Don’t worry, be happy. Words to live by, yet we all worry about something. Some people worry more than others, but we all worry to some extent. Where does it end? The worry that is. Can we grab worry by the throat and kill it? or do we get lead around by the nose for the the span of our years by the fears of the unknown?

This song is about not worrying about what we had or what we will have. We used to do certain things and now we do other things. We can go back and get those things or even relive them because we’re different and even the places we did those things are different. So let’s be happy with what we have and think about the actions that will affect the changes to what we have. Don’t look around for things that we don’t have right in our hands because this is where we’re supposed to be.

Let me know what you think! Leave a reply, tell a friend

Peace & Happiness,

~dg~

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Where You’re S’posed to Be

We put our pennies on the table
I got coffee you got tea
Then we sat and pondered Shakepeare
At a café on Bleeker Street

But babe this ain’t New York City
And we ain’t 20 any more
Now we’re livin in the suburbs
And weekends on the Jersey Shore

Don’t look up
Don’t look down
Don’t look back
Don’t look around
This is where we’re supposed to be

They say you can’t buy happiness
It’s in the eye of a child
You can’t find clarity
When your thoughts are runnin’ wild
So be still – nothin’ to do
The world turns and so do you
Try to see
This is where we’re supposed to be

Baby’s cryin’ for no reason
Phone is ringin’ off the hook
Is this a perfect moment?
Why don’t you stop and take a look

But babe we’re born to distraction
Even though the candy’ in our hand
So let’s just sit here and take it easy
Stick your feet back in the sand

Don’t look up
Don’t look down
Don’t look back
Don’t look around
This is where we’re supposed to be

© 2008 by EmptyHead Musikwerks

Where You’re Supposed to Be by Darryl Gregory is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

week 3 ~ family as a still life subject

Family is such an idea rich place to pull stories from – you just have to be careful how you write about those family members so as not to burn bridges. So far I’ve written songs about my mother and father and a song commemorating my brother-in-law who recently passed away. Now I add to my collection a song about an Aunt I never met who died in 1948.

Myra Jean Gregory was the seventh of nine children and was my father’s sister. She was a self-taught artist and musician who played piano for her church and for her family. I was told she could play any song by ear and knew all the hymns when they passed out the hymnals for a family sing. She died tragically of a brain aneurysm in 1948 when she was only 19 years of age.

I have no idea how she found her way into my head recently. I had been thinking about a piano – an old upright that was out of tune and dusty. You know the sound of those pianos: tinkly-out of tune-keys sticking and pedals knocking. Yet they can still produce an accompaniment for a song or two. I asked myself who would play a piano like that and why? Then out of nowhere Myra Jean was there – it was her piano and it had been sitting there untouched since ’48. There were ghosts in the keys and chords. Now that’s an intriguing story.

I like the way this song unfolds. It starts out simply with just three chords and then quickly goes to the chorus and a minor chord. Repeat that for a second verse and chorus, then a bridge. But on the return of the third verse the chord progression gets more complicated and lends itself to a more emotional out cry. This song started out being in a straight four-four feel but I thought it lacked something so I tried it in 3 and all of a sudden I saw Myra Jean playing a waltz and her siblings dancing around the room. I also took liberties with the lyrics: she was 19 not 24 – but I needed a rhyme with door, and my parents were married when she died – but again a nice rhyme and interesting allusion.

The song sounds like the raw country life with just guitar and voice, but it would be nice to add some instruments to fill it out at a later time. Take a listen and let me know what you think about Aunt Jean’s Piano.

~dg~

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Aunt Jean’s Piano

I run my hands across the keys
Black and white and yellowed with age
The pedals groan – dust makes me sneeze
Old music notes fall from the page

As I play
As I play
As I play
Aunt Jean’s piano

I was not privileged to hear her sing
She died before my parents wed
They say she pulled angels from this thing
Then angels carried her from her bed
And I play on Aunt Jean’s piano

Jean – Won’t you play that number
About Jesus near the cross
Her Pa loved the old Methodist Hymns
Jean – Please play something so’s
We can have a dance
Her sisters and brother gathered round
And they all wanted a chance
To play
To play
To play
on Jean’s piano

I feel her ghost inside the chords
As they drift around this room
I see her dancing on the porch
Singing an old Texas tune
God called her home too young
She was only twenty-four
So many songs left un-sung
A piece of furniture by the door
Now I get to play
I play
I play
Aunt Jean’s piano

© 2009 by EmptyHead Musik Werks

Pieces of Me by Darryl Gregory is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.