NOTE TO SINGERS:
Problem: You find a song you like. You can't sing it in the original
key.
Solution: Email me (zouki (at) earthlink dot net) and I'll send you a
version transposed to whatever
key you want! ANTHEM FOR SEPTEMBER 11TH
A commemoration to the melody of "Battle Hymn of the Republic"
Dedicated to the brave men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice on
that day, which indeed we will never
forget. May God hold them and their families in the palm of His hand.
On December 3rd, 1999, a homeless couple were responsible for a
devastating fire in an abandoned warehouse
in Worcester. In the process of fighting the fire, six firefighters
lost their lives.
This song is a memorial to these men, and by extension a statement of
gratitude to all the brave firefighters who
selflessly put their lives on the line for us every single day.
It winds its way south from Otsego Lake near Cooperstown, New York,
through the northern and central ranges
of the Appalachian Mountains in Pennsylvania. By the
time it meets the Chesapeake Bay, the Susquehanna River
has flowed 444 miles. With an average daily
rush of 22 billion gallons of water, the Susquehanna is the largest
contributor of freshwater to
the Bay.
Factual but not descriptive of this lovely river, which meanders
through much picturesque country on its way to the
bay. (Some of my maternal ancestors were farmers in the Afton/Nineveh
area of Chenango County, NY, through
which the Susquehanna flows. I didn't know this when I wrote the song.)
Some of the country the river flows through was once active coal-mining
country - a few of the mines remain, but many
are closed down. In their heyday, however, the mines
provided work for generations of immigrant laborers and their
sons and grandsons. This
song is dedicated to all of them, especially the Irish contingent.
This a more-or-less "art song" that I composed many years back and
recently revised. It didn't originally
have anything to do with Texas and I'm not sure how or why it does now.
The success of this piece would seem to depend on it being performed in
the right place at the right time.
This is one of the first songs I ever wrote. We had at least two cats
at the time and I guess I was inspired by
the way they could manage to go off into a groove somewhere, regardless
of what was going on around them.
I love dogs too, but they're not anywhere near as introspective
(or "mysterious") as cats seem to be. What you
see with a dog is what you get; with a cat you get what the cat wants
you to get. All clear?
They say you should write about what you know, so this song is
based on my background in the deep-sea
shipping business. If you're not sure what a ship pilot does, this song
will help you understand. (So far the song
seems to be very well received, for which I am grateful!)
This song is dedicated to the memory of a pilot, Capt. Lyn Deibert, who
lost his life boarding a vessel in stormy
seas off Cape Henry in February 2007.
This was composed during the "bossa nova" craze of the late
Sixties and early Seventies, when everyone was
in love with Brazilian music and performers like Antonio Carlos Jobim
and Astrud Gilberto were so popular.
The funny thing is that - unlike 99 percent of other musical fads -
bossa nova and samba are really excellent music,
and they have manifested a great staying power over the years to prove
their worth.
So this and "Little Girl" are my intended contributions to a great
durable musical genre. Viva bossa nova!
This is an older song, composed during a New York blizzard (1972?)
while I was recovering from a dislocated
shoulder (which gave me an excuse for sitting around looking out the
window a lot).
I still like snow, but after the Cape Cod winter of 2005, I think
I've seen enough to last me a few hundred years.
This is a romantic ballad that will I hope be meaningful to anyone who
has shared life with a dog. A certain "willing
suspension of disbelief" would come in handy as you read through the
lyrics but never forget that even the dumbest
dog is roughly 2.78 times smarter than any human.
Words of this song can be found (with no music or attribution as to
author) in
Maureen Jolliffe's "Third Book of
Irish Ballads" (Mercier, Cork, n/d). The tune is mine.
This song is dedicated to the women of Dublin, all "of a certain age",
who will always represent to me the kindness
and civility that may be in the process of
disappearing forever (and not only from Dublin).
So this is for Rosie, and Chrissie, and Kitty, and Fanny, and all the
other ladies about whom it may truthfully be
said: their likes will not be seen again.
I mention in the commentaries to other songs that many songs that I
write are based on a composite experience, so
that the protagonists in the songs are not individually real but are a
synthesis of different real people.
This is certainly true of this song, which is a snapshot of the life of
an young immigrant who is in the process of
realizing that his time in America has not met - and maybe will never
meet - his expectations. I've encountered a
lot of people like this over the years, and you probably have too.
The story of the Four Chaplains who perished so heroically aboard the
ship "Dorchester" in February 1942
has always been an inspiring one, but as years pass fewer and fewer
people remember the incident or the
incredible sacrifice made by these heroic men of God. This is my
attempt to rekindle interest in the subject
before it disappears from our national consciousness entirely. (There's
an excellent website
for those interested
in finding out more about the Four Chaplains.)
This is a song version of a poem by Frances "Fanny" Parnell
(1848-1882), the "Patriot Poet" who was
the sister
of the Irish patriot Charles Stuart Parnell and every bit his equal
when it came to agitating for
land reform in
19th-century Ireland. Fanny spent most of her time and energy working
for the Irish cause in the
United States,
living in New Jersey with her American mother (whose father was one of
the commanding officers of the USS Constitution).
Fanny died of heart failure in New Jersey but is buried in Mount Auburn
Cemetery in
Cambridge,
Mass.
Verses 1-3 of this version were quoted in "History Ireland" magazine,
Spring 1999 edition; verse 4 quoted
in an article by Willie White in the Carlow
Nationalist [newspaper], Jan.14 [1999] edition)
If you've ever attended a dance, Irish or otherwise, where there were
some older folks in attendance, you
should be able to appreciate this little waltz!
One of my first "formal" composition efforts. I'm not sure if it's a
folk song or an "art" song, but I hope
you'll be able to enjoy it on either level! (Note: this song has
undergone considerable revision recently, so
check out the changes even if you've looked at it before.)
This song began its existence as I was flying over Eastern Virginia
headed to the vicinity of
Camp Lejeune NC on some personal business involving our eldest son. He
was in the Marine
Corps at the time.
The rights and wrongs of the war in Iraq will be debated for many
years, but I don't think
there's any dispute - in the US at least - about the heroic role being
played by 99% of our
military personnel on the ground over there. This song is dedicated to
all of them. Blessed
indeed be the peacemakers.
While I was doing some research on an aspect of New York harbor
history, I came across the remarkable story of
Katie Walker, who served as keeper of the
Robbins Reef lighthouse for 33 years until she retired in 1919.
The Robbins Reef lighthouse still stands in New York harbor, but
it's been unmanned (or, in this case, unwomanned)
for many years. New Yorkers who commute back and forth
to Staten Island know the lighthouse very well, even if they
don't know its name, since
it stands less than a mile from the ferry terminal in St. George.
Its days as an "lighted aid to
navigation" are apparently over but the building will be there forever!
There are several versions of Katie's story on the Internet, including
the version written in 1999 by
Captain T.P. Harris
for the SailNortheast website.
It's called Mind the Light - the
Story of Kate Walker.
Another
source is the article on the
National
Lighthouse Museum
website.
(Note that I use both "Kate" and "Katie"
in the song - artistic license and all that!)
Another "bossa nova" wannabe! Great music came out of Brazil in the
1960's and 1970's, and the nice
part is that it's still heard and appreciated today.
The sailors who sacrificed so much during their service in the Merchant
Marine during World War II never
(to the best of my knowledge) had their own "service song" to
commemorate what they had done. This is my
contribution to the memory of these brave but largely forgotten heroes.
I'm not a "morning person" in the sense of jumping happily out of bed
at 6:00 a.m. to take my cold shower
and morning jog. I'll put up with morning but I'll do it under protest.
This song should help elucidate my feelings.
My tribute to the traditional musicians of past, present, and future
who have brought so much to my life and
will continue to bring their gifts to the world long after I'm gone.
This song is based on a true story, an amazing one at that, concerning
the 1876 rescue of some Irish Fenian
prisoners from an Australian jail by a New Bedford whaler named
"Catalpa". It's a great story and would
probably make a wonderful movie or action cartoon (or whatever they're
called these days.)
Here's the plot:
"On a sunny afternoon 127 years ago today, one of the most brazen
rescue missions in history was launched
from New Bedford. Setting out in a whaling ship called The Catalpa,
Capt. George Smith Anthony was determined
to spring six Irish rebels from the notorious Australian prison,
Fremantle Gaol, where they had been incarcerated
by the English."
- Peter F. Stevens, The Voyage of
the Catalpa: A Perilous Journey and Six Irish Rebels
A song in John Conolly or Stan Rogers style (I hope) about those who
make their living from the sea. When I
wrote this song, we weren't aware of the fact that there were actual
fishermen in our (my wife's) family. Since
they fished out of Kilkeel (County Down), I had to change the lyrics
from "My family were fishermen from the
WESTERN coast of Ireland" to "NORTHERN coast". Otherwise the sentiments
are the same.
This is an older song and seems even to me to be a little depressing. I
don't recall any particular circumstances
that would have required me to write a "Stormy Monday" song like this
but anyway here it is.
"A trip down Memory Lane..." (as Joe Franklin - remember him? - used to
say).
I was very lucky to grow up in a great neighborhood (the Fort Hamilton
section of Bay Ridge in Brooklyn)
and this is my tribute to it. (By the way - it hasn't changed a heck of
a lot in 50+ years!)
I always thought this would be a great song for Tony Bennett but then
I'm always thinking dopey thoughts.
If you're ever lucky enough to visit Juneau, Alaska, you might come
across the statue of a dog down by the harbor.
That dog is Patsy Ann, a bull terrier of sorts who was the official
greeter of the city for many years. (Here's a link to
a website that has more information.) She's well deserving of this
modest musical tribute!
This song celebrates the back roads and blue highways of America. It's
a great country, but sometimes you have to
get off the interstate to see it (taking the train is another good way).
This is a great little song from Colm O Lochlainn's "More Irish
Street Ballads" (Pan Books, 1978, out of print but copies
probably available online somewhere). The words were written by Arthur
Griffith, father of the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921.
There's no melody given or alluded to in O Lochlainn's book, so I made
one up. Not among the gems of the literature but
(I hope) adequate to the task!
Geography lesson:
Rockaway is a peninsula in the southern part of Queens County in New
York City. It's located between Kennedy
Airport and the ocean, and is now (as it has been for
many years) mainly a residential area. It's a very popular
place in the summer, and its long
sandy beaches are always crowded.
We were talking to our friend Pat O'Brien a while back, and Pat
mentioned that Rockaway was the first place he
had stayed after coming to America. From years back
until fairly recently, Rockaway was predominantly an Irish
neighborhood, and for many other
Irish immigrants it was the first stop on their journey into American
life.
I had never heard a song about Rockaway before, so I thought it might
be time to write one before the Irish
connection was even more of a memory than it is now.
This song is dedicated to Pat and Kay O'Brien (Kay's
from the Bronx, but that's another story!)
Saint Raymond's Cemetery in the Bronx is one of the largest in the
city. Over much of its recent history,
the Bronx has had a largely Irish population, so it shouldn't come as a
surprise that many of the names
on the stones of Saint Raymond's are Irish ones.
This song commemorates the fact that there are three great fiddlers -
Michael Coleman, James Morrison,
and Johnny Cronin - buried in Saint Raymond's. (Andy McGann has since
been laid to rest there too,
but he was still with us when this song was composed.)
There are doubtless hundreds more musicians and friends of traditional
music buried in Saint Raymond's
as well, and this song is dedicated to all of them. May they all rest
in peace until that Big Session in the
Sky gets rolling!
This is a song based on a composite of experiences of young Irishmen
getting involved in situations they
probably would have avoided if they had known better
(or been in a different place at a different time).
It's an old sad story and it's
hard to say if it's finally come to an end or not.
This is a long song, but then again, most wars are long wars.
In the westernmost part of Ireland - a place way out in Co. Galway
called Connemara - there's a road that runs
for miles along the cliffs looking over the
ocean. It's difficult to describe how beautiful it is out there along
the
Sky Road - or how easy
it would be to fall in love!
This song was inspired by an article in the newspaper about an incident
that took place outside a local "women's
health facility" (or whatever the euphemism du jour was at the time)
some years back. The details were
pretty graphic
and I don't repeat them in the song, but I hope my words will help
capture some of the sadness of the event.
Every time that it appears that a real honest-to-God peace process has
taken hold in Northern Ireland, something
comes along to throw cold water on it -
a parade, a bank robbery, yet another killing for no apparent reason,
and
so
forth. Sooner or later everyone will get it right, but you have to
wonder how much
more the good people of
Northern Ireland - Catholics and Protestants alike -
will have to suffer before that day comes. But progress is
definitely being made!
Ships have always been considered mysterious and romantic (although
when you have to stand on a pier
somewhere at 4:00 am on a cold January morning waiting for one to tie
up, the mystery and romance might
not be too obvious).
I guess the idea is not necessarily to wait until you're closing in on
60 years of age to fulfill a lifelong dream,
especially one that involves intense
physical labor.
But I had always wanted to work on a tugboat, and when the opportunity
presented itself, I leaped at the chance.
"Thuban" is a little tug that operates in the waters around Vineyard
Sound and Buzzards Bay, towing an oil
barge and occasionally a gravel scow back
and forth from the Vineyard to New Bedford and other exotic ports.
In fair
weather it's nice work; in foul weather it's awful. But, as the saying
goes, somebody has
to do it.
My career as a tug deckhand was short-lived but - as my wife says - at
least I can say I tried it!
This is my light-hearted perception of the Irish emigrant experience. I
have a great deal of respect for the men and
women who left the security (if not necessarily the comfort) of their
native land to come to America, never knowing
whether they would be successful and/or happy in this country so
different in so many ways from their own.
Like many of my songs, this one is based on a composite of different
experiences. The hero is a fictional character.
but I hope that there's enough
reality about his life as described in the song to make it seem as if
we've met him
before.
This is my personal effort to provide a substitute for the "Wedding
Song" that always seems to be performed
(usually badly) by one of the bride's cousins - you
know the one: she was a flower child back in 1969 and still
has the beat-up no-name
twelve-string guitar (and a tattoo) to prove it. (AND she has every
Peter Paul and Mary
LP ever made.)
This is a song with an honest-to-God title, i.e. the words were
actually spoken by a living human being that you
know and I know and we'll say no more about it
except to note that this is not a work of fiction, merely of
embellishment,
as many better
men than I will confirm. ("Rick" is a clever pseudonym designed to
protect the good reputation of the
protagonist.)
There are lots of great sea songs around, some of them traditional and
some of them composed. My friend
Tom Goux is a great fan and performer of these songs, and has
introduced many folks to them in the course
of his career as solo musician and choral conductor.
It occurred to me at one point that the world of today's shipping
doesn't supply a lot of material for the
creation of new shanties - fortunately there are plenty of old ones
around. But I thought it might be fun to
try an "updated" shanty, more "relevant" to the 2008 sea-going
experience!
