house.

  1. Shine you bright young star   thanks for all you arebrighter shined the never brightened day

    in daydreams ever where they stay

    it robs from meaning some of what you say

    when it’s late to stop the falling of the rain

All the best of times All the left behind

Learn the weather, preach the word of different minds

For control and fear we say

He wants to throw the old out of the house.

-Lyron, 11/1/15 1am

The story of someone who’s given up hope on getting better, a sort of anti-“Ulysses”-via-Tennyson about how loss can become a cocoon of self-pity, and a few cryptic sayings that work even better when liberated to open meanings.  A reminder not to defer tomorrow.  I’ve rarely written songs about fear of aging, but the empathetically-drawn character method evokes sympathy for the erosion of even the best of sentiments when one’s personal feeling for them is mixed with dissolution; the harbor of daydreams and plans stagnates in spiritual hollowness.  With its F7 and C verses resolving in drop D power chords, it’s quite a melancholy portrait.  Luck was already tuned to drop-D, with the first verse and chorus written on the back of another sheet on the stand, I gave an interpretation similar in elegiac mood to David Bowie’s late track “Slip Away.”  A melody had been trying to slip my lips since midnight, and finally I engaged it with pen and guitar, where it wrote itself out with little hesitation over the next half hour, chords sequenced and practiced and shuffled and then committed.

With Integr8d Soul songs, sometimes the insight nestled within the most miserable state provides clues to any hope.

The Thing About Girls : Waiting On A Girl (2012)

“Waiting On A Girl” was the very first song we wrote, I think, with “Girl” in the title. it’s fair to say, in the past two years, many tunes have come to us with that word without which popular music could simply not exist.

harbor

“Waiting”‘s melody came to me as I awakened one September morning in 2012. “I know a girl,” sang my voice in my mind, “who’s waiting on a girl, waiting on a girl/ and I know she’s my girl/ I wouldn’t trade her for the world”

That chorus melody drew me to sit down and scrawl a draft of lyrics on, most likely, an envelope. Receipts, napkins, and especially used mail have hosted the genesis of many of our songs. This one took me about forty five minutes; I seem to have been figuring out the chords, too. I like to use some of my latest learned, and try them out until I have the sequences. I had a lot of fun thinking about downtown outside and the roads to the beach in every direction.

Our friend Smorg, who wrote the first interview with Integr8d Soul in 2007, is an avid bicyclist; she began taking me out on her cool down jaunts, and gave me her old Laredo mountain bike for that. She had me up to thirty miles by then, and this is about the time I found Angela a bike to buy for $75, a great deal on a bike with a nice, light frame and 21 speeds. The music to “Waiting On A Girl” is evocative, to me, of those times under the great San Diego sky. The bridge part is more about life back at the apartment.

I have written my share of joyous songs, and none more so than this one. The subject of the song is my partner the Marc Kane, and the music is my feeling of life with her, in a form I can share.

The opening riff, its signature riff, came about while I was still learning to play Davey Johnstone’s riff in “Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting” by the Elton John Band. Its intervals resemble, though the keys aren’t the same. I had just played it ( badly) in our Soul Rocket Showcase medley at Happy Ron’s Birthday Party probably the week before (he has footage of everyone that night). Was it ten songs in about twelve minutes? It wouldn’t be our last live medley. My rhythm guitar, Luck, is not a cut-away, so I had a little trouble getting Davey’s riff stable. You have to learn to work within the limits of your available equipment.

Originally, the chorus is played first, but live, I have tended to start on first one after the intro to save time.

Lyrics by Lue Lyron

I know a girl, who’s waiting on a girl/ waiting on a girl/
and I know that she’s my girl/ I wouldn’t trade her for the world/ she’s a funny girl, who’s waiting on a girl, waiting on a girl/ but it’s got to be the right girl/ if she’s gonna make your toes curl/ pictures in the night time

1.I know a girl, who’s waiting on a girl
waiting on a girl/ who loves her, and me, yeah/
she can take her bike, out to Ocean Beach/ Draw a pretty smile, listen by the trees, yeah

Oh, but her heart is wise/ see it in her eyes
Naturally sexy, her accent’s from Dixie
She can call the angels, shining by her side
nothing you can hide, take you for a ride

chorus!
I know a girl, who’s waiting on a girl/ waiting on a girl/
and I know that she’s my girl/ I wouldn’t trade her for the world/ she’s a funny girl, who’s waiting on a girl, waiting on a girl/ but it’s got to be the right girl/ if she’s gonna make your toes curl/ pictures in the night time

2.She can take a walk, downtown every day
oh, silvous plait, wonder what to say?
she can go to work, or she can take it easy
wouldn’t mind a baby, wants to make us three, yeah

Oh, from dusk til dawn, she can get it on!
Laughin’ with the wizard, sing it in a song!

BRIDGE
In the middle of the night time
would it shock you, the pictures she sees?
Oh, she’s got the rhythm, but the light rhyme
Doesn’t have a care, there’s so many in the sea, yeah

Alright!
I know a girl, who’s waiting on a girl/ waiting on a girl/
and I know that she’s my girl/ I wouldn’t trade her for the world/ she’s a funny girl, who’s waiting on a girl, waiting on a girl/ but it’s got to be the right girl/ if she’s gonna make your toes curl/ pictures in the night time

It’s every inch a soul song, about a soulful woman.

C Lue

Stranger Land

“Stranger Land” Written by Lue Lyron
1.Freedom is spent in this night hour
Take me from those who crave evil power
on my very soul, on my very soul

chorus one:
Fugitive, refugee,
iron chains, your mastery
strangles my breath,
pitted against me
is any friend left?

Now down by law, I pray for the rain
washing my face of the blood and the pain
in the system, a stranger again, stranger again, stranger again, in a stranger land
/A stranger again, stranger again stranger again, in a stranger land.

2.In my dark hour, Mother abandoned me
damned and betrayed, torn from my family
my voice to the world, still and cold/ my voice to the world, still and cold

chorus two
Now down by law, I pray for the rain
washing my face of the blood and the pain
in the system, a stranger again, stranger again, in a stranger land.
A stranger again, stranger again–stranger again in a stranger land.

(instr. Bridge)
3. Whom to trust? I seem always wrong
faith bit the dust, I made it so long
still will I wait, and I will survive
My mad father’s curse, the serpent of his throne
Bow to this hell, or make it alone,
deep in my blood is my only home…
Bow to this hell, or make it alone, as a …

Chorus one again
Fugitive, refugee
iron chains, your mastery
strangles my breath,
pitted against me
—is any friend left?

Now down by law, I pray for the rain
washing my face of the blood and the pain
in the system, a stranger again, a stranger again, in a stranger land.
A stranger again, stranger again,
Stranger again, in a stranger land.

Dedicated to David Clark, Jr.  Austin and Ci Ci Clark

Love Lyron
7/13/15

This is like a heroic self melodrama of a real person’s life right now. That’s why it’s both besieged and strong.

A simple Dm-C-Bflat-A progression repeating will deliver the whole thing fine.  It’s in the way you play and sing it.