I don’t like writing sad songs. I understand that some folks want to (as someone said to me) “experience the full range of human emotion” but I’ve had all the sadness I’ll ever need, I don’t have to go searching for it.
Ireland sings to me most nights and some days. We spent a month there in 2005. I’ve been trying to go back (and if possible, stay) ever since. Yes, I’m one more of those people who want to be Irish. Seems everyone with a certain bent is inexorably drawn there.
As much as I miss the greens and whites of northern Wisconsin, I’ve long been in love with the purple orange sunsets of the Arizona desert.
This song owes much to The Sons of the Pioneers, especially by way of Michael Nesmith’s album Tropical Campfires and the songs Moon Over the Rio Grande and Twilight on the Trail.
Sheriff Ed Tom Bell in “No Country for Old Men” spends a lot of time talking about what’s wrong with the world, and making a lot of sense.
Please note: I’m apolitical. I see a lot wrong with the whole world, not just one country, and the ‘country’ McCarthy referred to in Bell’s monologues was the region he lived in, not a geopolitical entity. I’d hate for anyone to think I had a bone to pick with any particular person, place or thing. But if you read Cormac McCarthy, stuff like this is bound to leak back out eventually.
I intentionally sang it in too low a key to get the sound I wanted.
Another 6-minute wonder (that is, about 6 minutes to write.) I spent 5 of them searching in vain for one more word that rhymes with dreams, then rearranged it so I didn’t have to.
When the subject is my Best Beloved, it just isn’t that hard. I’ll never know if they’re any good because I don’t care as long as they make her smile.