Week Four - Sweet and Light

This project is a strange little beast. It's hard to predict what each week will bring and if it will even feel resonant by the time it goes public. The tenor of the whole world feels like it shifts dramatically every day. Maybe I'm just paying closer attention than I used to. It's hard to know which songs matter in times like these, but I have a feeling they all do. 

Here are some more thoughts on Art in the Time of Monsters from the Reverand Osagyefo Sekou.

a happy song about horrible things

Week four. I wrote this song a while back but it hasn't quite made it into my regular rotation. When I started writing the lyrics, the song had a very different feel. The chords were minor, the tempo slow. It's a breakup song, after all, shouldn't it be sad? But then I realized I had no sadness, no bitterness left over for the memory it described. So I swapped in a fast, tuneful accompaniment and instantly liked the song much better. Once at a show I introduced it as a "happy song about horrible things". 

Ultimately, it's really just a happy song. And that's how I feel, not just about the song, but about the memory as well. I'm happy it happened, happy it's over, with no malice in the memory. Or at least very, very little ?

The video is of some seashell wind chimes that someone hung off a tree in the State Park lands near my house.

Sweet and Light
Metal chairs and tables set to burning in the sun
while we sat and flicked the ashes like we were the only ones
We took our coffee sweet and light just like the Spanish do
Oh I take it black these days but when I don't I toast to you

Just two sweet and tragic lovers
doomed for destruction at the start
with your veils and your cages
and my optimistic heart

I won't deny I played a part and likely played the worst
But if I broke your heart I hope you know you broke mine first
Train went off-track somewhere between forgive and forget
and now you show up in my dreams more than I care to admit.

Sometimes I wish you well
Sometimes I hope it's hell for you out there

Just two sweet and tragic lovers
doomed for destruction at the start
with my daggers and my curtains
and your unsuspecting heart

The loneliest I've ever been was laying by your side
I whispered to the city lights they told me I'd survive 
And they were right, so much more than right

Your memory's a living room you rearrange each night
where soured love reduces to a pinprick in your life
My memory's a microscope I gladly pay the price:
it doesn't hurt me to be honest, doesn't cost me to be nice.

Sometimes, I wish you well
Sometimes, I hope it's hell for you out there.

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