Written + composed July 3, 2011.

I can hear some musical influences in this one: Leonard Cohen's "Famous Blue Raincoat," Tori Amos' "California," and Sarah McLachlan's "Last Dance." First song of the season! Hooray!

Dear Jane, it may come as no surprise
That I'm writing to you today
I guess I could have sent you flowers
In lieu of all the flowery phrases I could say

But you will have to make your peace
With what you get
The way I made mine with your
Shadow of neglect

Chorus:
When I was in a bind
When I had lost my mind
Whenever I depended on
My disappearing vagabond
I quelled beneath her stare
I felt so unprepared
To find myself abandoned
On the hunting ground
The hunting ground

Dear Jane, I tried to see the best in you
And I listened to your life story
With your face turned toward the past you love
Basking in a fading glory

But you will have to make your peace
With what is left
The way I made mine with my
Shadow of regret

Chorus

When I was all entwined
When I was losing time
Rewarded for depending on
My disappearing vagabond
Return my even stare
You've had time to prepare
To find yourself abandoned
On the hunting ground
The hunting ground

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Written + composed July 4, 2011.

Oh, how this one haunted me all day long. I wasn't sure where it was taking me, but I'm glad I was along for the ride because I love where I ended up.  Forgive the blown out bits of sound. Single mic, and all that. And this one wanted to be PLAYED; I was helpless in its wake.  This song is dedicated to gardeners, photographers, and the marriage of the two.

Look through the lens but I can’t get this bergamot right
I guess it depends how I capture and focus this light
Ever elusive as hydrangea blue
Roses that blossom in every hue         
Grass in a fountain and dripping with blood
Snow on the mountain, a silvery flood

Chorus:
Bring on the slipstream to carry me into delight
Bring on the maelstrom of iridescent wingèd flight
Marguerite’s bowing her head as the wind shivers by
And Josie Pye’s waving to Iris who’s closing her eyes
While Lily and Susan caress in the warm summer night

Lady, lie back on a bedstraw of sun-dappled green
Hard to keep track of the coloured-in visions I’ve seen
One step away as I hold out my hands
One flower over a butterfly lands
Jacob and Solomon, Robert and John
Make me a talisman, sing me your song

Bring on the slipstream to carry me into delight
Bring on the maelstrom of iridescent wingèd flight
Marguerite’s bowing her head as the wind shivers by

Chorus

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Written + composed July 6, 2011.

I was watching He-Man episodes and chatting with Kristian about being a kid and watching shows like He-Man and G.I.Joe, and I was laughing a great deal. I didn't post a song yesterday because I started (already!) getting too wrapped up in perfectly-crafted songs. So BOO to that; I'm on vacation. I do NOT (contrary to the assertions in my head) have to create 50 works of art in as many days.

Every time I find myself cowering beneath this mistaken assumption I shall do penance by writing another song in the Childhood Saga. Also, they will be far from perfect, with too many words and simple mistakes. But they will serve a purpose, and may even provide some entertainment! So here you go.

And in case you're wondering? Yes, the euphemisms are intentional. In fact, I challenge you to find one I didn't notice!

I woke up on Eternia, a billion miles from here
Somehow I could breathe the strange and foreign atmosphere
Robot guards and hybrids live in castles made of stone
Ruled by a king and Earthling-queen who sit upon the throne

Everyone who lives here can be slotted easily
Labelled nice or evil, beauty or monstrosity
He-Man leads the good guys, and Skeletor the bad
And heroes vanquish villains and the stupid plans they have

Chorus:
The moral of the story is just throw them in the mud!
They shake that fist right in your face, but every plan's a dud
So turn your back and walk away
No need to run, you've won the day!
Believe me that your best defense is throw them in, throw them in the mud!

Each opponent has a base of secret operation
Getting in seems easy, though, with minor concentration
Skeletor, surrounded by inept and clumsy fools
Never quite has mastered all his magic power-tools

He-Man's alter-ego puts on pink and runs away
Leaving Captain Teela to engage in any fray
But with his magic sword he has the power to transform
Enemies, beware of all the flashy deeds he can perform

Chorus

On occasion you may need to take evasive action
Push a threat right off a cliff or put a guard in traction
You can blow machines up or just throw them to the moon
Rescue helpless ladies, but ignore the siren's tune

On occasion you may need to take evasive action
Push a threat right off a cliff or put a guard in traction
You can blow machines up or just throw them to the moon
Rescue helpless ladies, but ignore the siren's tune

No one's fat and most are fair and walk around in underwear
Though every day begins and ends with preachy moral dividends
Blind dumb luck and faith hold sway, you're full of hope and then dismay
Just close your eyes and count to ten and then we'll do it all again

Chorus

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Written + composed July 7, 2011.

Upon listening to 1) Kieran O'Leary's "Pagans." and 2) Paul Milne's "By the Field the Poppies Grow" I felt moved to write a song about the People of the Hills, as I call them.  The stanzas in Gaelic I wrote years ago, but they suited the song so perfectly they demanded to become a part of it. Hope my pronunciation passes.

Translations:
(intro) It is getting dark/All is as it should be/A thought keeps running through my mind/I feel it in my bones
(outro) By the fire/By the sea/By candlelight/Under the canopy of heaven

Tá sé ag dorchú
Tá gach rud mar is cóir
Tá smaoineamh i m’intinn ar fad
Tá sé á aibhsiú dom
Tá sé á aibhsiú dom

Chorus:
I'm a child of two worlds
Not silver nor gold
You can come very close
But you cannot take hold
You may track where I've wandered
Betwixt and between
If you open your eyes
And observe the unseen

When the cloud casts a shadow
And blocks out the sun
Or you laugh 'til you cry
And a knot comes undone
When you stand on the seashore
And watch the sunset
I'll be there in the mist
That surrounds you, and yet

Chorus

Neither crosses nor stars
In the blue midnight sky
Can fully lay claim to
My birth, though they try
Out of ether or fire
Or forest or wave
I am smoke, I am spirit
I am what you crave

Chorus

Leave honey and milk
In a bowl on the sill
If you keep the hearth swept
I will bear you no ill
Keep iron and ribbon-tied rowan
From me
And be sure to step lightly
'Round every thorn tree

Chorus

If you open your eyes
And observe the unseen
May you open your eyes
And observe the unseen

Cois na tine
Cois na farraige
Le solas coinnle
Thíos mullach an aeir

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Written + composed July 12, 2011.

This is completely autobiographical. I'm one of those who "see" dead people, in a manner of speaking. Although I'm also quite rational, and fully prepared to admit the possibility I've made it all up. Either way, it's something I have to deal with, and writing about it helps to do that.

What I will tell you is that each verse in the song refers to a family member who has passed on, and they help to serve as metaphors for kinds of experiences others might have with the deceased. Death has always consumed my thoughts and personal philosophy. I'm writing a book on the subject, in fact. I find it fascinating, and not nearly as frightening or disturbing as most people seem to.

Death is a taboo subject in Canada, and yet (perhaps therefore) I find I can't stop talking about it. That said, to each their own. Enjoy.. or be afraid. Whatever floats your boat.

The last time that I saw him
He was at the kitchen table
Exactly as he would have sat
The day before he died

And the last time that I saw her
She had drowned and she was dripping
But she sat beside my fire
'Til her dress and hair had dried

The last time that I saw him
He was etched out like a shadow
He kept me safe and comp'ny
Like an angel at my side

And the last time that I saw her
I could make out her reflection
She waited on the white road
And the wind between us sighed

The last time that I saw him
He and I were only children
With eyes of brown, he fixed me
'Til the vision I denied

And the last time that I saw her
Was the first time we had met
She shimmered and she twinkled
And remained there at his side

The last time that I saw him
He came knocking at my door, weapon raised
But I refused to let him in
Be gone, I cried

And the last time that I saw her
She appeared resentfully
For she made it clear she had let go
Farewell, then, I replied

The last time that I saw him
I was dreaming he was sailing
A storm was fast approaching
As he took me for a ride

And the last time that I saw her
She said, thank you for the tea, my sweet
To welcome home these souls
From far across the Great Divide

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Written + composed July 12, 2011.

This began as a joke with a friend of mine who owns alpacas. It was encouraged by a comment of my husband's claiming I turn everything into pirates. It culminates in this geek-lore collection of piratesque characters drawn together at last to serve my musical whim! Enjoy.

I went out on a venture to Olde Alpaca Farm
The boys came all a-runnin' up, effusin' 'paca charm
But one caught me attention: "Be ye pirate?" I began
With only one eye visible, he says, "Sure, I be Stan"

"Then why do you be here," says I, "a-chewin' grass and hay? -
"Ye should be out maraudin'! Come and breathe the salty spray!"
The pirate, Stan, he fixed me with his stare and mulled it o'er
"Agreed," says he, "may fate reveal whatall she has in store"

Chorus:
Perhaps it's 'cause I wore a patch when I was only three
That I be on the lookout now for t'others just like me
I'm out to find me crew so I can be their Pirate Queen
And we shall sail the seas aboard our ship, The Violet Spleen

We set out then together, Stan and me, and found a bar
And who should we discover there, alone, but Tasha Yar
"Ahoy, me buxom beauty, may we join ye for a drink?"
We took our seats beside her 'fore the lass had time to think

"Your feats of strength are famous, will ye join us on our quest?"
"For to plunder," muttered Stan; I laughed it off, "That be a jest! -
"Your talent and your cleverness do put us both to shame"
Then aside to Stan I whispered, "And she has the perfect name!"

Chorus

'Twas then I caught a glimpse of someone seated on his own
He wore a patch and must so be a pirate yet unknown
His face was scarred and surly and he glared with one good eye
I asked him what his name be and he growled, "Colonel Tigh -

"I'm more machine than man," says he. "They tell me I'm created"
"I had a friend like you," says Tasha, "maybe you're related?"
"Why don't ye come with us?" says I, beside the fire's glow
"Why not?" says he, and downs his ale. "I'm frakkin' bored. Let's go!"

Chorus x2

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Lyrics: 'Easter 1916' by William Butler Yeats, September 25th, 1916
Music: July 29, 2011

I hate waste, and a loss of life and the potential life had to create, conceive, collaborate, and connect is nothing but waste. My heart goes out to Oslo, but I have no words. Emotionally (not allegorically) William Butler Yeats' poem "Easter 1916" came to me and demanded to be played, so I set it to music.

These words have haunted my thoughts for days now: "All changed, changed utterly:/A terrible beauty is born." Apologies to Yeats, as I left out one couplet and reversed "done and said" accidentally. Also, there is a whole lot of clipping, but it was truly difficult to sing, I've spent two days on it, and it's time to move on.

I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

That woman's days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our winged horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road,
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone's in the midst of all.

Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse -
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

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Written + composed August 3, 2011.

Sigh. Ok, most people will never have heard of Rocket Robin Hood, and that's probably for the best. It was a cartoon drawn/produced in Toronto in the 60s, and it was still on in the 80s when I was watching the Get-Along Gang, Shirt Tales, and Darkwing Duck.

The premise is there's a descendant of Robin Hood in the year 3000 who lives on an asteroid (that acts mostly like a vehicle) in space, called Sherwood Forest. There are still gold coins in circulation, which he robs from robot invaders with laser guns, and throws down from great heights on the poor on another planetoid, as he soars above them in his rocket boots, brandishing his electric quarterstaff! Seriously. It's insane.

Writing He-Man's story made me laugh, but this one nearly made me cry. I need to pick cartoons I still enjoy watching to write about, so I don't feel this depressed once I'm done.

I need a superman
I need a hero
Save me from old Prince John
In gravity zero
Wearin' a jet-pack
And forest green tights
He's got a six-pack
And he lights up all my nights

He lives on Sherwood Forest
In outer space
There on his asteroid
He keeps his home base
He is a maverick
In our universe
Robbing the rich
To fill a poor man's purse

Chorus:
So, Maid Marian better keep her hands off
Rocket Robin is mine
She can have Little John or maybe Alan Adale
Oh, how they pale
I could never settle for less
Robin's the best!

I am the new girl
In Robin Hood's posse
John talks to squirrels
And Will Scarlet's bossy
Tuck takes a single bite
And throws the rest out
They're good in a fight
But what's this safe-cracking cook all about?

Quickly I got
That this game never ends
For the Sheriff of NOTT
And Rocket Robin Hood's friends
He flies a rocket-horse
Chair through the sky
Victorious, of course
And he barely even has to try

Chorus x2

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Written + composed August 5, 2011.

Here is an acappella tribute to one of my favourite cartoons (seriously, I own DVDs), written from Gargamel's perspective. I could have easily written twenty verses, and that's not hyperbole. Maybe I'll add to it later on. I wanted to write about the Smurfs before the dastardly, modern-interpretation, live-action/CG movie came out, thereby sullying its Belgian, folksy, artist-drawn roots (thank you Peyo) and creating a whole new generation of so-called "Smurfs fans."

As with Star Wars, G.I.Joe, My Little Pony, Scooby-Doo, Transformers, and many more, I will now have to ask the clarifying question: "Yes, you're a fan, but of the original or the new stuff?!" Sometimes progress sucks. Does that make me a Luddite?

When I was young it seemed to me
That we were not alone
That creatures dwelled within the trees
Unmeasured and unknown
So I explored the woodland
And I'll tell you what I heard
Many tiny voices laughing
Though I know it sounds absurd

I knew no one would listen
So I kept it to myself
And looked for any reference
In the books upon my shelf
At last I found an entry on
A strange and blueish race
Living in a mushroom village
In a secret, hidden place

I knew I had to stalk them
So I bought myself a cat
We combed the forest thoroughly
And rarely stopped to chat
My studies had revealed that
I could change them into gold
And they'd make a tasty snack
Or so the ancient cooks foretold

But once or twice I've caught a glimpse
Of something blue and small
I may yet be a wizard
But without the wherewithal
To capture or locate the number -
All I need is six!
But they slip right through my fingers
With their sneaky little tricks

I know a stork delivers them
A baby on blue moons
I know that when they see a female
Everybody swoons
I know that they pick berries
By the bushel while they sing
Still I always seem one step behind
In every little thing

Alone here in my hovel
Azrael's off catching mice
And Big Nose took my dinner
Though I doubt it will suffice
And Father Time and Mother Earth
Despise me even more
Every witch and wizard laughs at me
Until their sides are sore

But I can call up thunder, hail
And lightning in a storm
I haven't found a potion
Or a spell I can't perform
I even made a female smurf
I know their little quirks
Oooh, I hate those happy, smiling
Laughing, goodness-loving jerks!

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Written + composed August 22, 2011.

This is fast and furious. I wrote it for a friend who's been a friend for a very long time. It's a script, and the last line is mine. I want him to read the rest of it, verbatim. I want him to mean it this time. I want him to move on and to fill his life with happiness and fulfilment. I want him to be loved, not abused. Tear off the bandages, my friend, and start again, alone. You are worth it.

I go on believin'
You're the pill I need to take
You go on deceivin'
Bend the bough that wants to break
I go on believin'
You're the pill I need to take
So I'm not leavin'
Bend this bough until it breaks

I would like to find the words
To tell you how it feels
To pull you from the gravity
That's dragging at your heels

It has been so hard
Pulling out the shards
Splintered glass cuts deep
Lip service is cheap

But I go on believin'
You're the pill I need to take
You go on deceivin'
Bend the bough that wants to break
I go on believin'
You're the pill I need to take
So I'm not leavin'
Bend this bough until it breaks

I would like to find a way
To keep from goin' blind
To step back from the twister
That is spinning in your mind

I have weathered shame
Holding onto blame
Shoulders bowing down
Knees upon the ground

Should I go on believin'
You're the pill I need to take
You'll go on deceivin'
Bend the bough that wants to break
I'll go on believin'
You're the pill I need to take
So I'm not leavin'
Bend this bough until it breaks

I have grown so tired
That I barely even sleep
Buried here in clutter
I've forgotten how to sweep

But I won't go on believin'
You're the pill I need to take
You'll go on deceivin'
Bend this bough until it breaks
Won't go on believin'
You're the pill I need to take
So I am leavin'
Mend this heart before it breaks

Mend this heart before it breaks
Mend this heart before it breaks

BREAK IT OFF!

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Written + composed August 21, 2011.

Peter Watkinson (aka Sapient): lyrics, guitar, vocals
Deborah Linden: music, piano
Leslie Hudson: melody, vocals

Debs: Writing this with Leslie and Sapient was pure magic.

Leslie: Debs sat down at the keyboard and came up with a beautiful chord I liked. Then she kept playing and Sapient started writing paradoxical statements, glowing all the while. I got to play with melody, and in the end we all created bits to vocalize. The recorded mix will showcase all these lovelinesses much better. And I agree with Debs - this was magic in the making!

Sapient: I had indeed blagged Debs, Leslie and Mr Crossman into helping with lyrics for White Lightning (coming soon!) when a skirmish was announced. Debs ran off to get the title and I was going to head off to our studio to do that crunchy/shouty thing that I do when Leslie suggested I stay and do the skirmish with her and Debs. Wow. Me and two amazing pianist/singers... really? Oh, but it was indeed a magical hour and I am *so* pleased with the result.

Chorus:
You laugh when you cry
You live when you die
You fall when you fly
Your ground is the sky

You run when you walk
You silently talk
You're dark when you shine
You starve when you dine

You love when you hate
Your free will is fate
Your many is the one
Your moon is the sun

Chorus

You dance when you're born
You heal when you're torn
You're fixed as you change
Your familiar is strange

You swim when you drown
You're lost when you're found
Your day is the night
Your dark is the light

Chorus

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Written + composed August 24, 2011.

I started writing this with a couple of things in mind. 1) I wanted to try to write as close to a country song as I could without getting uncomfortable; 2) I wanted to write a song that was not currently applicable to me and my life. These are big steps for me! In the end, it feels almost wholly inspired by the music of Jann Arden, who's as close to country as I get, and she just dances on the edge.

Plus, I *never* write intimate relationship songs. Ever. So this is another first for me. I'm drawn to the nakedness of this woman's story; she's flawed. I'm glad I had the courage to help her find her voice.

Lyin' on the floor
Starin' at the wall
Waitin' for the phone to ring
But you've already called

Tryin' on that dress
You gave to me last fall
I can still remember
The moment that we stalled

And I can taste your salt upon my lips
And I can hear you breathing
And I can smell your body on my skin
But I can feel me leaving

And I have to let you go
Yes, I have to let you go
And you can get up and go
'Cause I'm already gone
I'm already gone

Slipping from these sheets
I gather up my clothes
Pack them in a suitcase
While both your eyes are closed

I never meant to stay
I'm not the one you chose
I'm followin' the wind
Whichever way it blows

And I still taste your salt upon my lips
And I still hear you breathing
And I still smell your body on my skin
But I can feel me leaving

And you have to let me go
Yes, you have to let me go
Now you can get up and go
'Cause I'm already gone
I'm already gone

It's easy to recover
From a shallow lover's wound
I have no doubt
You will discover
That you're better off

So I have to let you go
Yes, I have to let you go
Now you can get up and go
'Cause I'm already gone

I'm already gone
I'm already gone

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Written + composed August 25, 2011.

My husband, Karl, helped me on this one. We had a brainstorming session and I took notes. Also, he had the brilliant suggestion to add the 'Cobra la-la-la's, which I made into the bridge. I know there's room for work on this one, transitionally, but it's late and I'm putting my perfectionist tendencies to bed. My favourite things about the old G.I.Joe cartoons were the PSAs at the end of each episode. They greatly inspired the tone of this song.

If you need advice 'cause you lack common sense
And you're starting to despair
If you see a minor infraction of justice
And you need someone to care
If you're home alone and don't know what to do
When a pain begins to flare
You may be rescued or maybe chastised
With American flair
G.I.Joe is there!

Chorus:
They roam the world with their banners flying
In red, white and blue
You can tell who they are by the clothes that they wear
It's a motley crew
They have laser battles but no one can aim
So the casualties are few
Whenever there's trouble
They know just what to do
(And knowing's half the battle)

If you keep in touch internationally
With a villainous elite
If you follow orders but hate your Commander
When he signals for retreat
If you advertise by the snake on your chest
That spies are obsolete
Defenders of freedom are hot on your trail
And they bring your defeat
You cannot compete!

Chorus

Cobra lalalalala...
Cobra lalalalala...

Chorus

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Written + composed August 26, 2011.

Um, this is an act of lunacy. Clearly my sanity is hanging by the barest of threads. This morning there were lumberjacks (aka tree cutters) in my backyard and they cut into a branch full of yellow-jackets which didn't like it and went mad. But the 'jacks kept calling the 'jackets "bees" and it annoyed me. Thus, I immortalize their misnomer in song. The moral of the story is don't piss off a poet! (Really, don't even call attention to yourself.) *chuckle* Now who's next?!@

Can you distinguish a wasp from a bee?
I'll try not to speak condescendingly
But humans hear buzzing and panic and flee
It's a case of mistaken identity

You call me a wasp but I'm really a bee
And I mean that, of course, existentially
For our hymenopteran philosophy
Has been building for many a century

Go look at a wasp and then come look at me
He's aerodynamic and predatory
I'm hairy and round and invested in honey
I carry my pollen full-bodily

We really don't want to be bothered, you see
While out in the flowers, collectively
There are even a few who are solitary
Co-pollinating reverentially

A wasp, he is hunting continually
And crashing your picnics relentlessly
He'll take what he wants from you aggressively
And he'll sting you for less than necessity

He's really a wasp but you call him a bee
You lump us together haphazardly
From a distance there may be a striped symmetry
But there's quite a distinction, you must agree

Now, can you distinguish a wasp from a bee?
I've tried to explain our passivity
It's not wise to treat us like your enemy
For the bumbles can sting with impunity

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Written + composed August 28, 2011.

Tonight I was feeling quite mad, as though my mind was caught in a feverish haze. The madness wanted company. Thus, I went in search of an old book and friend, Mr. Edward Gorey's "The Gashlycrumb Tinies." A disturbing little ABC of darkest humour, depicting the demise of various children in various ways, illustrated by black and white etchings. Gorey published the book in 1963.

I'm not supposed to reproduce the words here, so make out the lyrics as best you can. If this kind of humour is yours, I highly recommend this absurdly twisted tiny offering from a like-diseased mind. Here's a Monty Python-style animation that shows you the text and illustrations, which is wonderfully macabre.

The music is basically ad-libbed around a few clashing chords, but in the high and tinkling range. I'm really very sorry. I couldn't help it. I added the final two lines because I wanted the verses to be complete quatrains:

Twenty-six children who met their demise
In ways only Gorey's dark mind could devise

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Written + composed August 29, 2011.

Leslie Hudson: lyrics, music, piano, vocals
John Argentiero (aka Das Binky): lyrics, arrangement, mix

Binky: This was a set of lyrics I didn't know what to do with. I messed with it for a while, and decided I couldn't get what I wanted out of it, so I just posted it as a lyric only entry. Leslie read it, restructured it and added to it, wrote a piano-and-vocal tune and sent it my way. I loved it... it was completely different from what I'd had in mind when I was writing the lyrics, and it gave a totally different feel to the tune.

To her piano, I added a doubled grand, acoustic guitar, a cello, some tympani and gong, and some harmony vox. Also, since the core of the song is effectively taking the emotion behind the "To Be or Not to Be" soliloquy, modernizing it, and putting the imagery on a raft adrift at sea, I added an ocean storm throughout, with swells of thunder, rain and waves popping up in non-vocal parts. My hope is that it frames the song as a solitary moment in the endless flow of the sea, portraying our own struggle with mortality as a meaningless battle against an uncaring natural world. Also, it's cool sound. Enjoy!

Leslie: Well, I don't know what to add to that. He said it all. Only this: I happily played my part in this depressingly uplifting collaborative collision. And would do it all again.

I close my eyes and the raft floats farther out to sea
The release of knowing what but not when washes over me
There is a comfort in inevitability

The feeling of jolting yourself before you can sleep
The feeling of catching yourself before the chair tips
The feeling of swerving back into your own lane
Just as the headlights blow past

It's always the moment of choice
When I cannot find my voice

I close my eyes and the darkness pulls me out to sea
The relief of knowing where but not why washes over me
There is a comfort in a lack of integrity

The conscious decision that, Today I will not fall
The conscious decision that, I will stay in my lane
The conscious decision that, Tomorrow is not lost
How many times can I decide?

It's always the moment of choice
When I cannot find my voice

The ocean washes over me
The stinging water sharply in my chest
Knowing that I'll never have to make this choice
I'll never have to make this choice
Again

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Posted August 29, 2011.

Peter Watkinson (aka Sapient): lyrics, music, vocals, metal band, mix
Deborah Linden: lyrics, vocals
Leslie Hudson: lyrics, vocals
John Crossman: lyrics
Stephen Telford: vocals
Devin Melanson: vocals

Sapient: FAWMstock was great. But the ice cream was better... I wrote the backing track between 06.30 and 08.00 on the Saturday morning while everyone else was asleep. Debs, Leslie and Mr Crossman helped me write the words. Messers Telford and Melanson joined Debs and Leslie in the studio to add their magnificent vocals to the piece. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, White Lightning!

To Emlenton we all came
By the Allegheny river shore
We knew there would be campfire cookouts
We really hoped there might be smores
Quite unprepared we stepped inside
To a wondrous sight before our eyes
Crossing Perry's event horizon
See the black beneath a layer of ice

Cone or cup - WHITE LIGHTNING!
Hit me up - WHITE LIGHTNING!
Need a tub - WHITE LIGHTNING!
I'm in love - WHITE LIGHTNING!

It draws you in, velvet black
Streaks of white that stoke desire
Satin temptress, eyeless void
The need for lightning spreads like fire
Even on Yep Yep Boulevard
Siren song rises through the mist
Abandon Adams, Spotty and Bud
Powerless to resist its frosty kiss

Cone or cup - WHITE LIGHTNING!
Hit me up - WHITE LIGHTNING!
Need a tub - WHITE LIGHTNING!
I'm in love - WHITE LIGHTNING!

Ontario, Washington, Wisconsin, Indiana,
Maryland, New York, Pennsylvania, Minnesota, Noord Holland,
I hear it calling me....

Villagers from all around
Came to see the FAWMstock crew
But fatal words from Nancy N
Meant that there were very few
"Free ice cream!" for performers
Meant that we just stayed inside
No space pirates, "Oi"s or laughing when crying
In Emlenton the music died...

Cone or cup - WHITE LIGHTNING!
Hit me up - WHITE LIGHTNING!
Need a tub - WHITE LIGHTNING!
I'm in love - oooo WHITE LIGHTNING!

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Written + composed August 29, 2011.

For a girl I once loved, and I'll leave it at that. The story's in the song.

Bitter and Sweet (80s Mix)

Leslie Hudson: lyrics, music, vocals
John Argentiero (aka Binky): everything else

Leslie: This is an 80s pop version of the original. I was watching literal versions of 80s music videos before I wrote this song. Once I finished and posted it, I knew something was missing from just the piano/vocal, so I asked if anyone wanted to play acoustic guitar for me. Binky told me to forget about acoustic guitar: this was an 80s pop song. I told him to get out of my head. I wrote it and sang it, but Binky did everything else. Because he rocks.

Binky: This was a blast to record. As soon as I heard Leslie's version, this version popped into my head, just about fully formed. Long live over-produced 80s fun! Synths are a mix of Reason and Komplete, drums are EZ Drummer Nashville, and guitars are all my pretty little Ibanez Artcore through the Line6 X3. Hope you dig!

There's a curl to her hair
At the nape of her neck
When the weather is humid and warm
But she never perspires
She keeps everything cool
And I'm drawn to her willowy form

Watch her bend in the breeze
Walk away on her toes
Like a dancer she moves by design
I could lower my eyes
But I'll never be free
Of the figure that drifts through my mind

Chorus:
And all of this happened so long ago
When the fates so entangled our feet
But I still keep her picture locked safely away
With the memory of bitter and sweet

There's a hint in her laugh
That I'm missing the point
When she watches herself in the mirror
She's a vibrant bouquet
Of conditional smiles
In pursuit of a lucrative tear

She can bend to her whim
By the subtlest glance
The forlorn, the endowed and the craved
So I keep at arm's length
But within easy reach
For the moment she needs to be saved

Chorus

So she followed the drink
And neglected to eat
As she played with her boys in the smoke
And they used her desire
So she'd snap when she burned
And they sneered when she started to choke

And I watched from afar
As she tumbled and crashed
Into everything left in her wake
As she suffered and bled
To the colour of chalk
I withdrew when she started to shake

Chorus

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Written + composed August 30/31, 2011.

Yes, I have coined the term Procrastinatrix, the most accurate term to ever describe me! And I know there are more of you out there. Sisters, unite! We now have a theme song. This was born out of my annoyance at having a deadline yesterday to leave the house, and I was wasting the day doing the dishes and making soup and performing other non-musically mundane tasks, watching the time slip away from me.

With a couple of hours to go I sat down at the piano to MAKE myself write something, anything, and this wonderful term popped into my brain. I believe I literally squealed with delight. And thus, the song came to life! Plus, I *believe* I had a kind of hysterical overreaction yesterday morning and needed to laugh about it and my tendency to flip out about the inconsequential. These lyrics are soooooo unfortunately accurate.

If it wasn't for this nasty weather
I would probably go outside
Pour some water on my thirsty garden
Gimme some space 'til I decide

If it wasn't for this stupid paper
I would probably stay inside
Type an email half as long as a book
Gimme some space 'til I decide

Chorus:
Don't push me
'Cause I'll push you back
(And I'll tell you when I'm) ready
'Cause, honey, I'm a procrastinatrix

If it wasn't for this twisted ankle
I would probably go outside
Get myself to someone who can fix it
Gimme some space 'til I decide

If it wasn't for this messy kitchen
I would probably stay inside
Stave off this debilitating hunger
Gimme some space 'til I decide

Chorus

If it wasn't for this blasted chainsaw
I would probably go outside
Pull the weeds and mow the lawn and prune trees
Gimme some space 'til I decide

You don't know how bad it gets
Can't keep the deadlines at bay
Why can't I set my own pace?
Why can't you just go away?

If it wasn't for this stinkin' laundry
I would probably stay inside
Sort it out by colour, give it a wash
Gimme some space 'til I decide

Chorus x2

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Posted September 3, 2011.

Peter Watkinson (aka Sapient): music, lyrics, metal band, vocals
Leslie Hudson: lyrics

Sapient: On the way home from FAWMstock Leslie had an idea about writing me some words about properties of certain plants. I'm now glad I don't have a garden. And I plan to stay in Leslie's good books... These words were just so easy to write to. As soon as I got them I thought "Swedish melodic death metal". Obviously. So that's what I tried to do... Enjoy!

Aconitum napellus
Brush me and I'll numb your skin
Swallow my asphyxiation
I will stop your heart

Karwinskia humboldtiana
Blackened berry lies in wait
Paralyzing limbs and lungs before
I choke your throat

Arcane, yet in plain sight
I walk among you all
Hide my craft within my words
I am the humble poisoner...

Zigadenus venenosus
Drool and froth at every bite
Pulse will quicken, cause confusion
I will shake you dead

Claviceps purpura spores
Taste me and I'll make you dance
Fill the streets with wild convulsions
I will make you burn

Datura stramonium
Seeds that sent the soldiers mad
Fevers rise and comas deepen
I will craze your mind

Cnidoscolus angustidens
Hairs like daggers made of glass
Scratch and claw my toxic needles
I will give you pain

Arcane, yet in plain sight
I walk among you all
Hide my craft within my words
I am the humble poisoner...

Your time has come
My will be done
One drop is all it takes
I leave no lasting trace

Papaver somniferum
I will lay you down to sleep
Feed me grief and your desire
I will hold you tight

Abrus precatorius
Bead my seeds and breathe me in
One red kiss for curious children
I will end your days

Dichapetalum cymosum
Hide me in a final meal
Warp and seize your vital organs
I will kill again

Conium maculatum
Drink my sweet paralysis
Gently I'll caress your heart but
I will keep you sane

Arcane, yet in plain sight
I walk among you all
Hide my craft within my words
I am the humble poisoner...

Arcane but in plain sight
My glamours keep me safe
I walk next to you
You'll never meet the poisoner

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Written + composed September 4, 2011.

Leslie Hudson: lyrics, melody, vocals
Peter Watkinson (aka Sapient): music, metal band, arrangement, mix

Leslie: This is one of the rawest songs I've ever written. I could not get what I needed from the piano, so I asked Sapient to build me something I could crawl into and claw my way out of, and that he did with brilliance. I felt like I truly exorcised an old demon by singing this one to the surface, finally. It left me with a feeling of catharsis, to be replaced shortly thereafter by euphoria, and a beaten down throat. Small price to pay. Everything I write is so controlled. This is what happens when I let go.

Sapient: Leslie as you have likely never heard her before. A fantastic vocal performance that was a real treat to mix! I tried a few tricks on the vocals as I don't get the chance to work with proper singing very often... I think it worked.

Your heart skipped when you heard me sing
And my potential blossoming
You said, “God wrought an angel’s voice
“A poet’s tongue: so we rejoice
“You should be writing hymns of praise
“To bring him glory all your days”

I smiled and tried to find the words
But “God” and “wrought” were all I heard
And then I knew you didn’t see
That I was more than “Praise to Thee”
And I began to recognize
The fire burning in my eyes

I am passion, I am rage
I am a forest fire blaze
I am lightning, I am flame
I am suff’ring, I am chained
I may try to hold it in
But I am more than flesh and sin
I am alive, I am the essence now reclaimed

You sent a letter in the mail
You wove for me your own dark tale
Of Ouija boards and dabbling
And warned me off of travelling
Down twisted paths you thought I walked
Though you and I had never talked

I frowned and threw the note away
But others followed: six today
Assaulted by a faceless crowd
Silent words that screamed so loud
Judging and rebuking, all
So desperate to prevent my fall

I am passion, I am rage
I am a forest fire blaze
I am lightning, I am flame
I am suff’ring, I am chained
I may try to hold it in
But I am more than flesh and sin
I am alive, I am the essence now reclaimed

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Written + composed September 4, 2011.

This is really all Charlie Cheney's fault. I couldn't sleep this morning and said so on Facebook:

Leslie: Can't sleep. Maybe I should write a lullaby.
Charlie: Ah.. here's a lyric... "I can't sleep... because I fear clowns will eat me..."
Leslie: Stop! Don't write anymore! That line occurred to me, too. Let's not encourage the words into song..
Charlie: But it could be beeeeeeeeeaaaauuuuuuutiful
Leslie: Rgh. Damn your dark mind, Charlie Cheney. Mine needs a rest!

Then I went looking up songs on the subject and found Alice Cooper's. It wouldn't be original to write another one, so I thought about it a bit and the first verse popped into my mind. Then another, then another, until I had 7 and the song was more than 6 minutes long. So I cut 3 of them, even though I like them, because this joke just isn't funny for 6 minutes. (I've included them below.) Of course, because of the tone of the lyrics, I had to start with a children's song - the most prevalent and innocent song I could think of - and then mess with it. Enjoy!

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray that I won’t hear the creak
Of floorboards there beside my bed
As something gently taps my head,
Or hear a whisper in my ear,
“Just close your eyes and have no fear” –
If I should die for this mistake,
I pray they won’t be at my wake!

Now I lay me down to snooze,
I pray I had the right to choose
The paper that adorns my walls
With tilted smiles and juggling balls
Suspended there and looking down,
“Just turn around, you creepy clowns!” –
If I should die for this mistake,
I pray they won’t be at my wake!

Now I lay me down to rest,
I pray, that on the blanket chest,
The dolls that stare with glassy eyes
Would keep from blinking, I despise
Their silent pretense, posing blind,
“Just tell me what is on your mind!” –
If I should die for this mistake,
I pray they won’t be at my wake!

Now I lay me down to dream,
I pray that I won’t hear the screams
Of ghosts and goblins, haunted toys,
Awaiting all the girls and boys
Who go to sleep without a prayer,
“Just make-believe,” you say, “so there!” –
If you should die for this mistake,
I pray I won’t be at your wake!

Extra verses:

Now I lay me down to nap,
I pray I didn’t hear a rap-
Tap-tapping from behind the door
That leads into the cellar store
Beneath the stairs, the dust is stirred,
“Just stop that knocking, use your words!” –
If I should die for this mistake,
I pray they won’t be at my wake!

Now I lay me down to doze,
I pray the hanging mirror shows
A dim reflection, rather than
The shadow outline of a man
That peers out through his window pane,
“Just come or go, don’t stand there, framed!” –
If I should die for this mistake,                    
I pray he won’t be at my wake!

Now I lay me down to snore,
I pray that I won’t hear the door
That’s opened every 3:15
By someone I have never seen
Who giggles like a child at play,
“Just keep it down,” I often say –
If I should die for this mistake,
I pray she won’t be at my wake!

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Written + composed September 4, 2011.

Peter Watkinson (aka Sapient): metal soundscape, vocals
Leslie Hudson: lyrics, narration

Sapient: Mostly FAWMstock was a happy gathering at which people wrote songs and ate ice cream. But one night we went into the hills. Into the trees. In the darkness. We ate at a campfire, but all around us were trees. Black, silent trees. That night I couldn't sleep. So between one and three-thirty am I wrote a backing track that I called Into The Trees. The next day Leslie heard it, and her eyes lit up. She said she knew what she could do with it. This is what happened. Listen with the lights off. I double-dog dare ya...

Leslie: This is a modern day folktale. Remember, never choose the left fork in the road. It is always bad news. Also, don't wander the woods alone at night. You have no idea what those trees are up to. You have been warned.

I am walking down the road, lost
I can’t find my way home
There is no one to ask for direction

Trees line the verge, both sides of me
Like marching soldiers
Keeping their eyes on me
Ahead the road is narrowing
And they are getting closer with every step

Maybe I should turn around?

No, there’s nothing back there
And those are just trees
I’m being paranoid
Trees don’t whisper
That’s just the wind

There’s a fork in the road
Which path should I take?
Left or right? They look the same
I choose the left, it draws me
Into the trees

It leads me deeper into the forest
Grass grows down the middle
And then swallows the path entirely

Ahead I see a light
Flickering in the darkness
Am I saved?
It’s a fire! A roaring fire

I lose the path beneath my feet
But it doesn’t matter
The fire leads me on
Into the trees

I reach a clearing
I look for people, but no one else is there
I’m alone

Slowly I walk toward the flames
Needing their warmth
Needing their comfort

But the branches within it are strange
Like forearms, burned down to the bone
Sacrificed limbs to feed the bone-fire
The need-fire
Tree limbs, human limbs
I can’t tell them apart

I hear a murmur
Carried on the wind
Or maybe just the wind
Whispering
“This grove will be your grave”

I try to run, to find the path
Retrace my steps
But I’m surrounded
And I know I can’t go back
Into the trees

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Written + composed September 4, 2011.

Leslie Hudson: lyrics, vocals
Kristian Børresen: everything else

Based on the lyrics of Katy Perry's "Kissed A Girl"
Samples from Star Trek: TNG S6 E26 and S7 E1, "The Descent"

The other day I was watching 'The Descent' where Data experiences his first emotion. I was rather hyper at the time. Data looks at Troi (who asked what emotion other than anger he felt when he recently killed a Borg) and says, "I believe it was pleasure," and I immediately sang, "I killed a Borg and I liked it..." Thus the idea was born!

To be honest, I could have left almost every lyric alone and the song still would have been appropriate to Data's story. But that required no work at all, so I changed the lyrics a lot more than I needed to.

Then I asked Kristian if he'd be up for making this thing with me and he agreed. He basically did everything. He even completely overhauled my vocals because apparently I can sing metal but not this blasted Katy Perry song. But the tone suits the storyteller, i.e. an android, so all is well. This is geeky in the extreme, but that's how I like it.

We beamed down to the planet as
A rescue party
But we fell under phaser fire
The Borg were shooting
Not what we were used to
They tried to kill us all
It was just self-defense
We had to get them

Chorus:
I killed a Borg and I liked it
When he was tryin’ to choke me
I killed a Borg and I liked it
I hope my Captain don’t mind it
It felt so wrong
To feel so right
I smiled when he fell, that night
I killed a Borg and I liked it
I liked it

One Borg survived, he has a name
I think it’s Krosus
He’s in the brig, he seems to know
My android nature
It’s not what I should do
But we get off the ship
Go find my brother, Lore
I must obey him

Chorus

There might be something wrong with me
It is not ethical to be
Part of this synthetic army
But I am no puppet
I think I could get used to this

Chorus

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Written + composed September 5, 2011.

I was feeling sorry for myself so I started writing sad and whiny lyrics. By the second verse I was in full sardonic mode, laughing at the whininess with derision. Then, suddenly, I had the urge to put these words into the mouths of Disney Princesses everywhere. So I wrote a duet, suited to a musical, and made my point. I did, right? I think so. Plus, I threw in a little Dickens at the end. It seemed appropriate.

Princess:
I am emaciated
A hollow shell of who I was
Underappreciated
This shouldn’t hurt the way it does
I’m not affiliated
With anyone on the throne
I feel so humiliated
Standing here alone

Why does no one love me?
I’m such fun to be around
I’m the life of every party
When my feet don’t touch the ground
So why am I alone tonight?
Just staring at the wall
Why doesn’t someone save me?
Come and take me to the ball

Feminist:
Seriously? Maybe it’s because...

You are commiserating
With reflections in the glass
You’re far from scintillating
You’ve never studied more than class
And it’s debilitating
To watch you long for your chance
You are exasperating
There’s more to life than romance

Why must you be rescued?
Why can’t you save yourself?
Go and choose your own adventure
Don’t just sit there on the shelf
Life is so uncertain, yet
You take it all as read
Stop believing in the story
Write your own and use your head

Princess:
But I want to be a princess
‘Cause I’m pretty and I pout
And I want a fancy castle
It’s the life I dream about

Feminist:
But your castle’s in the sky
And you have two feet on the ground
Relationships are not a
Matrimonial lost and found

Princess:
I need someone to love me
Like the flower needs the sun
To be worshiped and adored
Or to be swept away and won

Feminist:
You want to be a trophy
For a picture-perfect man
And then you’ll feel fulfilled?
Is that all that you have planned?

Princess:
I have memorized the stories
And before mine says, The End
I’ll live happily ever after
My disheartening little friend

Feminist:
Only half the stories end that way
You’re being quite naïve
It’s really quite astonishing
The crap that you believe

Princess:
There’s nothing you can say to me
To change my made-up mind
I’ll plug my ears and stamp my feet
‘Til I become a bride

Feminist:
Good luck with that, you silly girl
I will not waste my breath
May you not waste away between
Your wedding bells and death

Princess:
May you be happy in the life you have chosen

Feminist:
Thank you, I will be

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Written + composed September 6, 2011.

Poem from Star Trek: TNG S6 E5, "Schisms"

A long time from now, in the year 2369, an android named Data will (in the course of exploring his poetic side) compose an ode to his cat, Spot. If for some reason you don't know what I'm referring to, go watch this.

Felis catus is your taxonomic nomenclature,
An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature;
Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses
Contribute to your hunting skills and natural defenses.

I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
A singular development of cat communications
That obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
For a rhythmic stroking of your fur to demonstrate affection.

A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
You would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not being utilized to aid in locomotion,
It often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.

O Spot, the complex levels of behavior you display
Connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.

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Written + composed September 8, 2011.

This is a love song to my favourite place in Canada, Cape Breton, part of the Atlantic province of Nova Scotia. It's the closest I can get to Ireland, and my home away from home. I've taken many trips out there, and it's painful I'll have to wait until next fall to go again.

Nothing compares to the beauty of Cape Breton in the fall, when the whole island hosts an International Celtic Music Festival called, Celtic Colours. There's music everywhere, every night, for almost 2 weeks straight, and jam sessions til 2 AM with artists from Canada, USA, Ireland, Scotland, England, Wales, Brittany and Gaelicia.

It really is a phenomenal experience, and I highly recommend it to anyone. I'm missing it this year, and whenever the leaves begin to turn, my heart is tugged eastward. I wanted to turn my longing into something more. It's the smallest of gifts, but it's heartfelt.

For those without the Gàidhlig (Scots), I'll translate the phrases I've used:
ceud mìle fàilte = a hundred thousand welcomes (traditional greeting in Scots)
ciamar a tha thu? = how are you?
tha gu math = I'm well

Ocean waves rolling in the Gulf
As the sun sinks down
Drivin' up along the mountain road
I pull off to the side
Watch the sunlight paint the whales in gold
Pinned between the sea and sky

If I see a thousand other stars
I'll keep Cape Breton in my heart
If I hear a thousand other calls
I'll know her by the lilt of her song
I've got a ways to go before I'm home
But it's been awful nice
Hearin' music every night
And "ceud mìle fàilte,
"I'll bile the keddle, bye"
And they know the wind
By the colour it blows
When it comes in off the lakes
And across the hills someone whispers
"Ciamar a tha thu?"
Tha gu math

Great blue herons flying through the dusk
As the daylight wanes
Walk along the rounded rocky shore
I pull my sweater on
Watch the sky fade into midnight blue
My breath hangs on the cooling air

If I see a thousand other stars
I'll keep Cape Breton in my heart
If I hear a thousand other calls
I'll know her by the lilt of her song
I've got a ways to go before I'm home
But it's been awful nice
Hearin' music every night
And "ceud mìle fàilte,
"I'll bile the keddle, bye"
And they know the wind
By the colour it blows
When it comes in off the lakes
And across the hills someone whispers
"Ciamar a tha thu?"
Tha gu math

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Written + composed September 12, 2011.

This is me playing around in the key of G#m. It seemed appropriately moody. I'm improvising, I made up the melody as I went along, and the words were basically stream-of-consciousnessly written. I actually hit a wall, and was listening to songs I'd already written again and again and again, and feeling all the words below. So there it is. Take that, 50/90.

I've been spoiled by the elegant turn of a phrase
The finesse of a lyrical lift
A humourous story, a passionate plea
I'm a sieve that can no longer sift

Is it possible I have said all I can say?
Up against a double bar line
Penned into limbo, I'm out of the flow
In a lack of expressive design

Chorus:
My voice has been broken
I can't shed a tear
My memory is haunted
I'm swallowing fear
Been so close to the light
That it's burned right through my skin
And I can't find the words
Or the notes to begin

I'm resisting the bitterness caught in my throat
That I'll never sing something as sweet
I've lost the essence of everything since
To the struggle that's dead on its feet

And there isn't much point in attempting a bridge
Between distant and crumbling walls
Burn it, break it, cut it down
Watch it as it falls

Chorus

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Written + composed September 14, 2011.

This music is very much me. This is how I sound when I play on my own, without constraints and expectations. I actually ad-libbed this the first time I played it, with its structure intact. I've kept it sitting around for weeks, waiting for words or polish or something, but it stands on its own just fine. This is my only instrumental of the season. I love playing the piano in the dark.

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Written + composed September 14, 2011.

This is the last installment of the Childhood Saga for 50/90 2011. I couldn't just write an even number of them, so Scooby-Doo got the nod. I've always been struck by the blatant stereotypical characters in this beloved cartoon from my youth. We have a beautiful couple and an odd couple, brave/cowardly, smart/dim, curious/hesitant, tall/short, thin/fat, leader/follower, muscular/lanky, industrious/lazy, etc. etc. etc. The pairings are distinctive. And the secondary characters are just as deep: good/bad, evasive/helpful, friendly/cranky.

At least the costumes and props were elaborate. They were so convincing, in fact, that it took a whole episode to notice that the levitating ghost shadow flying through the centre of the room, was really just a man with a sheet over his head.

There's a musical riff that plays throughout the episodes when they're walking around some place creepy (which is all the time) and I tried to incorporate it into the music of this song. The rhythms don't match up exactly so I had to coerce it a little, but it might sound familiar to those who paid attention to this kind of detail.

There are four high school kids who drive 'round in a van
With their dog, Scooby-Doo, I think they're in a band
And solving mysteries for strangers in distress
Is their one vocation, but they always make a mess

No matter where they go someone is playing tricks
And someone gets annoyed when they're thrown in the mix
They break and enter, sleuth pro bono, help unasked
Finding clues and setting traps for villains yet unmasked

It's not surprising when they find out who's been bad
But minor characters are shocked that they've been had
The gang won't call the cops until they've solved the case
They would rather not be saved before the final chase

Daphne is dim but pretty, never looks a wreck
Fred is the bleached-blond hero, ascot at his neck
And Velma's rounded, short, bespectacled and smart
Shaggy is a beatnik and a coward from the start

And at the focal point of this bizarre quartet
A 'Dane that talks, who's more a buddy than a pet
He'll walk through fire for a couple Scooby Snacks
Popping them like pills has always helped him to relax

It's kind of hazy but I think they had some friends
Batman and Richie Rich, the networks let them blend
And Scrappy-Doo, and 3-D films with S.M.G.
Scooby-Doo for everyone from sea to shining sea

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Written + composed September 20, 2011.

Leslie Hudson: lyrics, vocals
Deborah Linden: music, piano, vocals

Debs came over to practice band songs, and we made soup, and played Rock Band, and drinking was involved. Over the course of the day we came to the conclusion that women have a hell of a lot of power but aren't always so empowered. We've accumulated a nasty collection of labels over the years whenever we take power and own it. This pisses us off. Thus we wrote a witchy, bitchy song, and Leslie got to use "fuck" in the lyrics, which made her very happy. We hope to demo this in the future with more noise and tangled harmonies.

I walk along in silence
From the cradle to the grave
With a heightened sense of panic
‘Cause the things I find I crave

Will distort the world around me
Find a target I can’t save
From my dark and twisted tendrils
Tell me how I should behave

I’m a slut because you want me
I’m a bitch because I won’t back down
A whore because you fucked me
And I didn’t want a wedding gown
A tease because you watch me
I’m a witch because I’m on your mind
Temptation ‘cause you’re next to me
So curse the ties that bind you, boy

I hold on to the power
That could bring you to my door
Like a paradox of virtue
With a black hole at my core
From the nymph born in the forest
To the siren far from shore
We’re the women of your fantasies
Now hear our fucking roar!

I’m a slut because you want me
I’m a bitch because I won’t back down
A whore because you fucked me
And I didn’t want a wedding gown
A tease because you watch me
I’m a witch because I’m on your mind
Temptation ‘cause you’re next to me
So curse the ties that bind you, boy

There’s no exquisite torture
You can conjure to inflict
That can equal your obsession
With the fear of being whipped

I’m a slut because you want me
I’m a bitch because I won’t back down
A whore because you fucked me
And I didn’t want a wedding gown
A tease because you watch me
I’m a witch because I’m on your mind
Temptation ‘cause you’re next to me
So curse the ties that bind you, boy

I walk along in silence
From the cradle to the grave
With a heightened sense of panic
‘Cause the things I find, I crave….

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Written + composed September 8, 2011.

Leslie Hudson: lyrics, music, piano, vocals
John Crossman (aka Xman): lyrics, music, guitars, vocals
John Argentiero (aka Das Binky): mix, everything else

Leslie: Ok, I wrote this song with John Crossman in mind and asked him if he'd like to do it as a collab with me. He replied by sending me 6 pages of notes on what could be changed/improved (and he was right, by the way), but it took us until the middle of October to finally get the song recorded, mixed and posted! But maybe it will still get listened to. Maybe. Listen to it! It's a good song! (Take over, John...)

Xman: Most of that is true and none of the names have been changed to protect the guilty. Leslie did all the heavy lifting, the Johns just added some stuff later. Specifically a week late, in my case. I like the essence of the song a lot, and it has heart.

Binky: So Xman sent me this song as said "Can you add some bass?" and I said "Not unless you let me turn it into a Herman's Hermits song." He didn't answer, but I did it anyway. The drums were added way after the fact, so they don't fit perfectly, but I think it gives it a nice bouncy feel.

Open the door
The sun is shining on the lawn
Beyond these walls
The morning dew is nearly gone
I wander out
Pick up the paper, wave hello
You’re at the fence
But please don’t tell me ‘bout
The painful way you’ll go about

Chorus:
The day you’re having
Kids are crying
You’re fighting with your wife
Clouds are building
Can’t help feeling
Unhappy with your life
Your job’s depressing
Stocks are falling        
Everywhere there’s strife
But you wouldn’t give it up for anything
So don’t complain to me
Get on with your life

It starts to rain
So I go out in my backyard
Walk on the grass
But you are taking it quite hard
I hear your voice
Your party plans you’ve rearranged
To your chagrin
It isn’t personal
There’s something you can change about

Chorus

I know where you’re coming from
‘Cause I’ve been there once or twice
But I left it all behind and so can you
If you follow this advice:

Chorus:
Turn around that day you’re having
Pick your kids up
Make up with your wife
The clouds are castles
Not a hassle
Be happy with your life
You make the world
The one you want
Don’t focus on the strife
‘Cause you wouldn’t give it up for anything
So don’t complain to me
Get on with your life

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