http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html Brad Dunse: Blog Jannis' PHPRss class - http://www.jannis.to/ Tue, 08 Nov 2011 18:13:52 -0800 http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/vietnam_memorial_the_wall
Canvas bags draping slumped shoulders, buckles digging into tired muscles, nervous fingers losing their sweaty grip every tenth step, I huffed my gear through the crowds of soldiers. Spotting a slightly wooded area to escape the baking sun, the bags almost magnetically pulled themselves towards cover; reaching it they slid off the shoulders with a sigh through puffed cheeks.

Rubbing the burn from sore neck muscles, stretching out the back, and taking in the action all around; I wondered what the day might look like in hindsight, and which one of the souls out there might be a new found friend by day’s end.

A bit nervous of what to expect amid the battle experienced soldiers out there, wonderment gave way to doubt as to whether the ability to even identify with what they have seen allows for friendship.

Finally, two gents approached asking if I was who I was. Confirming it with handshakes, we began chatting as bags were opened and gear pulled out. Opening the case and sitting on a stool, I began to fiddle around on my guitar.

No, we weren’t killing time prior to reporting for duty in a US military base in Vietnam, we arrived at the State Capitol grounds in St. Paul, Minnesota; at a kickoff event the governor of Minnesota declared as Vietnam Day.

So why was I there? It wasn’t for doing a tour of duty in Vietnam; I was born about a decade and a half too late for that. Besides age being a factor, though I probably didn’t know it at 18-years old, there was a hereditary disease slowly scattering throughout my retinas affecting peripheral and night vision; and very likely it would have pulled a 4F medical discharge anyway. If that wouldn’t have prevented being shipped out, eventually from mere survival of the fittest, some North Vietnamese soldier would have shipped me back in a box, carving my name in the Memorial Wall with the business end of his weapon.

I was at the Vietnam Day event by invitation from a grass roots effort, to come and play some music. Sort of a 1960’s protest style thing, only we weren’t protesting, we were joining the proclamation and recognition of the brave men and women who served in Vietnam.

A compilation CD of Vietnam songs had recently been released, designed to help heal emotional wounds and not let the world forget what suffering went on back then; and a song I co-wrote with two other writers (Mitch Townley and Judy Gorman King), was picked as the featured song for the CD. The song is entitled, “The Wall.”

Once the gear was set up out on the large grounds of the Capitol, we started playing. We played for children, fellow musicians, curious event attendees, friends and families of soldiers who stopped to listen, and then they came.

Mike, one of the gentlemen who gave the invite, rounded the corner with a group of Viet Vets. As they approached, battle earned metals clinked on silver haired gents as they jokingly milled about asking if I knew any Hank Williams; and then Mike said, “Brad, why don’t you play your song for these gentlemen?”

I will tell you, having played for many people at all kinds of gigs throughout the years, nerves had never been tested in this way before. Staring out with what vision was musterable, looking at this group of amazing souls standing before me who—all but a handful of decades ago were scared, brave young men watching their buddies tore apart right next to them in fox holes, on the battle field, and in transport jeeps—facing unknown emotional battles of uncertainty whether the local people there approaching them, men, women or children all equal in ability; were allies of safety, or enemies about to cut them down. Miraculously, here they were standing anxiously, staring at me expectantly, wanting to hear the song that was written just for them; and me desperately hoping we had gotten what they felt inside, right.

Swallowing hard and slow, raking a few strums on the guitar to get emotionally anchored, I started to sing:

When you were searching for my name today
I saw you standing there
Man you look different
With that silver in your hair
Me, I haven’t changed a bit
Still all of twenty-one
That’s the thing about us spirits
We’re forever young
At the wall ”¦, here at the wall

Mid-way through the song with quivering lips and doubts I could even make it all the way through without choking up, I began to feel a reverence for these men stronger than ever before; men who endured not only a very different war out on the battlefield and in the jungle, but also the unexpected one of patriotic betrayal soon after the planes wheels screeched the tarmac back home.

I don’t think one strand of hair laid flat the entire length of the song but I did make it through to the end. When I finished, a nervous silence loomed for a second or two; wondering to myself, “Brad? What did you just do? You had better not offended them assuming you know what they feel inside.” The silence stood for a few seconds more and I was immediately swallowed up with soldiers shaking my hand 60’s style, giving pats on the back, and profusely giving thanks for writing the song. We snapped a quick picture with them, all the while me thanking them for their service, and that it was only a shame that the song had need to be written in the first place. That was one of the, if not the, most special experiences I’d ever had playing.

Prior to “The Wall” being written, I’d thought pretty heavy on writing a song about Vietnam. Considering it further, it seemed an obvious decision to write one dealing with the wall, maybe the Traveling Wall? Going back up on the National Memorial website, I spent hours up there reading profile entries that folks left for their loved ones. There were old goodbyes and present tense conversations: words from old high school buddies, family members keeping up a vigil, neighborhood friends who popped in after thinking about them, school teachers who wrote shortly after the news, and of course those uniquely bonded souls who served with them in the war ”¦; excuse me ”¦, “police action.”

Reading the entries was addictive, and more gripping than a Friday night suspense flick. Hopping up on the site before dinner, I didn’t pull away from the computer until the morning sun popped up. After spending the night reading droves of profiles of 21-year olds who never came back, the desire to write a song about Vietnam and the wall was there now more than ever.

As strong a desire it was to write a Vietnam wall song, I hadn’t told anyone of the plan. The goal was to have a solo write, so the idea never left the writing room. After a week and a half of knocking around some ideas and not really settling on any particular idea, an email came through from a songwriting buddy of mine. He said he ran into a poet at a veteran’s event in Nashville, got permission to use the poem as foundation for a lyric, and wanted to know if I wanted in on the song.

Stunned at the timing of this opportunity, I naturally agreed. A few days later we came out with our song entitled, “The Wall”.

I often wonder, after nearly two weeks of milling it around, surfing the web, staying up all night mesmerized by what I was reading, trying to pour my soul into the boots of those kids and their surviving families, not saying anything to anyone about my desire to write such a song about the Vietnam Wall, and then out of the blue to be approached with this opportunity? —I don’t know—is that just a simple coincidence? Or could there have been more to it than that?

The Wall has been played at a variety of places ranging from major commercial country radio, to web stations, to live performances at local memorial ceremonies, to my own gigs; and I am very humbled it will be performed by Silver Hammer, an east-coast youth band raising brows up and down the eastern port, as they play it as part of their invitation to perform at the National Memorial event in Washington DC this Veterans Day on November 11.

Hear the song in it’s entirety and read the lyrics at: http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/vietnam_memorial_the_wall Tue, 08 Nov 2011 18:13:52 -0800 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_hunger_for_the_weak
As with so many tunes I write, I’ll just set down with my guitar, find a groove, and just let the tones and emotion lead me into the topic. With Hunger For The Weak that too was the case. As I mapped out the chord progression and melody, out of nowhere at the point of where the title was obviously going to be placed, out popped the phrase “There is a hunger for the weak”. Where did it come from? Beats me.

Immediately after hearing myself sing it, I began to think of what that phrase might mean and it didn’t take but a second or two before I thought of how sharks prey on the weakened creatures in the sea. This probably came in mind because I had just finished watching a movie entitled Open Water which told the story of a couple who were left out to sea overnight by their chartered scuba boat. As the movie drew to its end the suspense was in that the lady had been slightly injured by small fish nibbling at her legs creating a scent of blood in the water which could draw sharks to them.

Although the sharks out in the ocean are viewed as ruthless and mean as they scan for prey, their motive to prey on weakened creatures is an inherent survival mechanism and not one of calculated self gain or greed. I began to think of the various types of praying we see in our world. For me it’s not about targeting on anyone in particular but rather using each one to address the collective common thread among various sectors of life, and how the preying is based out of illness, power, greed and selfishness or perhaps even a sense of feeling helpless to make a difference in the lives of others and then just let others twist in the wind as a result.

Too often we read in the newspaper about abductions and violent acts that we just can’t understand “why or how someone could be so ruthless”, and to our fortune we can’t really understand, or else we’d somehow identify with an ill mind. That does leave us both scared and angry when we hear about them. About the only consolation I can find is those shark attacks are based out of a predator’s illness and need for help themselves rather than that of strictly a “selfish motive”. It doesn’t take away the damage or feelings that follow, but its as close as one can come to understanding.

I realize that there are good people in Washington that do their best in what they feel is best for our country. Of course we’ve seen how there are those that are in it for self gain, power and I’d say I’ve even witnessed what very much seems to be intentions of a secure free ride in life doing just enough to keep in office. The struggle between parties often becomes a flag waving partisan war leaving the people they are meant to represent bobbing in the frenzied waters, ducking and treading under the crossfire, trying to tend to the wounded and casualties. The longer these remain in office. The more incentive to drift away from protections of those faces they are meant to represent. Like sharks they swim in a huge sea of bureaucracy with all senses in full alert amid the feeding frenzy”¦ darting and jousting among their own kind trying to power position themselves to get their share of the meat, oblivious to the fish around them that will soon be the victims of their future frenzy. Eliminating the need to be re-elected might go a long way to keep perspectives properly focused on the heart and needs of their constituents.

We also have huge business interested in gaining more power and money with what seems to be no concern for the affects it is on the heart of this country by encouraging business to move abroad for use of foreign labor forsaking our own, and also the tragedy of abusing struggling workers over seas busting their humps for little pay while products are returned here and resold to our unemployed for many times over the actual cost. While makers of those clothes earn very little the garments they make are sold for profit points enough to continually grow more stores across the country.

It seems that the scent of blood has increased the desire to take advantage of the wounded and hurt rather than scurry to find medical assistance. If you’ve ever watched the shark week on Discovery channel, you might have noticed when a Great White Shark opens his jaws, just before he goes in for the attack he’ll roll his eyes back for protection”¦ other types of shark species will cover them with a membrane for protection. Similar seems to be the case with societal sharks. The difference is however while actual sharks do this as a protective measure in survival, societal sharks roll them back so they don’t have to see the affects of their actions on the victims. By rolling them back they give themselves excuse from recognizing their own taste and hunger for the weak for their own gain. If they don’t see it, it doesn’t exist.

Finally to be fair, we need to look at ourselves as we pass those on the street, or those in need. Do we do similar as those we’ve just listened to in the verses? Perhaps we don’t recognize our own cold ability to ignore those that are hurting, struggling and too weak to cry for help? When we see a clear image of ourselves, do we see a dorsal fin on our back? I can think of a number of good people I know who help folks in need, often times when they have needs of their own. Isn’t this a better societal goal? And the emotional rewards go far beyond the reaches of money or power.

You can listen to a “dirt roads” version of this song for the month of December at http://www.braddunsemusic.com/files/sbts.m3u.

Hunger For The Weak
©2010 Brad Dunse

The news stand boldly shows the headline
Another abduction made the news
Left the locals scared and angry
What kind of man feeds on abuse?

And just like a shark there in the ocean
At the smell of blood they’ll bare their teeth
Victims struggle for survival
And the shark will roll their eyes so they don’t see
There is a hunger for the weak

Congress says they have our interest
They’ve got our backs me and you
But in their private darkened chambers
Partisan war remains ensued

Repeat chorus

In third world countries there are children
Sewing clothes to dusk from dawn
Shipped here to our greedy all-marts
Sold a hundred times their cost

Repeat chorus

Window shopping here last Christmas
My own reflection wasn’t dim
Behind my image were the homeless
And my back a dorsal fin

Repeat chorus]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_hunger_for_the_weak Tue, 07 Dec 2010 09:01:11 -0800 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/quick_tip_split_personality
I remember as a kid watching a movie where Sally Fields played a troubled young girl named Cybil, which was the name of the movie”¦ even movies have one word titles . Anyway it showed a tragic condition imposed on a young girl where she developed what was sometimes called Split Personality or Multiple Personality, now referred to as Dissociative Identity Disorder.

As serious and unfortunate that is in real life, songs can also mistakenly suffer from that same dilemma. IN fact songs are written from and towards certain perspectives or “personalities”. There are three of them “I”, “You”, “They””¦ First person, second person and third person respectively.

Out of the split personalities perspectives in general there are two different kinds, intentional and unintentional, or otherwise a flat out mistake. What do I mean, how could this happen? I’m glad you asked.

Let’s take the unintentional kind first of all. If I were to write a verse and chorus as:

Verse 1:
I can’t believe she told me
It’s over and soon she was gone
I thought our love was solid
Her leaving seems so wrong”¦

Chorus:
Honey what’s the matter
Honey what did I do
We built our life on the fact
There’s nothing we can’t pull through
If we love each other
Without the fame or money
Please tell me why you’re leaving me”¦ Honey

OK. So it’s a lame example”¦ get a knife and cut me some slack . Notice in the verse the character in the song is facing us, speaking directly to us telling his woeful story. Suddenly however he got a bit rude, I mean the gall of the dude. What do I mean? Well didn’t you see him? He up and turned his back on us. Just like that, in the middle of telling us his woes, he snubbed us right after the verse.
He started talking to his “honey” in the chorus. In the middle of the song it changed from first person “I” to second person “you” in the chorus. Now to save a song as this, if this particular one would actually be worth saving, the title is obviously “Honey” so it might be best to change the verse to first person such as”¦

I can’t believe you told me
It’s over and soon you were gone
I thought our love was solid
Your leaving seems so wrong”¦

Chorus:
Honey what’s the matter
Honey what did I do
We built our life on the fact
There’s nothing we can’t pull through
If we love each other
Without the fame or money
Please tell me why you’re leaving me”¦ Honey

Now when we here the chorus, we’re still innocent bystanders listening in on their conversation and not shocked that he’s talking to her and not us. It now rolls into the chorus seamless.

As I said the other kind of split personality is a purposed one or intentional one. These intentional perspective changes are a little harder to write and pull off successfully. A good example of one however is one Alabama recorded in the 80’s called 40 Hour Week.

The verses start out like”¦

“There are people in this country who work hard every day,
Not for fame or fortune do they strive”¦”

So we’ve established it is a third person “they”. And if you punch it up on the net and listen you’ll see the verses are all from that perspective.

But”¦ the choruses intentionally split off to first person with”¦

“Hello Detroit auto worker let me thank you for your time”¦.”

I know you’re probably thinking ”¦ “But I thought you said you can’t”¦”

Wait a minute now”¦ don’t get your tongue all hung up in your teeth on me! The last line in the verse says ””¦and its time a few of them are recognized..” Setting up a dialog change. All the choruses are consistent with first person and so the set up works. It works as well because the people Randy Owen is singing to in the verses are very likely all the folks or one of them, that he sings about in the chorus. Even if not, we all feel a sense of being appreciated because we can identify with the universal point of the song.

So as you write be mindful of the perspective you are writing from. Often times one can write a song from a first person and decide later third would work better, that’s fine, just make sure you catch all the nuances that made it first person. If you’ve found you’ve unintentionally wrote half a song one way and the other half another way, it is generally an easy fix with a simple re-write similar to the example above.

So from me, myself and I, we say”¦ get writin’!]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/quick_tip_split_personality Fri, 12 Nov 2010 19:49:41 -0800 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_the_wall
This is one of only two songs which I was involved in a three-way co-write. A fellow songwriter, a Nashville poetess and myself all contributed in various ways to The Wall. At the time of this writing I had never met either of my co-writers. I’ve since met Knoxville songwriter Mitch Townley and we’ve written several songs together to date both before and after we’d met in person or written this particular song. I still need to personally meet Judy Gorman King, without her poem entitled “The Spirit Of The Wall” this particular song would not have been written.

My buddy Mitch happened to be in Nashville attending a Vietnam Veteran event when he heard Judy reciting her poem. He then asked her about possibly putting it to song form. She said that would be great and to go for it. Mitch pared down the poem into song form and then contacted me to see if I wanted in on coming up with the music and melody arrangement.

At the time of this project coming my way, I had wanted to; almost burdened to, write a song about the Traveling Wall, a portable version of the larger monument. I spent a good bit of time researching the real wall on-line. I remember one particular night I had logged on to a memorial web site that contained a database of fallen soldiers. There it told a bit about them and also had an area where family, friends and fellow soldiers could post thoughts, dedications and notes to the fallen soldier as a memoriam. I found myself searching for last names of folks where I grew up, and the areas where I’ve lived. I became nearly addicted to the heart-felt stories and dedications people had written there. I almost felt like I was ease dropping on conversations, and yet there was an honorable sense of contributing to the recognition of the worth of the people I’d been reading about”¦ contributing to the fact they are not forgotten. I wondered how they’d be today had they returned home to family. Some would be farmers, some lawyers, some mailmen, construction workers, teachers,, songwriters even ”¦ dads, moms, husbands, and wives.

It was nearly first light when I finally stopped reading, having been up all night envisioning and imagining the way of life of these folks pre-war. Within a couple weeks from that all nighter, Mitch contacted me about working on the song, the timing was perfect.

I looked at the lyrics Mitch emailed and felt an incredible burden of responsibility to come up with something that worked. I sat down with the guitar and a couple hours time, a few lyrical tweaks later to fit to the music, and occasional tear from choking up as I put myself in the place of both soldiers, The Wall was coming to be. A few additional collaboration tweaks with Mitch, an OK or two from Judy, and before we knew it, it was ready for recording.

As you will hear it is written from the perspective of a fallen soldier watching his buddy visiting the fallen soldier’s name engraved in the Vietnam Memorial Wall in DC. I had the fortune to have visited the wall long before I ever got into songwriting and it is indeed both awesome and sobering at the same time.

A couple facts about The Wall:

Ӣ The poem Spirit Of The Wall is a poem that served as foundation for the song. The poem has been recited all over the country and is embroidered on a quilt that is displayed in the Smithsonian Institute as well listed with other literary works at: http://www.thewall-usa.com/literary/SpiritofTheWall.htm

Ӣ It will receive major station air play this Thursday/Friday in Knoxville, TN at: http://q93country.com/

Ӣ The Wall is the featured track on a compilation CD entitled Songs of Healing and Remembrance for Vietnam Veterans. I do have some limited copies of that CD if you are interested in ordering one, just email me.

Ӣ There is a MySpace web site dedicated to the song with a video of still picks put together by Mitch accompanying the song. That version was sung by fellow songwriter JP Williams. You can see it at http://www.myspace.com/wallsong

Ӣ The Wall is linked to several Vietnam Memorial web sites as well air play on military and civilian web stations.

”¢ I had the honor of playing it for a group of vets at a Vietnam Veteran event newly dubbed by the governor of Minnesota as Vietnam Veteran’s Day, held on the capitol ground in St. Paul which was very humbling.

Ӣ The Wall has been part of a high school event in honor of Vietnam Vets


For the month of November 2010 you can listen to a studio version of The Wall at: http://www.braddunsemusic.com/files/sbts.m3u


The Wall

When you were searching for my name today I saw you standing there
Man you look different with that silver in your hair
Me I haven't aged a bit—still all of 21
That's the thing about us spirits we're forever young
At the wall
Here at the wall

We were proud to serve our country when called by Uncle Sam
Then more than a little anxious when they shipped us off to Nam
Remember all the heat and bugs—days marchin' the mud
Constant gunfire, smell of death, sight of all that blood
Some gave all
The names carved in this wall

But it’s a wall of love
A wall that heals
A wall that touches
And helps you feel
The faces of more than 50,000 names
Feel the wall, be forever changed

When we finally got the orders sayin' we could go back home
They were lookin' for my body so you made the trip alone
You came back to a country that couldn't comprehend
How so many boys that left returned as messed up men
Who served with all
The names here on the wall

But it’s a wall of love
A wall that heals
A wall that touches
And helps you feel
The faces of more than 50,000 names
Feel the wall, be forever changed

So as you stand there weepin' with your fingers on my name
Share with those cute grandkids the reason for this place
To restore some stolen gratitude and dignity
This granite wall of honor that holds my memory

It’s a wall of love
A wall that heals
A wall that touches
And helps you feel
The faces of more than 50,000 names
Feel the wall, be forever changed
Feel the wall, be forever changed


©2008 Brad Dunse/Mitch Townley/Judy Gorman King]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_the_wall Thu, 04 Nov 2010 14:21:06 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/qt_bewitched_and_bewildered
Back in the 60s and 70s there was a TV show called Bewitched. Each episode showed this modern witch, minus the broom and warted nose mind you, how her powers helped in a crisis and also got herself and husband in a bit of trouble. “Brad? Has the marshmallow slipped out of your s’more? What does that have to do with songwriting?” you might be asking me”¦ I can’t hear you by the way.

Well Samantha, the main character, had several powers one of “which” (no pun intended) was to wriggle her button nose and poof she’d be in a different place instantly. Still confused? Hang in there. In our songs many times we tell a story or have a chronological order of events. As we write, and often the case, re-write our songs, we make various changes as we go along. One very common suggestion I’ve heard writers suggest to others in an evaluation session is to either switch verse 2 with verse 1, or similar.

As we do our writing and make our changes we need to keep mindful of the series of events and not suddenly pull Samantha into our writing session. We need to make sure that we haven’t magically moved our character somewhere that hasn’t been known to our listeners.

“Yeah but, does that really happen Brad?” Well yes it does and by some pretty well known writers too. Take a very popular song “Leaving On A Jet Plane” written by John Denver. If you listen to the song he starts out “All my bags are packed I’m ready to go, I’m standing here out side your door, I hate to wake you up to say goodbye”¦” So he’s established where he is and where she is. She’s sleeping in the room and he’s standing outside the room on the other side of the door.

A little known fact on this particular song which I think you’ll find interesting”¦ suddenly Elizabeth Montgomery, the actor that played Samantha
busted her way in the song, twitched her nose and poof! John, much to our surprise without even turning the door knob or taking a single step, is all of the sudden along side his lover’s bed saying “So kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you’ll wait for me, hold me like you’ll never let me go”¦”

Don’t believe me? Hop on the net and click a listen. It’s either that, or John saw Samantha coming, threatened to tell the Tate’s her hubby’s boss about her witch status and she backed off leaving him standing with his face against a closed door speaking to the wood grain hoping his lover is hearing him while she lies sleeping.

I’m not picking on John, I wish I could get platinum success off a song with a major booboo like that. He got away with it because of who he was, but I can guarantee if you wrote that and presented it to an evaluator it’d be flagged in a New York Second, which is officially much faster than a Mississippi second.

So as you write continually step back from your work as if you are a listener and not writer, and see if there are any glitches in the events happening in your song. If you let Bewitched get in your song you will leave your listeners bewildered.]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/qt_bewitched_and_bewildered Sun, 10 Oct 2010 10:24:53 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_autumns_song
Exhaling the large breath, it’s as if you could just about blow smoke rings from its dense frozen mist as it’s poured out and soon disappears. Likewise the steam rising from the rim of my cup dissipates quickly once it is overcome by the cool dry morning air.

Stepping down off the step and out from the protection of the garage into the open driveway I feel a sudden bite of a cutting breeze. Lifting the collar of my jacket, I’ll then plunge my hand in its pocket, burn my lip on the hot coffee, rustle my shoulders a bit, and begin my walk.

The aroma of wood lingering between occasional slight breezes is almost as good as Pumpkin Pie coming out of the oven. Walking along the side of the street, the leaves scraping on the curbs and road sound lifeless and dry, cold in a way and yet very comforting and peaceful”¦ isn’t that just like “fall”?

A few leaves crunch under the tread of my gray New balance running shoes like potato chips between the teeth of a teenager with each step. The sky is still a gray backdrop for the spiny trees displaying their skeletons minus the dressing of leaves now covering the host yards. Walking along where only weeks back crickets and birds filled the air with the music of nature, and now having stopped and listened, the quietness is almost deafening. Like a glassy surfaced lake suddenly disrupted by a stone thrown in it and is subsequent rings on the surface, the caw of a Crow breaks the silence. It’s almost like its saying “Yeah, yeah, yeah, the sky is mine now, yeah, yeah”. With all the summer birds gone and few winter ones out this early, the grating caw sounds very lonely.

Turning to the right, out on the country road bordering the town, it is noticeable that even the traffic decided to sleep in today, increasing the volume of the open silence. The corn stalks standing in the fields look like they’ve been dusted with powdered sugar in places from the heavy frost crystals not yet chased off by the sun. The brownish tan broad leaves also dusted, scrape and mingle as the occasional breeze wakes them up for the day.

It seems only natural each fall on a walk such as this to begin to think of the past year, the long summer days, the things you’ve done, the things you wanted to but didn’t have the chance; the time; or the resources to do them. You think about the fact you are in one more autumn than last year and the hairline and color under your cap is beginning to reveal it. You might think of the friends you have, the ones you lost this past year or those struggling somehow even now, and even those you had as a kid and where they are, what are they doing and why didn’t you keep in contact with them and them you.

Yu also do think of the things you did accomplish this past year, and in your life and how now you sit back and enjoy their completion whether fiscally or in the simple fact of having learned, overcame or conquered them. You think of your family and sit back in the grand space of life and realize how grateful and fortunate you really are.

Fall tends to have a sense of peaceful and yet an unsettledness about it. Despite the introspectiveness it carries it is a beautiful time of year, especially as the sun begins to peak over the houses and trees, the earth tone colors begin to come to life from the gray hues now to warm browns, and sunlight zaps the frost, and you can see sharp lines contrasting shadow and sunlight on the road as you walk. As you walk towards that line on the road, you make the point of sunlight and you feel its warmth on your jacket and face and it reminds you of how in summer you’d be cursing the unseasonal day if it were this wretched cold, and yet now you are grateful for it.

As inevitable as winter is to come, the wind begins to change from westerly to out of the north and has some teeth to it now. The day begins to fib to those looking from the inside of a living room window, with its brightness growing a warm smile on the face of onlookers, yet the invisible cold air undermines the sun’s work from those outside tactily experiencing the day.

A large gust flips the sweatshirt hoody against the back of my head, and I clench a fist inside my pocket as if to cover for the one holding on the coffee cup, and with yet another gust my shoulders shiver and writhe in reflex to the nip it carries. With face a little reddened and coffee cup nearly empty and now cold, I flip its liquid remains to the curb, brace the cup between my pocketed arm and my side, give my right hand an oasis of flannel and lint in the other jacket pocket as I make my way for home to carry on with yet another day.

Fodder for Autumn’s Song which work tape can be heard at http://www.braddunsemusic.com/files/sbts.m3u

Autumn’s Song
© 2010 Brad Dunse

The old White Oak tree’s
About the only one with leaves
This time of year
Someone’s burnin’ wood
In the neighborhood
And it’s the blue Smokey haze that tugs my tears
Or is the north wind stingin' colder
Or the gray ”˜neath my cap gettin’ bolder?

No more cricket chirps
Leaves scrape the curbs
And the sky is dull
One Canadian goose
Leading all the troops
To Sea Rim Park down on the gulf
The wind blows a shiver on my shoulder
I fist my pocket lint ”˜til it’s over

An early morning frost
Powders up the stalks
In the fields of corn
A glint of the sun
As the day’s begun
Brings a smile with its warmth
The coffee in my cup is getting’ lower
And pace of my step getting’ slower

Silence is drowned
By the lonely sound
Of a Crow’s caw
The first snowflake
Is quite a display
Bringing to a close”¦ Autumn’s song]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/story_behind_the_song_autumns_song Fri, 08 Oct 2010 13:57:08 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - Blog http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/lifes_overtones_and_a_songwriter
Reading a book on how music is associated in our brain, coupled with my own personal experience with Retinitis Pigmentosa, a disease which gradually deteriorates the retina’s photo sensors, I learned something useful about writing.

What do I mean? Well let me start with the Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP) perspective. I think you’ll find this kind of interesting how the brain works. RP is a disease of gradual deterioration of the photo sensors in the Retina of the eye. The photo sensors are responsible for receiving and perceiving light. The retina with its photo sensors sends its information to the brain where we actually do our “seeing”.

For musically minded folks I’ll example it as such. As the retina deteriorates it could be likened audibly to an MP3 with lets say a starting bit rate of 256 kbs with normal vision , then becoming grainy at a 128 kbs then to a 96 kbs, to a 64 kbs and then to a 32 kbs and so on. With each level of deterioration the sound or visual aspect gets more granulated and little bits become missing. You can tell low bit rate MP3s by listening to the highs in lets say a high hat or crash symbol. High bit rates sound much more real than one with a very low rate as it becomes very grainy, almost warbled sounding.

For visually minded folks it could also be likened to a computer screen or TV with a high resolution picture to that of one with a very low resolution. The pixel count is decreased making the picture grainy with less ability to distinguish detail.

With RP however you can also have larger bits missing such as varying sized islands in the visual field that do not actually see what is in those areas, therefore things become missing which you do not realize. Imagine you’re at an outdoor theater and suddenly realize vandals have cut a couple holes six foot or so in diameter in the screen, and now the image projected has no background to reflect the image where the holes exist and you just don’t see what is meant to be there”¦ that’s what RP does in those islands.

For instance you might look at a wood paneled wall in your family room, and because of the characteristics of the RP, you do not see the contrasting antique white clock hanging there in front of you or slightly off to the side. Now, the interesting thing about the brain with RP and similarly with music as you will see in just a moment, it automatically interprets something ought be there in that island of missing area which the retina is not picking up.

Like an auto spell checker compensates for what it determines as being wrong. So does your brain when it detects a blank space where the eye does not physically see, such as where that clock is hung. As a result the brain, with its awesome creativity, will take it upon itself to see the island of space where the eye has blinded it, and fill it in with more of the same wood paneled wall it does see around it, assuming that’s what you’d expect to see.

So as a person with RP you might see the wall in full vigor with no blind spot, but miss the clock that is actually hanging there. Which can be a dangerous thing when driving in the car. Your retina’s photo sensors send a false message to the brain of what is really out on the road with it’s island of blank or missing information, your brain receives this, detects something is wrong, then in its creative process sees the road and surrounding landscape, decides “Oh, that’s what should be there.”, and goes right ahead and fills it in for you. Thereby you just see more open road and not that car in the oncoming lane. Are we having fun yet?

OK so how does this relate to music? I read a book on how music affects and is processed or associated in the brain, and found out how the brain will treat audio shortcomings.

In any given tone or note of a scale there are multiple overtones or harmonics ringing off at the same time in varying degrees of intensity. For instance a note or tone with a foundational frequency of 100 Hz has a series of calculated overtones ringing off at 200hz, 300 Hz, 400 Hz, 500 Hz, 600 Hz and so on. For the sake of clarity it is impossible to naturally have just one foundational tone without simultaneous overtones with it.

That said research has found that when the foundational tone of 100hz, the prominent and distinct note we would recognize as a note on a scale, has been digitally removed, and the remaining frequencies are medically played back directly to the auditory system in the body, even though the auditory system transfers to the brain only 200hz, 300hz, 400hz, 500hz, 600hz and so on, the brain in turn knows from passed experience there ought be a 100 Hz in that particular subset of overtones and will fill it in without us realizing it making it a foundational note again. It will even take slight imperfections in the overtones such as a 205Hz, 316Hz, 399Hz and etc. and allow us to hear a perfect note. This is to a point of course as we do recognize when someone sings off key or plays out of tune. The brain is incredibly powerful.

Recently I wondered how this would be so helpful with songwriting. When a person hears a certain kind of musical progression or tones, hears with it a certain kind of melody, and a certain kind of rhythm, tempo, words, and etc. all of them having elements that produce a joyful state, even though they might actually be experiencing a troubled time of life, they can listen to my song and like that clock on the wall that was glossed over, hopefully they’ll feel good again, if nothing else for at least a 3 minute duration of the song,

Of course we know this to be true just from life experience, who doesn’t feel an urge to tap a toe when hearing “The Devil Went Down To Georgia”, or feel lonely or sad if you hear Nadia’s Theme, or a sense of pride at “God Bless The USA”? But it is interesting to see more scientifically how this occurs. That is so cool.

The power of music as it is linked to your mind and emotion is incredibly powerful and it is the job of the songwriter to get his or her lyrical message across with a melodic pallet that is unison of the topic and also cause one to be receptive of good times, happy times, peaceful, awesome, prideful times, and even come along side you”¦ put an arm around and cry right along with you during sad times of life.

So next time you listen to a song, just realize it didn’t fall from the sky to some songwriter, but rather he or she is serving as an emotional tone in life, consciously stringing out the overtones of a note called “joy” even though that is missing in your life right now, but when you listen your brain says “Hey. All the right stuff is here for joy accept for joy itself, let’s go ahead and fill it in with the missing foundational tone/emotion and feel it anyway!”

The songwriter tries to take you on an emotional journey for a few minutes while you listen to a song that took hours, days, weeks, months or maybe even years to finish.]]> http://braddunsemusic.com/blog.html/lifes_overtones_and_a_songwriter Sun, 12 Sep 2010 11:26:32 -0700 Home Page of Performing Songwriter Brad Dunse - Brad Dunse - Blog 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 - 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 - 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 - Blog