http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html Brad Dunse: The Blog Jannis' PHPRss class - http://www.jannis.to/ Tue, 31 Aug 2010 12:58:37 -0700 http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_this_old_living_room
Nonetheless I began to muse on my home as a kid growing up in Upper Michigan. That house is still standing along the Menominee River and not tore down fortunately.
As I pondered on bits of things to put in the verses I drew from various remembrances and put them in one home, one song.

For instance the burn mark on the hardwood is really a burn mark on 1970 something green carpeting in my bedroom when I was a teen ager. I remember watching Rockford Files and some reruns of old shows late at night, smoking up a storm. My mom opened the door and said “Are you smoking in here?” Of course my not knowing they probably knew I smoked by then blurted out “No mom no”¦ I’m not smoking!” Yeah right”¦ those words somehow made it to her ears through a blue tinge of smoke illuminated by a 12 inch black and white TV I had at the time.

As we look around our homes and parents homes we see things others do not. Maybe a certain flaw, picture, or corner of a room reminds you of a time or story no one else gets but at the same time they have their own story or memory for those same flaws, pictures or corners of rooms.

The patch on the wall really didn’t exist. What I see in my mind when I sing that is myself about 12 years old, my brother about 15. You know how brothers are”¦ mouthing off to each other and of course the older doesn’t take kindly to it so he proceeds to wrestle you to the ground and spit in your eye. Because you’re majorly ticked off at that you reach up and punch him in the face. He in turn grabs your legs and swings you around like a carousel and of course letting you go mid swing and you sail off someplace in the room. I remember that in our garage.

The little carving in the door jamb did happen. It wasn’t in the living room closet door jamb as we didn’t have one of those, but my bedroom closet. When I was all of what”¦ 11 years old in sixth grade. We had a class trip to Mackinac Island and of course kids as they are on such a big trip had to pick girlfriends to make it completely teenage grown up. I couldn’t tell you exactly how we paired off, but I was hooked up with a gal by the name of Corine just as in the song. We called her Cori though. She actually lived up the road a couple miles but we rarely said boo to each other, nonetheless my imagination ran away and before you knew it I had found this little secret code book”¦ it had various squares and circles with X’s and dots”¦ one for each letter of the alphabet. I was soon off to the closet door jamb carving “Brad Loves Corine”.

I never had a Mickey Mantle card, at least not to my recollection. My first 10 years I grew up in southern Wisconsin so I had Cubbies cards. Not sure why I didn’t have Milwaukee’s team. I do remember at a very young age looking down in one of those floor grills for something. When my kids were young we had a house that had a cold air return about two feet long and not quite that wide. It was flat on the floor and the kids had all kind of stuff falling in there.

I started playing guitar when I was 14 and spent many a time moving the needle on the LPs and rewinding cassette tapes learning some rock tune or another. Though it wasn’t in the living room, as a teen I was always playing and practicing in my bedroom, by then with a Marlboro bouncing smoke rings up and down off the inch long untrimmed guitar string I left as a cigarette holder when playing. I’ve long since quit, my lungs and wallet both thank me. There are likely thousands on thousands of little rock stars who played their latest tunes on plastic or beginner guitars in front of family in living rooms across the country.

As I said the old house I grew up in, all of them including the ones I had as a younger family man are fortunately still standing”¦ making memories for other folks. However I couldn’t help imagining how I’d feel if those memories were torn down with the walls of those houses. Even though I haven’t and will not be in most of those old homes ever again, it still is a sad thought to think of them torn down one day. I wonder if that carving is still in that door jamb or if the new owners saw it and sanded it down or tore it off and put new in. I’m better off not knowing.

Listen to a “dirt roads” version at http://www.braddunsemusic.com/files/sbts.m3u

This Old Living Room
©2010 Brad Dunse

That burn mark on the hard wood was from my first cigarette
Just lookin’ around there’s some things you’ll never catch
Like that patch in the wall there”¦ man my brother really swung
My head landed two feet from where Jesus hung

In this old living room
There’s a part of me
That’ll never leave
Go down with these walls
My chest gets tight
Can hardly feel my feet
At just the thought
Of a wreckin’ ball
So I’ll take what I can take before I lose
These memories about to be entombed
With this old livin’ room
With this old livin’ room

Inside the closet door jamb carved along the cove
There’s “Brad loves Corrine” in a secret code
The heat duct ”˜by the window stole my Mickey Mantle card
And over there’s where I became a huge rock star

Repeat chorus

Well I can take my parents loosin’ jobs
Packin’ up and move to town
Sell some things to help them out
But do they have to tear us down

Repeat chorus]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_this_old_living_room Tue, 31 Aug 2010 12:58:37 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - The Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_veras_shoes
Perhaps it is not this way for every artist type, lord I hope not, but I find when I get deep in creativity, the practical, common sense, plan ahead side of me disappears somewhere. You could liken it to one of those times when you’re really tired and maybe stayed up all night. You take an afternoon nap on the couch or on the living room floor next to the pup. You’re sleeping really good when suddenly the telephone rings, you open your eyes, and you’re wondering “What? Where am I? What time is it? Is it morning already? No wait its an afternoon sun shining in, and I’m where? The living room?? What the”¦” You sort of have this stretched moment of not knowing what end is up.

That is similar to coming out of these creative modes at times, going from mind wandering creativity to task driven practicality. So what does that have to do with Vera’s Shoes? Well I was in one of these creative modes, doing lots of writing and I was meant to be getting ready to visit my parents for a week. So the procrastination, which is also a bi-product of creativity for me, waited until last minute to begin packing. So I hurried up, got packed and got it all done, grabbed my lap top, phone, digital recorder, guitar, suit case, pulled on some shoes, made sure I had keys and all and off we went.

Not being able to drive anymore due to vision loss, my wife drove me half way across the state and my dad did same. Transferring stuff from one vehicle to the other it was discovered in my “creative to real world blur” when getting ready, I had slipped two different sneakers on. OK so another embarrassing disclosure here *smile*.

So that’s how Vera’s shoes showed up two different colors in the song. The difference with her is she can’t afford to buy a new pair and basically took two different pairs of old shoes she had, making one pair out of them, and we see people make judgments or ridicule her. Vera was a name I pulled from listening recently to an indy artist Marian Call”¦ wonderful performing songwriter. She had a song that talked about a girl named Vera and its not a common name so I thought it’s a good a name as any.

The song obviously is about the singer making a transition”¦ living our lives true to who we are and not taking part in the big “show” in life. I’m thinking of the old Styx song Grand Illusion”¦ “America spells competition, join us in our blind ambition, get your self a brand new motor car”¦ and someday soon we’ll start to ponder, what on Earth’s this spell we’re under, we made the grade and still we wonder who the hell we are”

Vera is not wondering who she is, she knows and is living it no matter what anyone else thinks. She’s living out what she feels is true to her, not buying into the illusion that we’re competing with one another. Over the years I’ve seen so many people feel they are in competition with those around them. I suppose that if one has a material focused mind one could use what others have as a tool or motivation or benchmark on their trek of being who they really are, but I think that is more rare than common and pretty much view it as a huge insecurity in life. Lacking the self assuredness to live a life they can call their own, they latch on to elements of other’s as if grasping at straws to find themselves. From a distance it may not be so evident, they look like they got it together, and in reality they push themselves and do accomplish much, yet it is not truly them, creating the vacuum of always wanting more. From a distance they look like they are really living and yet they are dead in side, and those such as Vera that have meager means in life are secure, peacefully happy, and live their life with joy in the midst of their dream, even if it doesn’t make them tons of bucks. I’m not suggesting however just because someone has “things” or focus on that, that they are automatically insecure, that isn’t true either. Its all about what is inside and why we do what we do.

Another line that comes to mind is from a Jon Vezner song Tell Me What You Ache For”¦ “It doesn’t interest me if you’re faithful and your true, if you’re not true to you, then where’s the truth in that?” If I’m not true to what I am inside, I wonder just who I am living for?

Its all about just stripping down all the crap in life, look at what “is you” and just live it no matter what anyone else thinks. I have a Martin guitar. Often times I get “Oh you got a Martin!! Woo wooo!” I didn’t get a Martin because I set my mind to it or even wanted one. The short story is I went into the guitar shop, sat down, had my sweetie hand me guitar after guitar not telling me what it was, how much it was or anything. I played them and narrowed it down to the guitar I play today. I had passed up several guitars that were much more expensive. It was about that instrument being “me” not about me being it. Make sense?

So go get an Escalade because it fits your rear end the best when driving, the radio is like no other and it is the only one that has self adjusting seats which you just really dig”¦ and not because you’ll turn the neighbors heads when you drive in the yard with it or try to make some sort of “one up” status statement in life.

Just be yourself, be securely happy being you, in the end, what else is there?

Stream the “dirt roads” version of this month’s song at: http://www.braddunsemusic.com/files/sbts.m3u

Got something to say? Just send me an E mail... glad to hear from you.

Vera’s Shoes
©2010 Brad Dunse/Buck/Outlaw

Vera lives her dream
With purpose and a smile
A guitar on her back and faded jeans
Can’t afford new clothes
Or the ridiculing eyes
At the different colored sneakers on her feet

I can tell by looking at this color coded world
I’m a poorer man with matching grays and blues
Her wealth is living in her gift and not her pride
Lacing up her life in her truth
That’s what I can see in Vera’s shoes

She can sleep til noon
When nothing’s goin’ right
But she don’t toss or turn on her dream
Like a pool of peace
Teeming with life
You can tell she’s in it deep

You know a dead man when he’s cut he won’t bleed
And when I pinch myself I find I can not bruise
I’m shakin’ off these graven clothes and tourniquet of pride
And wrap this naked life in the truth
That’s what I can see in Vera’s shoes

It’s time, it’s time”¦ time to come awake
Live life, live life, live it like I’ve prayed

I can hear the doubters say boy you’ll never live
Well if Vera can I know that I can too
Fact is if they look close I’m already dead
But I’m coming back living in the truth
That’s what I can see in Vera’s shoes
Vera’s shoes]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_veras_shoes Sat, 07 Aug 2010 15:59:46 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - The Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/dues_and_dreams
What was Albert talking about? Going after his dream, what he felt he needed to do. It wasn’t a matter of “if he could go” it was a matter of “he’s goin’ and that’s it”.

Are you the kind of person, or do you know the kind of person that can’t go to the movie lets say”¦ until the housework is done? A month later the movie they wanted to see is off the billboard and a new one is in its place. “Monday I was going to go but I had to fix my truck. Then Tuesday looked OK until I saw the grass needed to be cut. Wednesday is the day I promised I’d help out around the house some so I thought I could go Thursday but I had the basement storage area tore apart looking for that blasted tool I lost, so had to straighten that room out. Friday night is the start of the weekend and I was just going to treat myself to the movie and have fun”¦ but then the dishwasher broke and I had to run to get a part for it. Saturday I couldn’t go because the garage was getting messy and I just couldn’t take it one more day. Sunday I thought for sure I’d go, but the grass needed cutting again and weed whacking too this time. Monday”¦ well Monday was”¦”

Sound like anyone you know? The same thing can happen with one’s goal or what we feel is our life purpose. If we wait for just the right time to follow it, we’ll never do it. Life has this way of keeping us busy all the time if we want. Somewhere along the way, if you’re too busy to pursue your life dream”¦ you are too busy period.

So I’ve got a question for you. How much is your dream worth to you? How much would you pay to achieve it? It was interesting to see Albert’s last comment there”¦ “I got to pay my dues somewhere.”

Speaking in public terms, we pay for our cars on a monthly basis and think nothing of it. We pay for our houses on a monthly basis and think nothing of it. We pay for new clothes, the kid’s dance lessons, new glove for Jimmy because he out grew last year’s and think nothing of it. We pay for our lawns to be cut, cars to be washed, we pay, we pay, we pay.

Want an interesting look on your face? Look at your car payment if you have one, if not maybe your house payment”¦ if you got neither, send a little my way as an investment in my dream if you’re not investing in yours *smile*. Anyway look at your car or truck payment and break it down per week, per day, per hour, per minute. While that can be sobering, look at what you spend on it. Then in equal terms look at what you spend on your life purpose, or the thing that gives, or could give you joy. Are you spending any on it? None?

Then look ahead 10-15 years and realize there is an excellent chance you’ll either not have that vehicle any longer or it’s ready for the bone yard Then look at if that money was spent on your dream, goal”¦ life purpose how much more of a lasting investment would that be? Sort of like asking how much are you willing to spend to make some memories. You can’t limit it. Is your dream any less important?

I’m not suggesting you run off half cocked and dump your car, what I am suggesting is in our dues of truth, the “investing in self” deserves to be in there too isn’t it? How much more “it” let’s say than putting in a new pool in the back yard.

How much do you value “you”, living out the “truth” in you? The part that makes you joyful everyday and not griping you need to show up to work yet another day. We have day jobs, that’s part of life. Some are lucky to either just happen to like their day jobs they picked and all is well, or they’ve purposefully made their dreams their day jobs. Or perhaps minimally their day jobs are a means of supporting the real life, their goals and they look at that day job as a sacrifice or “due” to fund their dream and that’s fine, as long as it is in fact funding it and not just earning money to buy more stuff to take care of and rob even more time and resources from your dream.

I can give you example after example of successful people who put in dues toward there dream. John Gorka, a long time songwriter’s songwriter spent his first years living meagerly, less than $100 a month rent expense. For those of you younger folks that don’t remember the good Colonel, KFC was started by a Colonel Sanders who spent two years living in the back of his car at age 66 trying to pedal his recipe to restaurants”¦ this after he got his Social Security retirement checks and said “I ain’t living off of this the rest of my life”.

So if you have a dream, a goal, a life purpose that you’ve been putting off because”¦ the stars aren’t lined up just right and you don’t have tons of money saved up for the journey, maybe its time to re-evaluate and find out just how much, or little your dream means to you in tangible measurements. How much do you believe in yourself to see it through? How bad do you really want it? What dues are you willing to pay to make it happen?]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/dues_and_dreams Thu, 05 Aug 2010 21:42:04 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - The Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/beating_your_little_nephew
This has nothing to do with whooping up on your poor little nephew. Never mind the fact that he can program your DVD player’s clock with one hand while simultaneously text messaging his buddies with the other”¦ “Yeah I’m over at my uncle’s place programming his home theater center after the power failure”¦ again!!”, Never mind the fact he’s tricked out his computer with high RPM fans, gold plated connectors, a liquid cooled operating system while you struggle frantically to figure out which remote turns the volume down on the TV as the phone rings for the third time”¦ just one more ring and it rolls to the voice mail system. Or the fact he can boot, double boot and probably triple boot his computer while you just want to really boot it”¦ I mean just haul off and kick that son of a gun after the blue screen of death at the “Balance Complete” button at the end of your one hour long checkbook reconciliation. Or that he can game internationally over the net understanding 10 different dialects of the Spanish language and you think you’re hot stuff because you can correctly pronounce the ingredients on the back of the cereal box most mornings. Never mind that he learned computer mechanics by building a computer one weekend and did a little surfing getting info off some geek forum and in that same weekend you managed to successfully gather all your user names and passwords in one sane place so the next time you’re on a call with tech support from India you can shave a good 20 minutes off the call. Never mind that he also ate all your pizza when you slipped off to the can to look for the headache meds as he has your head spinning.

No this is not about that, but it does relate to your sweet darling little nephew which you’ll see in just a second. This blog is about taking risk in chasing something you really want to do. Something you find a challenge to do. So many of us have some sort of dream, or should I say goal? I guess whether it is defined as either is up to you. A goal is merely a dream with a plan.

Years ago I invested in the Charles C. Givens financial program. While I actually did learn some things from there, I use to be bothered by the “dreams list” he said to create. Other self help programs too have this “dreams list” type thing. It always seemed to be this pointless thing. I looked at dreams as little more than a mind wandering hallucinogen state that one was actually awake and couldn’t excuse the entries away by saying I was half asleep when I wrote them.

It bothered me because as dreams go, they had no plan, no mental connection or task list in how to get them. At least not one that seemed tangible to me. But Goals, now that is getting to the nitty gritty. However I did have a problem with goals later on too. As hard as I tried to achieve them, and I did achieve some just fine, I didn’t get them all and was left feeling I failed somehow.

So what does this have to do with beating your little nephew? Well? The thing is with these goals, these dreams, you know the ones I actually did get accomplished? I felt good about achieving them. In fact some were pretty impressive to me at the time. As I wrote a song this week on basically living what you feel inside and not what others think you ought or falling into that status symbol lifestyle, I began to think what it means, what’s the motivation behind taking the risk and living what you feel?

Ready? OK here comes your little nephew metaphor. Imagine the tables were turned; your little nephew wasn’t a technological genius and really not that good at gaming. In fact, he’s kind of a little dork now that you think of it and you feel sorry for him so you patronize him by playing a game. After you beat the snot out of him for the surillionth time in the latest interactive X Box war game, how motivated would you be to continue playing him yet one more game? Not very. But, let’s suppose he proved himself a worthy opponent, like the one he really is. And you’re getting sort of jazzed about his avatar taking a couple of virtual hits from your guy. You and he are really battling it out on screen now, laughing, making comments trying to screw with the other one’s head a little bit. Legs and arms are flailing, sweat is rolling, heartbeat is jamming 85 BPM, teeth are showing with huge smiles one minute and a friendly grit the next.

Let me ask you. What is the difference in these to analogies? I’ll tell you what it is”¦ the game is boring as all get out unless there is a chance you will lose. If you know going in that you’ll always win? What fun is that? It’s like racing your granny to the corner and back, unless of course she has one of those scooters they advertise on TV.

The point is, unless we have a risk, a chance in losing in our endeavor, we don’t really get excited about it. We might be OK with life, we might be satisfied, but think about it, when you went in for that job interview and you were one of many in the waiting room, how good did it feel to get the job? Even if you didn’t get it, you learned something that gave you fuel to try to win again.

So that’s what it’s about, beating your little nephew, the geek squad leader of X Box gaming. Same goes for your dream. Its risky yes, but isn’t it so much more rewarding living what you feel inside knowing that you have a risk of losing and a chance of winning rather than living day to day knowing that at the end of the week, the beginning of the next will provide a boring repeat? I’m not suggesting we have to live with one toe clinging to the edge all the time, I’m just saying our dreams, our aspirations, what we feel inside, the thing we are really jazzed about in life, our gift, our thing that lets us look at the clock one minute and the next minute its 5 hours later”¦ that’s where we ought live and not let the risk of failing get in the way because that’s really part of the trophy isn’t it?

There’s no pleasure in winning, if from the start you know you can’t lose. Think about that a second.

Now go get ”˜em!!]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/beating_your_little_nephew Mon, 26 Jul 2010 19:54:02 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - The Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/battlefield_casualties
Perhaps this is a guy thing or a schmaltzy predictable metaphor, but life with its invariable challenges is sort of like a battlefield. We jump out and start marching and before we know it something or someone gets in the way, tossing pop shots at you trying to dissuade your course. It could be a health issue, an economic issue, a relationship issue; it could be any number of things.

Now I’m not saying life is a drag, far from that, I think life is absolutely fantastic, that is important to remember as you read further. But we do have our battles from time to time which are not all bad really, they build character and also help strengthen the soldier and toughen up the skin under the uniform.

Sometimes as a soldier in life we are fired upon with unfriendly fire, the company of men, your team of compatriots, have all run for cover and suddenly you find yourself on the battlefield alone. You sort of look around and no one else is in sight. There’s a strong smell of powder in the air, a smokey haze washes the horizon with the rolling echo from the gunfire that just took place, but the barrage of gunfire has stopped. Standing there vulnerable wondering what to do, you ease forward carefully. Suddenly out of almost nowhere the shots ring out again. You duck for cover to miss being hit but you look down and you’ve been hit. Not fatally, but its enough to slow you down some for sure. You wait it out and again it’s silent. “They must have assumed they got me and left.” So you get up, start walking and proceed on with your plans, your goal. Again suddenly a few shots ring out and “bam” you are hit again. Again not fatally, just winged. As you proceed to your goal you find you are fired upon again and again by an unseen enemy. Sometimes near misses, sometimes just grazed and sometimes it’s left you limping pretty good until one day”¦ something is different. This time”¦ this time you managed to see where the shots came from. You are shocked to notice it. You’d never in am million years expected him to be taking shots at you. As you look open mouthed down the barrel that is pointed at you,, you recognize the hand that grips the firearm. You hear yourself shouting”¦ “You? You! It’s been you shooting at me the whole while! Why?” Staring down the barrel there is a faceless arm aimed at you, and you are shocked to see it is your own.

Now remember I said it was important to note that I feel life is fantastic. This is not a Freudian post of conscious self-infliction or suicide. What I’m getting to is sometimes out on the battlefields of our plans, goals, aspirations and life dreams”¦ we are our worst enemy.

What do I mean? Sometimes we hear ourselves say things like” What makes you think you can succeed in your goal”¦ who do you think you are anyhow?” Or maybe “That compliment that person just gave you? That’s awesome but they’re just trying to be encouraging, they’d probably tell anyone that just to be a supportive person. They don’t really understand what is needed to succeed in this field.” Or maybe it’s”¦ “See the role model you have? You know where you want to be someday? They are so far ahead of you, they started when they were young, you are a late bloomer, and they are so much better in what you do than you, how in the world do you expect to hang with them or be seen as their peers?” These thoughts are bullets that will wound any goal or aspiration”¦ fatally if one takes enough of them beyond the skin.

Recently I watched an old movie, the old comedy classic “Blazing Saddles”. There is a scene where the newly appointed sheriff, a man of color, rode into town and all the white folks had him cornered out in the street and ready to pull their triggers. The Sheriff snapped his own gun from the holster, held it out in front pointing it at himself and started to spout stuff like “OK y’all! Put your guns down or I’m gonna shoot this man dead! I mean it now put ”˜em down or he’s a goner!” The people looked incredulous at him and a couple of them said “Better do as he says”¦ he’s not kidding”¦ he’ll do it!”. The sheriff then walked himself to his own office at gun point while the town folks worriedly looked on , walked in the door, shut it, put the gun away, sat down and said to himself “Brother, you are soooo smart”¦ and they are sooooo dumb”.

As long as you have the gun aimed at yourself, wouldn’t it be more productive to hold yourself hostage like this sheriff did and bring yourself to safety from those voices? After all they really are pretty dumb anyway. Remove all those voices and replace them with ones that encourage. Sometime ago I started a Word doc file I call Dumps Buster, the name itself would imply that I’m not a stranger to self-inflicted wounds on the battlefield of goals”¦ I am not. In this file I’ve pasted emails I’ve gotten from people. Unsolicited encouragements. Everything from folks who’ve attended a gig and wrote to me, to others who’ve shared the mike with me and commented on my music, to someone I regard highly as a folk legend in my region who asked to cover one of my songs, to professional hit writers who have really complimented me and gave awesome comparisons to songs I’ve heard on the radio for years. Why do I need to be reminded of this on occasion? Probably because often times with artistic types comes perfectionism, and no one is perfect and things begin to turn inward. I’ve seen over confident people who are totally oblivious to what others think outside their presence and soooo do not want to go there that I tend to over compensate. As the journey goes along there will be less need I’d suppose. I know I’ve made distinctions in the past which before that time, certain things would bother me and I’d be self-conscious of them. Post-distinction I can see a more accurate representation of a rejection or even compliment.

The battle begins when one enjoys some form of artistic acknowledgment and a voice inside will say “Yeah but”¦” and it is right then, right there you can hear the cocking of the hammer and it needs to stop right then and there because nothing constructive will come after that point.

A friend of mine pointed out recently that I would in no way let someone tell my son, daughter, wife, or any of my friends the things I tell myself”¦ as I’d likely be performing a little unlicensed dentistry on those voices. He then asked why are you letting them talk to you that way?

I don’t think we can go through life without making some point of reference or measurement of where we are in our efforts. I once read where Bob Dylan said about his music “I really don’t care what people think about it, if they like it fine if not fine”. While there is some benefit to that, being your own genuine unique individual not letting the rest of the world form you”¦ I don’t really think he’d have left Minnesota, changed his name, hung out with artists and musicians and toured and etc. if he didn’t want people to listen and appreciate his music. I think for him it was a tool to combat or even his way of over compensating internally second guessing himself, but that would never be an admission.

So its time to holster the pistol, gag the voices, and as the good book says “let others sing your praises” but then also accept them face value and not second guess them, and yes even cop a little of Dylan’s mentality where needed.

One awesome distinction to realize if you have any such battles on your way to your goals, is honestly look how far you’ve come by dragging baggage of a second negative “you” all the while, just think how far you’ll spring forward if you shake him off and let him lay on the battlefield?

I’ve heard it said time and time and time over by artists and industry pros”¦ “No one will believe in your music like you do, if you don’t believe in it, it’ll go nowhere.”

It’s time to believe!]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/battlefield_casualties Thu, 08 Jul 2010 10:29:17 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - The Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_everybody_heals
I began to think of how his tantrum is just his frustrations at the moment and way of dealing with the things he encounters in life right now, and one of the big instigators of such behavior is sibling jealousy when the new baby comes along.

I began to think how that little boy isn’t much different than the rest of us really. We all pitch a fit in our own way. For some it might be more escaping reality by getting lost in a video game, watching movies, or worse”¦ playing guitar and writing songs about it. And some such as the guy in verse two, dealt with his losses in life by turning to the drink.

About the only thing this poor soul has authority over in his life is kicking the pigeons and squirrels off his park bench which he earned by squatters rights. As puzzled as he is about his life’s loss, I get the feeling he’ll pull out of it though I didn’t complicate the song with that. That is another song itself there.

I also began to think of how we tend to disregard our service folks. Oh sure we suddenly become patriotic when a platoon is deployed and there is a public send off, or when they return and there is a public reception. But what about the guy who didn’t come back with a flag draped over his military issue coffin? What about the guy who came back and had to deal with a disability in life?

Living with a disability no doubt influenced this verse. That and a few service people I’ve met over the years. I can easily see a decorated service man who lost vision strolling through a park or sidewalk going unseen by others. The uniform makes them want to look but the guide dog makes them look away uncomfortably as he approaches. What’s worse is they ignorantly ignore him because they assume his blindness precludes him from knowing they are there and in fact decided to not acknowledge him with a “good morning” or the like”¦ one begins to wonder which one is blind. He walks with pride and yet the Purple Heart medal grows even deeper in its hue from the bruise of being ignored or somehow seen as less than deserving of other’s friendship or sociability.

Some time ago at my work I use to see a fella in a wheel chair. I got to talking with him one day and found out he had served a couple combat tours, one of which was in Vietnam. I was so mesmerized by his story of all he went through and all the health issues he was yet battling trying to get straight, I totally forgot to tell him thank you for his service and sacrifice”¦ thanks Edward, I so apreciate you. I believe he is out in California now finishing up his PhD. Every time I saw this man he was by himself, as others with
a disability I’ve seen at my workplace.

I tend to lose respect and patience with folks that have trouble being real in life the more I live on this earth. I don’t mean I’m cantankerous towards them, but I just lose respect for them. People are people and before we judge them for what they might appear to be, let’s maybe give them the benefit of the doubt? You might be pleasantly surprised at what friends you’ll find in life. Where they are in life, dealing with whatever they are dealing with does not mean that is all they are about or all they’ll be, just like you are not even at this reading.

So next time you see someone you might think is different and you have an initial response of avoiding them? Try approaching them striking up a conversation and don’t be afraid of offending or breaking them. Just be yourself, be real.

The chorus of the song is simply sometimes it isn’t easy to express or explain the things we go through. The little boy can’t say “Hey mom? Umm. How about some attention here? I mean just because you got that new kid, doesn’t mean I’m chopped liver here”¦ come on”¦ let’s do something just you and I for old times sake.” Instead he knows all he learned previous, crying gets what he wants.

The homeless fella doesn’t know how to explain that maybe he lost his house, his job, and because of that maybe his family? He doesn’t have the energy to explain himself yet again and so quietly climbs in his bottle to forget while he contemplates it on a park bench. Of course we all hope he gets passed it in life and I’ve a feeling he will.

The soldier doesn’t know how to explain that just because he’s a little different physically than he was before, he’s still the same guy. He decides to walk with chin up and chest out despite his daily hurt from people assuming he’s less than worthy of conversation, a job, joining in everyday life by invitation of others.

All in all we can’t take judgmental aim at them, instead come along side them, hear them out just like folks hear you at times, and just be real.

You can stream a dirt roads version of the current month's Story Behind The Song With Your Media Player By Clicking Here

A question or something to say? E Mail Me Here

Everybody Heals
©2009 Brad Dunse

There's an angry little boy throwin' sand around the box
Stompin' feet and kickin' at his mom
She's spendin' too much time with the baby these days
And he'll recognize her pacified clichés

And it's hard today
With the world as it is
And it's hard to explain
About the casualties we live
And it's hard to take aim
Everybody heals in their own time and way

There's a homeless fela beddin' down on the park bench
Crumpled liquor bag for his head
Sternly pullin' rank on the sparrows and the squirrels
Still puzzled by life's twists and turns

Repeat chorus

One look at me and you'll see I'm no different
I'll just hang all my troubles on a song

There's an Army uniform walkin' down the street with pride
Four legged friend for his guide
It'll go unnoticed but there's purple on his heart
Colored by the bruise of disregard

Repeat chorus

”¦Everybody heals in their own time and way]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_everybody_heals Thu, 01 Jul 2010 09:57:05 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - The Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/casting_the_right_bait
Wouldn’t that be awesome? Well technology would in fact allow me to do that, but I’m actually sitting at my desk in the greater Minneapolis/St. Paul area listening to a CD drive rip a CD to my hard drive. The low groan of the drive interrupted by my daughter’s cat meowing as it contemplates scaling the side of the desk only to tramp across the keyboard for a lap landing, tipping up its head, as well its tail expecting to be petted. Instead of a warm gentle lake breeze blowing, a constant cool hits the bare feet from the AC running. I do hear a gentle metallic sound but it’s of silverware in the other room being extracted from the dishwasher then being dropped in the drawer. The water too is making a gentle noise but it’s from filling the hull of the kitchen sink and not rippling the bottom of the boat.

There is good news and there is good news. The good news is although I had the ability to write a blog while on vacation in the boat this past week, I decided to enjoy the moment rather than spoil it with technology”¦ other than the belated Father’s Day call I took on my cell phone in the middle of the lake from my daughter currently living in Kyrgyzstan”¦ talk about two different cultural poles there. The other good news is I can sit back now and reflect on a wonderfully memorable and relaxing time on the lake as mentioned above, and on top of all that, it was spent with my dad.

As a writer last week I was reminded through a quote I heard of the importance of what and how I write. The quote says something like “It’s not what one says or does that will make folks remember you, but how you made them feel.”

As a songwriter, that is my job. That isn’t always easy but it is always fun. Songwriting is very much like fishing to me. Each song is new bait cast out in the water of life. It’s the music and melody that cast the words out like the line off the reel. At the end of the line, attached to the hook is the emotion I’d like an audience to feel. As the song is played the line is cast out, reeled in, and at the end of the song, when that last note rings out and fades off into the distance, that’s when the song is pulled out of the water and over the edge of the boat. That’s when I find out if I’ve got a keeper or if the song gets tossed back into the abyss to be fed some more and mature. Or if the unfortunate circumstance when the distorted hook totally mangles the bait to a point of non-repair, the song is thrown to the gulls and never heard from again.

In whatever you do, whether its raise a child, interact with co-workers, greet someone at a cash register, give someone directions to their destination, draw a cartoon, paint a picture, write a song, play an instrument, communicate daily with your loved ones, or do your “day job” day in and day out, whatever you do”¦ how you make others feel will cause them to both remember you and decide whether they wish to keep remembering you either positively or negatively.

In the end, it is up to you how you decide people will remember you, do what you do with gusto, sincerity, and feeling, and most of all enjoy the journey. It is the principles, values and beliefs that guide your journey”¦ my hope for you is your ultimate goal is on the road you are on and gets you to your designed destination and you are not stuck in one of those unmarked round abouts not knowing where to turn off *smile*.

As always I'm happy to hear your thoughts and comments. Feel free to E Mail Me With Your Thoughts]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/casting_the_right_bait Sun, 27 Jun 2010 21:44:06 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - The Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_harder_ways
I write this month’s edition with the risk of possibility that the folks who were both the inspiration and topical message of the song, may get wind of this entry. I say risk, although the chance is not certain or large, it does exist. Due to the precarious and tender point of life they are in, it could be taken personally anywhere from flattery to offense, or perhaps deepen any negative feelings they are currently experiencing.

However, I’ve looked at it from my own perspective if I were in their shoes, as much as one can without actually being there, and how I’d feel about someone writing using me as a foundation and felt I’d be absolutely fine with it. It is how I feel, and so what I wrote, I mean it as a life lesson for the rest of us. I in no way wish to single out anyone or make them uncomfortable, so I’ve written as generic as possible.

The place where my work takes me is pretty routine in task, offering me the opportunity to get to know many people on the premises. My work is one that allows me to move from building to building, meeting various new people, and getting to know even better those whom I’ve chatted with extensively over the years. Some I’ve associated with outside the work environment. The point is, some folks are occasional re-acquaintances and others you get to know fairly well.

Within the past couple months I’ve seen one particular acquaintance again re-enter her battle against cancer. Though I don’t know her very well personally, I’ve talked with her a few times, have talked with her dad often and she is well known due to her situation. She has given it a fair shove with a hopeful audience watching from their grateful distance, but is now approaching her final battle grounds. A doctor’s six month prognosis before she’ll lose the war has turned into only weeks.

Writer’s Note: I originally wrote this in the beginning of the week. Sadly I have since learned only two nights ago, that the individual above has moved on to life after Earth. Though this is very sad, her suffering is no more. End of note.

Another person who I’ve also only met a few times, talking cordially but seeing around the premises often, went for a check up and found stage 4 lung cancer. She also with a doctor’s estimation of only six months before her war comes to an end.

Another person who some months back found out about skin cancer, was being treated and later found it traveled internally, as well just recently was also handed a six month war plan, which at this writing is narrowing in on the last couple months.

This latter gentleman is one whom I’ve talked to at length about football, fishing, kids, politics, office politics, cost of living, unions, home projects and a host of things. While I’ve never associated with him off site, I will say I can tell you how he stands on any of the above topics and more, and know him fairly well from the years of conversations.

Recently I saw him on the premises and he just sounded tired from the chemo treatments and was aged by 25 — 30 years. He is only in his early 50’s, was an avid hunter, fisherman, always working on projects around the house”¦ highly active and a real outdoorsman. Probably the last type of guy you’d expect to fall prey to this disease, never having smoked but among other areas, now battles lung cancer.

As I stood there talking with him a few weeks back, I couldn’t help but think while standing there, in a matter of a couple months, he’ll likely not be with us and it hit me like a cement block. All three of these people began to weigh on my head and in my heart, in how short life can be.

It occurred to me as well how we measure our good fortune in life based off the misfortune of others. In life we find people who selfishly cut other’s down for their own benefit, you know, “Cut folks down smaller so I look taller” kind of thing. It occurred to me how we do this in desperate situations in life. We don’t mean to do it, it is sort of a default safety mechanism. We see someone with worse problems and say “I thought I had problems!” And while that is presumably true, we’ve indeed just measured our good fortune in life by the yard stick of another’s misfortune.

I’ve often wondered who is the lowest man on the chain who can’t find someone worse than he is”¦ Lord help him or her. With my being a blind individual, I tend to be thrust with such attitudes of “I thought I had problems”¦ bless your heart.” And all the while I think “dude. You’re in an unhappy marriage, you have obvious pride and insecurity issues, you’re kids are struggling and you don’t seem to care, you have little evidence of a life purpose, and no spice in daily life, your life according to my simple standards is a real mess. As much as being blind can suck, I’d rather be me than you.” Perhaps that seems judgmental or unfair, but let’s face it, as we go through life we make distinctions and discernments about others in efforts to reference ourselves in the world, I just happen to verbalize it here.

That realization of my not wanting to be in some other’s shoes, made me realize that someone presumably lower on the pity chain can really see themselves a few links higher up than others. Perhaps even the lowest person according to some, see themselves higher than their observers. I found that “worse off “ is relative to one’s beliefs”, and beliefs tend to change when you find yourself in the midst of life issues that are permanent.

So that is what this song is about. In my own situation which some might look at as unfathomable, I see other’s and guiltily measure my own good fortunes by their “misfortune”, finding personal solace in “There’s always someone worse, bless their heart.”

Its also about the next deeper stage when that someone experiencing misfortune hits a little closer to home with someone I care about, and I then realize How ashamed I am for similarly labeling my good fortune as “There are others with worse things than me.” I feel guilty for using them as an emotional step stool to keep my own head up. It feels almost like stomping their fingers as they cling to life over the edge. That is the farthest thing from what I’d do in reality, I’d risk my own to help them, but I feel useless and in their helpless state feel guilty. Sort of a survivor’s guilt.

And then answering my own question of where is the one who is at the bottom of the “bless their heart” chain? Well? He or she doesn’t exist, because as we are pushed closer and closer toward our battle, it seems defense mechanisms kick in and folks resolve to finding either peace or resolve in where they are at. Not necessarily their choice, but mostly folks will come to a “come to Jesus” experience either figuratively or literally about their situation, and look at others much differently with their renewed or re-thunk values.

So that is the story behind this song Harder Ways. Lyrics below. You can stream the current Story Behind The Song at:

http://www.braddunsemusic.com/files/sbts.m3u

Thanks for reading. Hopefully you will look at others differently. If even just a little as a result is a huge blessing to me. For comments you can E Mail me here or Facebook Me.
always welcome listener's thoughts, good, bad, or indifferent.

Harder Ways
©2010 Brad Dunse

Looking in the TV screen a flash of evening news
Showed us how the homeless scavenge evening food
And there in my reflection an expression on my face
Exposed a crude conviction of my latest life complaint
There are harder ways

Talkin’ with my best friend over coffee and a roll
I looked away helpless as his chemo took control
Guilty eyes kept starin’ from the surface of my cup
So damned ashamed how I’ve labeled my good luck
There are harder ways

Lord help the one who can’t find someone worse than he
Some how he will find it ”˜cause to him its you or me

Lookin’ from the stage tonight for all I know that someone’s you
We’d all look different if you knew the hidden truth
You might look at your neighbor with a furrow on your brow
Wonderin’ how he’ll manage, I can assure you right now
There are harder ways
There are harder ways]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_harder_ways Mon, 07 Jun 2010 09:40:34 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - The Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/out_to_sea ©2010 Brad Dunse

One of my goals this year is to write a Stan Rogeresque ship song. Granted I’ll doubtfully even come close to matching the master’s hand, but nonetheless my goal is to give it a whirl. One of my favorite ship songs, though not a Rogers song, is one a song jammin’ friend nearly always garners my request entitled “Pull “her To The Shore”, an excellent piece of writing! With this goal in mind I’ve been enjoying a book telling accounts of shipwrecks and survivals on the Great Lakes.

Growing up near Lake Michigan for the most part, having spent a fair bit of time on it, one does gain a respect for it even though the seas I’ve been on haven’t come close to the wilds it can muster. Of course, there isn’t too many occasions to hang a fishing pole broadside amid a November gale. I have been out on calm summer days when it is smooth enough to reflect the sky as if a huge mirror, and also out plowing into the sides of large chops and swells gaining a much unneeded shower of cold blue Michigan water over the bow.

While reading this wonderful account of ship’s Captains daring to take one last trip for the season, assume their vessel plenty capable of handling the approaching storm, or giving under to the pressures of sea-hand’s ridicule of fear to cut lines and head for open sea—I began to notice something about the character of the people back then.

One instance where a ship swelling with Captain’s pride as well its cargo decided to bring members of his family aboard for a pleasure cruise as well, found his pride sunk and survivors rowing in a lifeboat amid the storm. One of the survivors being a 10 year old boy begging to pull his own time on the oars to give the men a rest. That is character.

Account after account of Captain’s indeed not bailing from a sinking or burning ship until his last deck hand or passenger was off showed incredible selflessness and character. As well the unfortunate washing ashore of two people, a Captain and a woman passenger where she was wrapped in not only his peacoat, but his life preserver and his arms in attempts to keep her warm and alive. Chivalry at one of its greatest sacrificial depths.

What stood out to me in reading these accounts was the tremendous adventure in life. Though at times, yes pride, stubbornness or incompetence came into play, but the thrill of jumping on the back of life and riding off into the horizon seemed to be so prevalent.

This adventuresome outlook on life, matched against so many recent instances of people I know who have encountered , some sadly yet as I type this note are in the midst of the grip of their encounter, of a slow demise due to cancer and the like, ignites an increasing fire deep within to live life full. To be honest, it would be wonderful to just cut the lines off the pier, sailing off to see things, meet new people, experience new adventures and sights”¦ to live as free as Jack Dawson in the movie Titanic, holding up under a bridge one day to dining with elite another and all the while perfectly happy scratching out perceptions of life on an artist’ tablet. However that does require a “don’t look back” mentality living on the edge. What then? Does the fear of “not looking back” or worse not being able to return to a safe harbor prevent us, or specifically to my own heart, me, from cutting loose?

This “safe harbor” vs “adventuresome live life while you have it” seems to bring to a head to head clash not unlike the echo of Bighorn Sheep in the Rockies as they vi for mating rights. In some ways I’ve done both. The unsettled never knowing yet freedom of self-employment has always been in my blood compared to a steady 9 to 5 safety net. And though hunkering down with a nice home and providing a nice environment for my kids has been reality, we’ve also picked up and moved nearly the entire length of the country to our nations southland, “just because we wanted to try it and see”. We moved back due to some of those “safe harbor” reasons as well as family, but live with the continued wonder of when or where we might decide to chance new experiences.

Not being independently wealthy doesn’t allow for endless flamboyant adventures, and if that were the case, how much less of adventure would that be? If one played an opponent in chess and knew you would win, what would be the point in playing? Where is the adventure? The adventure isn’t often solely in the event it's self, but the sense of accomplishing it under less than guaranteed conditions to return to try another, spending limited resources you have on it.

Looking at the folks in this book, and the stories told, I realized that though these folks did indeed live with adventure, shirking danger, enjoying the thrill of the ride, all the close calls and ability to live to tell the tale”¦ they weren’t out at sea continually. They came to port sometimes staying for months on end before going back out. They returned to the safety of the harbor to refuel, load up with more cargo and preserves, and then cut the lines and sailed to open water.

Looking at the life of those around who never leave shore? Well I guess harbor’s need pier hands as well do they not? That is their call and prerogative. The answer to the question that really matters is “Are you loving life on a daily basis?” Does the harbor have you ankle chained to the dock or do you genuinely desire to be there? If you found out today your tomorrow was limited to a known time frame, if you had X amount of time to live? Would you grab the nearest axe, swinging wildly at the links shackling your angle to the dock, dive headlong in the water, swim to and climb aboard the nearest vessel headed to open water? Or would you grab the nearest broom, content to live out your time sweeping dead Bay Flies off the dock? How might you live it? Same or different? Adventuresome yet not forgoing wisdom or consideration of others? Or the same tomorrow as you had today?

While the harbor offers safety, how does one know what safety is unless from time to time you stand on the harbor dock, stare out into the open water, breath in a huge breath of sea air, reach for the axe and cut the lines, then head out to sea?]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/out_to_sea Sun, 16 May 2010 10:13:12 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - The Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/special_story_behind_the_song_heart_of_a_friend
When I first started writing it I was thinking about the friends I have in life. The acquaintance, the friend that is a level above acquaintance, the garden variety friend and then of course the up close and personal friend, which to my good fortune have been blessed with a few in life.

I remembered a while back I received one of those cutsie “if you agree send this on to ten of your friends” kind of emails that spoke of the different types of friends. So I looked it up in my hook book of writing ideas where I save such things and began to read. It spoke of how a friend wouldn’t know your parents first names but a real friend would have their phone number in their address book. A friend would have seen you cry but a real friend’s shoulder would be soggy with your tears. A friend brings a bottle of wine to the party while a real friend comes early and stays late to help prepare and tear down.

When I began to look at friends in my life that were “real” friends, the luster of this email began to take on a dull grainy finish very quickly. Oh sure it’s cute and make’s logical sense, but as I read I found problems of life application of it.

For instance a number of years ago I lost my brother to a drowning accident and some real friends of mine stood there with one hand on the hip and the other extended in a cup fashion towards me. They wanted the keys to my house and business and told me to go be with family, don’t worry about it and they’d handle things. When I returned a week or so later they in fact handled things and there was a lasagna in the oven when we turned the key in the door. They didn’t know my parents names and I didn’t really know there’s and we certainly didn’t have each other’s parents numbers in our address book, but they indeed were real friends.

I’ve never cried in front of two very dear friends of mine today much less have my tears on either of their shoulders and yet I know I could entrust them with just about anything I had to say, share or confess”¦ they’re always concerned for my well being with one ending most phone conversations with “Anything else?” as if saying “Anything else I can do for you?” and the other with “Love ya heaps bro”. And indeed they both are real friends.

As far as coming early or staying late to parties or events”¦ well that’s just what my wife and I often do at most parties”¦ friends or no”¦ how else do you make them? I mean not everyone does this particular show of friendship, they may do other types of things, but its just being friendly; respectful; and helpful, and something we find ourselves doing often.

So that was the premise in which I started to write this song. The message in the lyric is simple just basically saying if you think you can trust me, you can, and the only way you’ll know that is when I’m there for you when you need me. As your friend, I can’t be bought or caught in some way; I have to give you my friendship. As a friend when you fall? I’ll dust you off and clean you up best I can. As your friend what I’ll ask is how much help do you need? Where do you need it? When do you need it? And I won’t be asking you or myself “How much can he want from a friend anyway?” And in return I’ll trust you to be there in my need. Very simple, not complicated or flowery or full of images.

I was in my little writing studio and as I do with many of the songs I write, I’ll run them over and over and over and over”¦ working through word meter, rhythms, general flow, test whether or not I get sick of hearing the song myself, and also to feel the song as I work out new idea directions. This past weekend I was doing exactly that, playing this song over and over quite a lot actually when I realized my little brown Spaniel bud was snoozing in the doorway for the long session as she normally does. I got to thinking as I played and sung it “She must be sick and tired of the old man playing that silly tune again and again”. I smiled to myself and went on with my minstrel torrent. Little did I know that within two days the doorway ,and even my house, would be void of my little buddy and the song I was working on would not only be the last of the many she’s heard me sing, but would carry a significance of what she means to me.

Sparing the various health details, Monday we had made the grueling decision and subsequent trip to the vet clinic to give her a final rest from her ailments. Though I knew soon this horrible day would come. I really hadn’t woke in the morning with intentions of sparing my pup of her pain, and my life of her’s. However yet another episode of uncontrollable body functions, shaming her self-esteem on top of her other health issues made us realize, for her sake and not our own, we must face our drudgery and it was indeed time.

As I continue to morn the loss of my very faithful buddy Buster, I began to realize the significance of the song with respect to her unconditional love and friendship she had towards me and my family. And yes I did say “her” and not “him”.

She indeed would cover me in affection at times of loss and turbulent times of life the thirteen and a half years she’s been with us. She proved her loyalty; she couldn’t be bought or caught”¦ discounting of course the ever sure yet temporary distraction of food luring her immediate attention to the one holding it. But indeed she’d dust you off with a tongue lashing of the loving kind if you were down, and always be there as if to say “How much, where and when can I help?” Never would she allude to the notion of “How much do you want from me dude?”

Countering the awful trip we had to make, she was afforded many camping trips, canoeing trips, walks in which she stretched the leash in pursuit of birds, geese and “bushy tailed kitty cats” known as squirrels, and hours upon hours of car rides on my lap when it was too crowded to have a place of her own. The night I spent laying with her head to head as she whined from surgery on fatty tumors that were marbled in her chest muscle, the comfort after a brief encounter with a car bumper as a pup running like an idiot around the neighborhood, and the countless hours of her snoring and listening to me make my music in this studio all are but a glimpse of the shared times I’ll not forget with her.

Indeed this song today takes on a new meaning for me which I’ll never be able to sing it without the thoughts and vision of her lying-in the doorway snoozing in bliss just hanging out with the old man as he wrote it. Though this isn’t a song I penned with her directly in mind, I dedicate it to my buddy of a thousand nicknames. Well not a thousand but she has a couple handfuls for sure of which she knew the various levels of seriousness in seeking her attention.

Thanks PalPal you know the many facets of love which you meant to us all, and we to you. I’ll see you again when I next play this song.

You can stream a dirt roads version of the current month's Story Behind The Song at: http://www.braddunsemusic.com/files/sbts.m3u

Heart of a friend
©2010 Brad Dunse

You’ve got a friend you think is true
Guaranteed to be there when you’re down
Well you will see, midst of the heat
I’ll cover you and remove all doubt”¦ ”˜cause a”¦

Heart of a friend is given, can’t be caught
A heart of a friend, dusts you when you fall off
A heart of a friend, asks you with all they got
How much where and when
Never how much can be bled
From the heart of a friend

I hope and pray I’ll have no need
When I’m emptied you will fill the void
I cannot lose, I trust in you
The way I’m made I simply have no choice”¦ ”˜cause a”¦

Heart of a friend is given, can’t be caught
A heart of a friend, dusts you when you fall off
A heart of a friend, asks you with all they got
How much where and when
Never how much can be bled
From the heart of a friend

If you can’t count on me to stand with you above the noise
Then callin’ me friend”¦ tell me now what’s the point”¦

Heart of a friend is given, can’t be caught
A heart of a friend, dusts you when you fall off
A heart of a friend, asks you with all they got
How much where and when
Never how much can be bled
From the heart of a friend
Heart of a friend
Heart of a friend]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/special_story_behind_the_song_heart_of_a_friend Tue, 27 Apr 2010 09:53:15 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - The Blog