Music Lovers, Is This Your Tribe?

Chin Injeti, Tonye Aganaba, Colleen Rennison

Thanks to my friends who came out last night to support my new favourite charity, Instruments Beyond Borders. A women in front of us summed up the evening perfectly when she said, “The only thing wrong with tonight was that it had to end.” We all agreed, but this morning my opinion has changed; it's a good thing that the concert ended. While we could have stayed there indefinitely, that was not the purpose of the evening. The purpose of the evening was to fill our hearts with music, and to inspire us to share with others. That purpose could only be achieved if we got out of our seats and back into the world where the message about Instruments Beyond Borders still needs to be heard. Their work providing funds and instruments to groups like the The Saint James Music Society and the Landfill Harmonic Orchestra of Cateura Paraguay is inspirational and heart-warming.

There were many generous hearts in the Fei & Milton Wong Experimental Theatre at SFU Woodward's last night. The sold-out event attracted some of Vancouver's top entrepreneurs and philanthropists; in this city there is a strong correlation between success in business and success in supporting great causes. Finding creative ways to weave business and charity together is part of the fabric of Vancouver's economy, and it's something I'm proud to support. Notables in the “Big Band Circle of Donors” included:

Peter Brown, Samir Manji (Amica), Steve Curtis, (ZAG Group), Garry Zlotnik (ZLC Financial), Erez Behar, (Davidson & Co.) Manny Padda, Shafin Diamond, Theo Sanidas, Praveen Varshney, (Mogo Financial) Murray Leith, Marina Newson, and Marcello Leone, (RYU). Community Partners included: SFU Woodward's, Prussin Music, Moksha Yoga Vancouver, Float House, M&R Environmental, and the Ben and Esther Dayson Charitable Foundation.

As Georgia O’Keeffe said, “To create one's world in any of the arts takes courage”. If you wonder how an organization as young as IBB pulled off such an extraordinary event and attracted so much support, it's because they had the courage to do so. They see the world as it is, and despite that, do not lose sight of the vision for what it could be. They are creating a world where children are given musical instruments; instead of a world where they fashion them out of the garbage we throw away. They are creating a world where inner city kids stand on stage with world class professionals wielding violin bows; instead of on the corner with gangs wielding guns. They are creating a world where what we earn grows from what we give; a world where politics, race, religion, and nationality are not boundaries that divide us, but borders we go beyond thanks to the transcendent power of music. Why are they able to achieve so much? My firm belief is because they bothered to try. They didn't sit around lamenting what couldn't be done, they got together and did what they could. Thanks to the generosity of last night's attendees and the organizers who brought them together, today they will be able to do a little more, and tomorrow more than that.

Lynn Colliar with Dan Payne holding a violin made from recycled materials

Good humour to get the audience going and keep the program on track was supplied by Lynn Colliar and Dan Payne, who introduced an amazing lineup of musical guests. Among these were: Ryan Guldemond, Jasmin Parkin, Tonye Aganaba, and Colleen Rennison, all of whom jammed with Chin Injeti, winner of three Grammies and two Junos. The evening also included the St. James Music Academy Senior Orchestra, Van Djano and the Borealis String Quartet. Cameron Wilson performed with Vancouver Kingsway MP Don Davies.

Cameron Wilson and Don Davies

The only “off colour joke” came during this set; and by “off colour” I mean it was a reference to a political colour not ordinarily found in my inkwell. While I do not normally wave “the Orange flag”, I was clapping loudly at Davies' entertaining performance, and today commend him for his support of this cause. Davies' inspiring performance causes me to send out a challenge to all MP's to get behind Instruments Beyond Borders; especially those who could join in on stage. Don Davies, perhaps next year you might consider a violin and piano performance? If so, there might be another politician willing to join you (stage right of course). Might I also suggest that a bit of the “Blues” be added to the program? As I said IBB inspires people from all walks of life and across the political spectrum; thanks for sharing the spotlight next year with any politicians willing to join in.

While unable to attend, Vancouver Mayor Gregor Robertson sent a video message of support as did Bramwell Tovey of the VSO. I'm so glad to know IBB has such support in this city. The event struck the perfect balance between a top rate performance and a casual kitchen party, where music flows spontaneously among friends. Among my friends in the audience I was pleased to welcome Shastine Hudson and Natalie Sonnen (Director of Life Canada).

This year I've been blessed many times to be invited to work on music projects with some amazingly talented musicians; the happiest messages I get in my inbox are those containing audio files from musicians who have set my lyrics to the their work. There is something wonderful about creating a work that blends another person's talents with one's own; when we learn the skills to collaborate in music, we learn the skills to collaborate in life. IBB is not just giving children instruments, they are giving them a life.

As I looked around the audience last night I thought: “This is my tribe.” These are the people who understand the importance children, the power of music, the tools of business, and the perennial need each generation has to collaborate to improve the world they inherited, so that it might be better when they pass it on to the next generation. These are the people who transcend boundaries to get done the jobs worth doing. If you have similar values and a willingness to contribute to this tribe, consider this your invitation do so.

Please check out http://www.instrumentsbeyondborders.org/ for ways you might lend your support.

Ryan Guldemond, Chin Injeti, Tonye Aganaba Jammin' for IBB

artistdeals.ca 

proudly supports Instruments Beyond Borders.

How to Start an Open Mic Night

Note: These tips are to help you get started with an open mic night. There is a separate list of tips on how to host one once it is up and running.

1. Talk to your musician friends and acquaintances to let them know about your idea for an open mic night.
2. Ask your musician friends A LOT of question about what THEY would like to see in an open mic night. Don't assume their answers will be the same as yours. Some may want very relaxed events, others may want something a little more professional and even competitive. The styles of music they want to play may also be quite diverse. 
3. Listen to what they have to say and take notes.
4. Get commitment in principle from your friends to play at the planned open mic. Follow up with your friends who have already committed once the venue, time and other details are established.
5. Find a venue that meets the needs of the potential performers as well as your own. Search around for the best option by visiting several places BEFORE asking to hold the event there. Remember in addition to pubs, bars and cafes, church halls, community centers, and clubs may also be open to hosting an open mic night.
6. If the venue does not already have audio equipment, find it from another source and plan how you will get it there. If you do not know how to operate the audio equipment learn how, or ensure that you have someone else who can do it for you. Good sound can make or break your evening.
7. Approach the venue operator letting them know the advantages to them that holding an open mic night would bring. Let the venue owner know you've already gathered several musicians and will be advertising to keep a fresh stream of great talent (and new customers) flowing.
8. Once you have a venue establish, ADVERTISE, ADVERTISE, ADVERTISE. Word of mouth advertising is still the best form, so chat up the idea with your friends and ask them to do the same. Remember even non-musicians may want to know about it. In addition to performers, you will need an audience, especially one that is supportive of the musician and the venue hosting the event. Use all social media available to you and keep it updated regularly. If using a facebook group, consider encouraging members to post photos and links to their recordings. Make this a platform for emerging musicians to get a bit of extra press...they will help you get the word out about the open mic if they know their music is being promoted along with it. Monitor all social media and remember to keep discussions clean, encouraging and friendly.
9. Establish the House Rules and stick with them. How do people sign up? How long does each performer have? What type of music can they play? Are other things like comedy acts and poetry readings also allowed? Be sure musicians know thee rules in advance so they can prepare accordingly.
10. Most importantly, HAVE FUN and ENCOURAGE OTHERS TO ENJOY THE NIGHT TOO!!!! We live in a world that craves social connection, music and art. Hosting an open mic night takes work, but it can be  A LOT of fun that fills a deep human need. 

In case you have any other questions about hosting an Open Mic or songwriting, feel free to contact me at katrinaboguski (at) hotmail.ca. All the best to you in hosting your own Open Mic...You can do it!

Check back to read Top 10 tips for hosting an established open mic night! Please also remember to follow the blog for updates.

If you're already hosting an Open Mic Night, 

please check here to see if it's on the list....if not, let me know why it should be!

10 Tips for Cultivating Creativity (How to be Creative)

1. Write three pages freehand every morning. Don't edit it; don't read it, just write it.
2. Devote your peak hours to creativity. If you're a morning person carve out time at the beginning of the day. If you're a night owl, reserve these hours for your creative work.
3. Spend time in nature. No one is more creative than the Creator. There's a lot to learn from him.
4. Try different forms of creative expression; it could be that you have not yet discovered your best medium.
5. Make a list of creative projects you want to do.
6. Do the creative projects on your list, starting with the one that scares you the most.
7. Set a deadline for one of your creative projects and meet it.
8. Pray for inspiration.
9. Ask for feedback on your work. If there is something to be gained from the feedback learn from it, if not thank the person who offered it and move on.
10. Be the best you can be, nothing more, nothing less. 

We're all creative. 

Sometimes the creative breakthrough we've been waiting for is just around the corner. 

We are meant to go around corners. 

If you've painted yourself into a corner, 

paint yourself out.

For more posts on Creativity click here.

Clarke's Tinwhistle Product Review Part Two

My list of comforts is a bit longer than Cicero's, but only slightly, and it definitely includes musical instruments. As people strive to find more value in life by simplifying and downsizing their possessions, music often becomes more important not less. It seems that music, and specifically music making, is a primal need; music exists in every culture. Whether you're seeking to satisfy that primal need, or whether some other motivation is causing you to consider taking up a musical instrument for the first time, the tinwhistle can be a great starting point. It is inexpensive, easy to learn, readily available around the world, and most importantly makes great music when in the hands of someone who has learned how to use it well.

Recently I found my tinwhistle under my bread-maker. This happy rediscovery of its existence caused me to feel a bit of guilt that I had not bothered to play it all summer, but at the same time it made me eager to share a few words about this instrument. Although neglected these last few months, the tinwhistle has been an important part of my life for the past few years. Its importance to me was not so much that I spent a lot of time playing the instrument, but rather that it gave me accesses to an inexpensive portable instrument and somehow connected me with the hundreds of thousands (possibly millions) of other tin-whistle players around the world. It was discovering how popular the instrument is becoming again thanks to You-tube instructional videos, that got me interested in learning how to play it. A young student of mine first introduced me to the sound of the tinwhistle many years ago. He was so great at making music with it that I assumed it would be a difficult instrument to play. The online instruction broke the process down into steps and gave me the confidence to try it myself.

Self-efficacy is an important part of music making. In other words, believing you have the ability to play a musical instrument goes a long way to your being able to actually do so. If you have difficulty believing you will be able to play an instrument, then guess what, you will have difficulty. Starting with a simple instrument like the tinwhistle can help you launch into the world of music, but to get off the ground, you have to believe you can. These humble instruments can produce a wonderful sound in the right hands. James Galway, the legendary flute player, got his start on a tinwhistle and his recordings demonstrate the beautiful sound that can be produced with it. With practice, you too may become a great musician.

Before reaching the virtuosity of great players like Galway, a few basics need to be learned. Some of these have to do with learning how to handle the instrument itself, others have to do with the basic discipline of learning any musical instrument. Perhaps most importantly at the beginning, you need to develop a sense that it is possible to learn this new skill. While much has been made of the "10,000 hour rule", the amount of time required to be an expert in something, Josh Kaufman explains that it can take as little as 20 hours to learn the basics of anything new. 

By breaking down a skill into its essential elements and focusing on the fundamentals, we can learn new things well enough to master the basics. Before learning more about the tinwhistle itself, watching this video about how we learn new things will help prime your mind for the experience of taking up this new instrument.  

Be sure to check back for more info on the tinwhistle and how to learn to play it.

The Sounds Before the Sound of Music

Several years ago I went on a train trip across North America. Beginning in Vancouver, down to Seattle, across the northern United States, down south as far as Florida then back up the east coast into Montreal and back west through Canada. It was an amazing solo trip lasting a month. Along the way I met many people and saw many sights, memories of which often come to mind when I am writing lyrics. The constant "chick-a-dee, chick-a-dee, chick-a-dee..." sound of the train on the tracks also comes back when working on certain rhythms. The train has a series of unique percussion sounds that start to influence the timing of conversation while on board. The noise is inescapable, and for those who like train travel, ever so pleasant.

A few days ago I was on a model steam railway at Burnaby's Confederation Park. This experience brought back the memory of the sound of a real train and the realization of how much the sound of trains are part of my life. Much of my life has been lived within earshot of the trains and their sound has always been a comforting one in my life. My proximity to trains no doubt influences why their imagery and sound so often seep into my work. The realization of their influence caused me to ponder what frequent external sounds impact the music of other musicians. Do train sounds influence your music? Is it the sound of crashing waves or certain birds that act as the accompaniment to your words? I'd love to know what influences your work so please leave a comment or send me an e-mail (katrinaboguski(at) hotmail.ca to chime in on this discussion.

What Does a Tin Whistle Have in Common With a Bread-maker?

Originally, the title of this post was intended to be ironic. The answer was going to be "Nothing, except for the fact that I found my tin whistle under my bread-maker this afternoon." However, the more the idea was considered, the more similar bread-makers and tin whistles began to appear. Both tin whistles and bread-makers can be easily forgotten about; they have the potential to make life easier when used; once you learn the basics of how to use them, you will be able to produce an endless amount of variations; both can be purchased for very little money, and are the type of items to be found at garage sales where often you can find them still in their packages; people are always surprised by what they can produce and happy to find someone who actually uses them. There are probably other comparisons, but for now this list will suffice. My intention was not to sing the praises of bread-makers but of the tin whistle; this most humble of instruments that has brought the gift of music to countless people around the world.

I've had three memorable introductions to the Irish tin whistle. The first occurred many years ago when a young catechism student of mine brought out his tin whistle at the end of class and asked if he could perform a tune. He knocked our socks off. This little kid had an incredible command of the instrument and had only been playing it a short while.   He no doubt had a natural gift for music and reverence for the instrument. The fact that both of his parents were from Ireland may have meant that he was taught to appreciate its music from the cradle and I'm glad that he helped pass that appreciation on to me. His music gave me great respect for both the instrument and the people who play it.

My second introduction to the tin whistle came when I discovered the online tutorials offered by the Jesuit Ryan G. Duns. Duns taught a course called the Introduction to the Irish Tin Whistle as part of the Irish Studies Department at Fordam University. I can't remember exactly how I stumbled upon these videos, but do remember it was shortly before leaving for Nova Scotia in 2010. Duns' simple videos somehow captured my imagination and the spirit of why I was moving to Nova Scotia in the first place. I was seeking a gentler way of living and wanted to nurture a life where there was still time for things like music, writing and simple pleasures that are often forgotten in our high tech world. The penny whistle traveled with me to Nova Scotia and back home to Vancouver a year later. Although I did not play the whistle much while in Nova Scotia, Ryan Duns' other lessons were never far from my mind. In one of the videos he said something akin to 'find your own voice'. I could not find the precise reference to quote him directly; these may not have been his exact words, but this was the lesson I took from the videos. In Nova Scotia I believe I did find my own voice, and much of what is posted in this blog comes from that voice. It is easier to understand the necessity to find our own voice when encountering people like Duns who are using theirs in unique ways. Through his voice he is passing on not only the tradition of the tin whistle, but many other worthwhile traditions which have been forgotten or are perhaps being heard for the first time by many.

A sample the Duns' tin whistle tutorials can be found here. I would encourage you visit his other videos if you want to learn this instrument, or if you are curious about the other things you may learn from his clips.

The third encounter with the tin whistle was today when I took a break from writing to tackle some other chores. As the sad thought of summer slipping away started to develop, it was quickly replaced by the thought of making bread in the fall. That led to organizing the counter on which the bread-maker sits, which very happily led to the rediscovery of the tin whistle. My Clarke's Original tinwhistle  was nestled underneath the appliance that hasn't been used all summer. I'm not sure when I last attempted to play the tin whistle, but likely it was some time around the last time I made bread in the bread-maker. I was not consciously looking for the whistle, but subconsciously it was precisely the thing my heart was set on finding. Its appearance not only brought back a flood of happy memories, it solved three problems which were beginning to cause me some frustration.

This post is continue here

Crocodile River

Crocodile, river, crocodile, run,

I've had enough of your crocodile fun

Petty little lies, stupid little fears

I've had enough of your crocodile tears

I'm on the river ridin a raft,

Sun on my face, wind on my back

Heading right down to the rum runner's shack

I'm gone for good won't never come back

You didn't call to see I was fine,

You just called hear to yourself wine
Dropped me a note, I dropped you for good
I drew a line and that's where I stood.

Sitting on the porch in this shanty dig,

Cellar full of rum and plenty to swig
Rock n' and a rollin in my rocking chair
Sweet smell of summer, fillin the air.

Crocodile river, crocodile run,

Crocodile gun and bootleg rum
Crocodile river, crocodile tears,
A shabby old shack and nothing to fear.

Crocodile river, crocodile rock

Just gotta fix me the hole in my sock
Patched up my jeans and I'm looking sweet,
Just gotta get me some shoes for my feet

You called me vindictive, you called me a swine

From my new perspective I'm doing just fine
You keep away you crocodile fool
Or you'll learn a lesson they don't teach in school

I've got a gun, loaded and cocked

Ready to shoot at the next crying croc
Come here again and I'm gonna shoot,
Skin me a croc for some crocodile boots.

Crocodile, river, crocodile, run

dee, da, dee, dee, da dee, dee da, dee dum...

Katrina Boguski January 10, 2014

Appalachian Moonlit Night

Like a scene from some young boy’s dreams

She just appeared in those cut off jeans,

Like a page from a magazine,

She walked by like a beauty queen

Thumping heart and a nervous smile,

He looked up and he stared a while

She had the walk and she had the style

Had the look of a girl gone wild

She was Appalachian dynamite

Just one spark and she’d light the night

He was home from mining coal

Night like that there was just one goal

He’d sold his soul for that old black rock

He’d say hello but he could not talk

She walked by and she smiled at him

He felt the surge of a deadly sin

Virginia born and mountain grown

He got a whiff of that sweet cologne

He was getting ready to make his mark

Circling her like a hungry shark

Just as he was about to speak

Felt the hairs on his neck rise high

An old green Ford and her redneck pa,

Just drove in with his shotgun cocked

He took a breath and he stepped aside

He sipped his beer and he swallowed pride

He lost his chance but he saved his skin

Tempting moment but saved from sin

Her pa walked through that old bar door

He dragged her straight across the floor

Girl in left hand, gun in right,

Ain’t no boy gonna win that fight

The miner played some games of pool

It gave his heart some time to cool

It seems that night he played real well

Into his hands the bets just fell

Feeling strong and feeling fine,

Courage gained from sweet moonshine

He drove out to that girl divine

Picked her up in his beat up Chev

High octane and his engine revved

They drove that night to the county line

An old tin ring and some cheap red wine

He married her and he loved her so

They had some kids and they watched them grow

The years go fast and time just flies

They grow up before your eyes

Then ‘fore too long on a moonlit night

His own girl dressed in blue jeans tight

She struts in to some miners’ bar

He jumps in to his beat up car

He gets to the place and he knows the game

Every boy knows why he came

He’ll save her this time ‘n one time more

By dragging her across the floor

Girl in left hand, gun in right,

Ain’t no pa gonna win that fight

Appalachian dynamite

Will find a way to light the night

Miner boy you’d better run

Or that’ll be you with that cocked shot gun

Oh Liberia

October 5^th, 2011

Katrina Boguski

Oh Liberia!

I too feel your pain,

Different story but the same refrain

Right here, right next to you

Oh Liberia!

I saw your house and it set me free,

No roof and growing trees

Some might see a hanging post

But I met up with another ghost

Two small boys and a chimpanzee,

Oh you set me free,

You seemed so much like me

You showed me too what I had been

You reminded me what I had seen

Oh you set me free,

You seemed so much like me

Some have dogs and some have cats

Some have chimps but we all have pets

Right here, right next to you

Oh what could I do?

Photos took me to my own home,

The one where I had grown

My home lost its roof like yours

We all live through different wars

The mad man came to my home too,

Right here, right next to you

Oh Liberia!

Your summer is hot my winter is cold;

When Winters came the roof didn’t hold!

Oh Liberia!

Oh Liberia! Oh, Oh Liberia!!!

Winters came and he killed my cat

For years I couldn’t go back

Different blood; different ground

Same heart beating the same sad sound

Oh Liberia! Right here right next to you

Oh what can one child do?

The naked truth and the naked lie,

Right here, right next to you

Oh Liberia! Oh what could one man do?

Right here, right next to you

Oh, you set me free

When I discovered you were just like me

Right here, right next to you

Oh Liberia! Oh what could one girl do?

Right here, right next to you

They can take my house

And destroy my home,

They can burn my photos

And can break my bones

Right here right next to you

Oh what could we do?

One’s shots taken with different eyes

More important than he realized

Other shots drunken with blood shot eyes

So destructive and he agonized

Some sad stories just harmonize

Some worlds closer when the sun does rise

War shots fired from a different gun

Fly out faster than a child can run

Oh Liberia, we are just like you

Different bars in the same big zoo

Your sun shines the whole day through

We place eyes between the rails

The same big prison just different jails

Different cells the same big block

Different times the same big clock

Different skin some white some black

Oh we all go back

Two cells at the very start

Same sad sorrow in a different heart

Winters came and damage did

Oh we were only kids

Oh Liberia! Oh what did they do?

Oh to me, to you?

He’d kill for nothing; he’d kill for more

Same devil fighting in a different war

Same child crying in a different room

Same child lying in a different tomb

The same bad sorrow the bad fight

The same bad dream just a different night

Some burn photos, some a bridge

Same young soldier just a different badge

Same bad baggage just a different bag

Same old journey just a different leg

Same young traveller with a different pack

Oh we all go back

All of us get cast adrift

Same kid jumping off a different cliff

I anchor you, you anchor me

Same raft floating in a different sea

I see your house and I see those trees

I smell the surf I feel the breeze

Right here right next to me

Oh you set me free

Same old ruins in the same old spot

Oh we have grown a lot

We grew up and the trees grew tall

Oh I could hear your call

Oh, Oh Liberia!

Monkey see, and monkey do

Monkey tree grew at my ruins too

Same old puzzle the same old plot

Same old story I had forgot

Same old shadow was chasing me

Oh Liberia! Oh you set it free

No roof means the stars shine in

Some day soon we might begin

Seeing things that still could be

Living dreams that wake in me

Hanging in a jungle with a chimpanzee

Oh Liberia!

Some foundations are set in stone

Oh Liberia!

Some old photos just can’t be torn

Oh Liberia!

Some old memories just can’t get burned

Oh Liberia!

Some old lessons can still be learned

Oh, Oh Liberia!

Some old secrets just can’t be told

Oh Liberia!

Some old Winters are still too cold

Some cats don’t get all nine lives

Some dads see through different eyes

Some kids die and some kids live

Some folks take and some folks give

Oh Liberia, oh what could you see?

Oh what could you be? Oh Liberia!

Freedom starts with a different gaze

Living comes in different ways

Writing stories on a different page

Waking up in a novel age

Oh Liberia, oh what could you see?

Oh what could you be?

Oh Liberia! Freedom still lives on in me

The only difference between death and life

The only difference between peace and strife

Between being kept and being free

And the kind of being that we might be

It’s what we see in a different place

Within the space between the bars, 

Between the homes with only stars

Between the worlds, between the wars

Between the worlds between the words

Between the notes

Between the hopes

Oh Liberia!

See no evil only peace

Boat still drifting in a far off sea

See the smile upon my face

Walk a mile in a tiny space

Between the meaning in the lines

Between the memories in our minds

Between the space between you to me

Chimp still swinging in a jungle tree

Talmida

Katrina Boguski

October 5 2011

Talmida and tell me true

What more meaning could I take from you?

Ketuvim and a coat of arms

Kettle drums and no more harm

Kettle boiling for a cup tea

All still learning what to see

Senseless words from senseless fright

Senseless lines and a whole new life

Sentence writ and sentence gone

Whole new life gets carried on

Whole new work and a whole new way

Whole new page gets wrote today

Tell me Talmid tell me too

What more meaning could I take from you?

Learning meanings and living songs

Leaving lines and leaving wrongs

Leaving lines upon my face

Some still learning fall from grace

Simple meanings simple lines

Simple chords and simple rhymes

Simply written in simple time

Working purpose and wanted sign

Working well and making sense

Working soon to pay the rent

Talmida and tell me true

What more meaning could I take from you?

Kitchen parties and kitchen sink

Catching thoughts for you to think

Kesef, coin and copper line

All still working for a different kind

Tell me Talmid tell me too

What more meaning could I take from you?

Understanding hope, in folk

Whole new meaning to invoke

Under siege and overcast

Some still hurting from a tortured past

Hope can move your thoughts from pain

Taking you toward different gain

Give out more than you take back

Hope can give you what you lack

All still learning how to feel

All things turning in a great big wheel

All still walking in different shoes

All still learning different news

Tell me Talmid, Talmida

Tell me truly what you saw

Tell me everything you know

Tell me how the future goes

Some Come Together

Katrina Boguski

October 5^th, 2011

Some come together some fall apart

Some come loving with a different heart

Some go over some come back

Some bring peace and some attack

Some live mourning all their dead

Some bleed blue and some bleed red

Some have hunger some have bread

Some come lying in a different bed

Sun comes up and sun goes down

Some start losing what they have found

Some lose heart and some lose minds

Some lose dollars some just dimes

Each one betting on a different game

Each war ending much the same

Moonlit night and a midnight dream

Tender moments with another being

All bring memories of another scream

Projected on to a different screen

Some come together some fall apart

Some come loving with a different heart

Some stories end and some never start

Some notes flat and some notes sharp

Some keys black some keys white

Some come together for another fight

Some sing songs and some fight fright

Some shoot guns and cry at night

Some hold arms and some hold hands

Some come together from different lands

Some shed tears and some shed blood

Some tears flow and some tears flood

Some taste life and some taste death

Some breathe spirit, some just breath

Each wave breaking on a different shore

Each song bringing out another chord

Each foot walking on a different floor

Each spirit walking through a different door

Each priest preaching out a different word

Each soul praising the same old Lord

Each one calling him a different name

Each knee bending just the same

Some tracks lie on different lines

Some truths revealed in different times

Some arrows fly and some just fall

Some friends write but some don’t call

Some get up and some get down

Some guys smile and some guys frown

Some have rhythm some have words

Some come crashing into different worlds

Some have more and some have less

Some conceal and some confess

Some have the excess others lack

Some men working on a different track

Some work breaking on a different back

Some kids will and some kids won’t

Some kid do and some just don’t

Some skip rope and some skip bail

Some be the hammer some be the nail

Some arrows swinging on a different rail

Some bars keeping us in different jails

Some play games and some play songs

Some write words and some right wrongs

Some folks teach and some folks learn

One bridge built another burned

Some graves cry and some graves turn

Some money stolen some gets earned

Some soldiers marching to a different drum

Some cry out for what they’ve done

Some drummers drumming to a different beat

Some soldiers marching home on different feet

Some fights begin with a fleeting need

Some wars started from a different creed

Some take a shot some shoot drugs

Some men hanging out with different thugs

Kandahar and Iraq

Some fall forward some fall back

Some come home Making Waves

Some got lost and some got saved

Some come together some fall apart

Some come loving with a different heart

Some come together…

Words to Mulholland

October, 8^th, 2011

Katrina Boguski

Oh hey, hey Mulholland,

Oh hey, hey, old man

You’re a complex hero

I’m a complicated fan

Oh hey, hey Mulholland,

Oh hey, hey old man

You’re a California dreamer,

Born in Ireland

From school, to digging ditches

At the start of your career

Working hard each day,

Rose to chief engineer

You did change one city’s luck

Bringing water through that duct

Taking drought and doubt away

Became the father of L.A

You worked when clipper ships

Still sailed the sea

Though you couldn’t walk on water

You brought life to me

You took a group of hard rock miners

You rocked them night and day

And no matter what they say

You brought the water to L.A.

They could bring L.A. to the water

Or the water to the town

So you took mules, men and whiskey

And you brought that water down

Now I do know there’s more to say,

That your story ain’t all grand

The folks of Owens’ Valley

Lost the water in their land

It was a pretty big diversion,

You know I’ve had my digressions too

But every time I raise a cup

I still think about you

Oh hey, hey Mulholland,

Oh hey, hey old man

Water pipes ‘n heavy drinking

Is how that water run began

Then of course there was that day

At St. Francis dam

When water breached wall

Flooding all the land

Now I know you hung your head

When you thought about that day

I know you envied dead men

In the graves where they did lay

Being father of the city

Couldn’t take the pain away

Oh it wasn’t very pretty

Yeah we’ve all had bad days

Now they blamed you at first

Said ‘cause of you the wall did burst

The fields below immersed,

But they still quenched their thirst

Now hey, hey Mulholland you listen to me

There was something beneath the dam

That you simply could not see

Deep beneath the rock, well below the wall

There was a great big fault

And when that crack let loose

Dam opened like a vault

Oh hey, hey Mulholland,

Oh hey, hey old man

When mother earth is fractured

You don’t stand a chance

So go back to that victory day

When water flowed at will

Go back to that grand cascade

Roaring down that hill

You go back and say

I am the father of L.A.

“There it is; take it”

It flows out everyday

I’ll take my tin cup running

All the way back to you

It started with a vision

One I did have too

Oh hey, hey Mullholland

You ain’t all that bad

Days when I was crying

You were all I had

And now my words are flowing

Gushing like your steam

Oh hey, hey Mullholland

We have all got dreams!

Lullaby Revolution

Lullaby Revolution

Katrina Boguski

October 7^th 2011

Oh child soldier lay down gun

Oh child soldier evening’s come

Oh child soldier lay down head

Oh child soldier sleep in your bed

Where do you sing from? I hear you clear

Where do you hail from? I feel you near

Bullets still hailing fast overhead

I cannot sleep now I might wake up dead

Oh child soldier close up your eyes

Oh child soldier I hear your cries

Oh child soldier bullets will cease

Oh child soldier sleep now in peace

What do you mean ma’am? The bullets still fly

What do you mean ma’am? How do you hear me cry?

I cannot see you amongst all this smoke

Day’s worth of killing in blood I am soaked

Oh child soldier I’ll wash it out

Oh child soldier don’t ever doubt

Oh child soldier please sleep in peace

Oh child soldier stain and fear release  

Why do you sing to me? Why do you care?

Why be your sweet words sounding my ear?

Maybe this killing was all I could take

Maybe I’m dreaming while I am awake

Oh child, no child really I care

Oh child, sleep, soon sunrise be here

Oh child rest now others rising too

Oh child slumber they’re rising for you

Who are these people you say rise up?

Who are they fighting? Will more war erupt?

Where do I run now? Where do I hide?

I’m so tired of killing and God knows I tried

Oh child no child they rise up calm

Oh child no child they don’t carry bomb

Oh child they rise up singing instead

Oh child, sleep now peaceful in your bed

I’m too tired to run off too tired to fight

I’m too tired to shoot back and still filled with fright

I am too young to die now I just want to weep

I am too young to die and your song makes me sleep

Yes child, yes child I know your fright

Yes child, yes child still sleep all night

Yes child, yes child I sing you to sleep

Yes child, yes child feel free to weep

O ma’am I hear you my arms growing tired

I can’t hold this gun up but still shots are fired

Enemy surrounds me; please sing to them as well

Maybe they hear you and sleep for a spell

Yes child yes child we sing to them all

Yes child yes child soon all guns do fall

Yes child yes child they hear too

Yes child yes child they’re tired just like you

Children now; enemy no more,

Just another sleepy child starting to snore

Shh! Child Shh! Child do you hear the sound?

Arms are getting heavy arms are falling down

Shh! Child Shh! Child do you hear that noise?

Eyes are getting heavy responding to our voice

 

Oh child turn now turning in your bed

A new revolution fought with song instead

Oh child wars start first with brutal words

Oh child long before a bullet is ever heard

Bullets fly by now, but words fly out too

Oh child peace words fly in lullabies to you  

Tuck in your head now, tight in your bed

Try to sleep softly remembering what I said

Take in the sweet air wafting from the sea

Turn in tonight child listening to me

Ahh I do hear you and hear guns no more

Ahh I do breathe the air wafting from the shore

Ahh I do close my eyes and start now to sleep

Ahh I do thank you for hearing us weep

Good night child, Good night child

Good night children all

Thank you for sleeping and hearing our call

The lullaby revolt has started tonight

The lullaby revolt will win without fight

The lullaby revolt keeps children in bed

The lullaby revolt keeps them living not dead

Sing now! Sing now! Sing now all!

Raise up your voices join in the call

Sing out a lullaby to some child tonight

Lullabies at bedtime are every child’s right

They’re our children now; enemy no more,

Just another sleepy child starting to snore

Shh! Child Shh! Child do you hear the sound?

Arms are getting heavy arms are falling down

Shh! Child Shh! Child do you hear that noise?

Eyes are getting heavy responding to our voice

Shh! Child, Shh! Child Shh! Child Shh!