Listen to Another One of My Tunes
August 21st, 2006 by Christine Kane
Okay, I think Web Guy and I have worked out the kinks on this blog-song-listening enterprise that Doug at Service Untitled unwittingly started. By the way, Doug wrote a lovely blog about my excellent customer service on this very issue. You can read it here.
(My record label is in a big old office building in downtown Asheville. After Doug’s posting, I tried to convince building management to give me a special parking space with a kicky little sign, but apparently blog-reviews don’t warrant special parking spaces with kicky little signs.)
Anyway, this song is called I’m With You. I wrote it for my brother. (Please let me know if you have any problems listening. You need Flash.) (Marty, click on the dark grey button that’s shaped like a crooked “Yield” sign just under the title line.)
Here’s how I’m different from many songwriters I know (besides getting write ups on my excellent customer service): When I sit down to write a song, I almost never have the idea or the hook or the magnetic headline in my head. Typically for me, an image comes along with a musical riff. You can hear that musical riff right up front in the beginning of this song (right after Dave Pomeroy’s awesome bass lick that made us both go, “Duuuuuude!” in the recording studio.)
Then, I sit there with the guitar, playing that riff, and letting go of my voices, my ego, and the part of me that thinks it’d be great to have a Britney Spears hit. After a little while, it’s just me and the music. (Whereas, if it were Britney, it’d be Me Against the Music.) And then the music kind of tells me what the song is about. In this case it was my brother. The words came slowly over time. And of course, I edit like a maniac.
This song was also the title song of the ballet that the North Carolina Dance Theatre choreographed to my music. I was on tour performing with them for six weeks this past spring. (I didn’t dance. I played my guitar. They danced. You can read a Washington Post review of the show here.)
The reason I’m posting it today is because my dad just got out of ICU. He had a stroke two weeks ago, and I flew up to be with him. I sat with him in ICU for many hours a day and into the night, mostly while he slept. Occasionally he would wake up and I’d play my guitar and sing to him.
One night I was doing a mini-concert for him because he was feeling uncomfortable. I began this song just as an ICU visitor stood out in the hall and pitched an almighty fit at the nurses. I couldn’t hear the details mostly because I was trying to cover up her shouting so that my dad wouldn’t wake up or hear the harshness.
So, my singing was soft at first and then the louder she screamed, the louder I sang. “In the streetlight, out from under shadows, I AM WAITING FOR YOU!” I couldn’t stop smiling at the sit-com-y-ness of it, with her shrieking and cussing in the background while I loudly sang, “I have wondered when the mystery will end and what the answers reveal.” But my dad had fallen asleep and didn’t wake up. (A big boost to my confidence level!) Slowly, an audience of visitors and nurses gathered outside the door and listened to me play. Lots of them were crying, and we all talked later in the hall. It was one of those magical moments that makes me really get why I write and play at all, and why I love music so much.
I hope you like the song. You can get it at iTunes by clicking here.
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August 21st, 2006 9:16 am
Thank you, thank you, thank you. It worked!
It’s a lovely song, and a lovely story, too. I have often thought that… sometimes, when you see a performer, you just *connect*, and you’re in the audience thinking, “We could be friends. I could have her over, and I know we’d be best friends. I *love* her!” I felt that the first time I saw you (can’t remember when that was — did you open for Dar Williams?), and with Dar, and Laurie Lewis, and when I saw Douglas Adams at a reading… Thank goodness, I live enough in reality to then not believe that you ARE my best friend, and start stalking you… but I did think about that feeling. What is that? I believe what it is, is that connection we *do* share. That you are doing exactly what you’re here on Earth to do, living from your spirit, and it is on that spiritual level that I experience the connection. Which I then translate into what I know, which is – “I should have her over for brownies!” Or, in the case of Ellis Paul – “We should get married!” lolol
Anyhow – your writing process seems to allow the music to come from that communal reality, from that deep connection… you let the music come, then let the music tell you what it has to tell you. It’s like you’re picking up on the energetic vibration of a person, or situation, and transposing it into music. And we all share that energy…
I have a feeling your father was finally relaxed enough, listening to your music, to allow himself to sleep deeply. I just bet it soothed his soul. It does mine.
Gassho -
August 21st, 2006 1:51 pm
Thanks Caren! And thanks for all the kind words to warm my heart! I remember seeing Mary Chapin Carpenter when I was in college, and I just wanted so much for HER to be my roommate. I know exactly what you’re talking about. I think it’s about someone showing you to yourself. And what it opens up is the parts of you that you love so much, but that you never let yourself recognize. does that make sense? Dar and I did a co-bill in Asheville last October. And I performed before she did at Folks Festival. But I don’t think I’ve ever opened for her. Maybe a long time ago??? She’s amazing, too. She breaks my heart wide open every time.
August 22nd, 2006 2:50 pm
Hey Christine, tell “Web Guy” that this song is working on my computer. I’m actually home this week so I’m using my parents’ computer which uses Windows XP. What a great song to sing to your dad and I’m so glad he’s out of the ICU! Your music touches a special chord in many and I’m sure it was very soothing for your father and others listening in the hospital.
While I’ve been home, I made a lot of my friends and family check out your blog and I’ve enjoyed watching the eyebrows rise up as they open your blog to your last post titled, “How to know if you’re a Hooker, and 11 ways to Quit.” At first they were wondering what I was getting them into (it gave me a little chuckle), but they quickly realized that you have a good sense of humor and that this was the last post in a great series.
August 24th, 2006 1:17 pm
Christine, I’m so glad to hear that your dad is out of ICU. I love the image of you singing to your dad while people are yelling out in the hall. It truly shows that we can choose how we deal with the major events in our lives.
mka
PS I mentioned you on my blog today.
January 11th, 2007 11:20 pm
I have been meaning to write you about this song and what it means to my family. My husband and I have seen you in concert 3-4 times and we have this CD. I’ve always enjoyed this song, but I don’t think it really stood out for me until this past June. Before going to the hospital to have our first baby, I made a couple of mixed CDs to use during labor. The one that was labeled “inspiring” had “I’m with you” on it. We hoped for a natural birth full of serenity and music, but things didn’t quite end up as planned. Everything was fine in the end, but they were worried about our daughter’s heartrate and ended up pulling her out with foreceps and rushing her off to another room to check her out before we could hold her or really even see her. We didn’t get to have that “baby on mother’s chest” bonding moment with just the 3 of us that we had imagined, and really didn’t have a time with the 3 of us alone together to bond until several hours later and a little sleep. I had asked my husband to turn some music on. We were all there together loving each other and gazing into our daughter Lucy’s perfect tiny face and it just so happened that “I’m with you” came on and all of a sudden we my husband and I both HEARD the words of your song with different ears. It is our fervent hope that, no matter what the world brings, Lucy will always know that we’re with her. We sat there and held her and just cried. And for awhile, every time I heard the song or even THOUGHT of the song I cried (the birth related hormones have settled enough that I now just get a little teary instead of full out sobbing). Now that Lucy is a healthy and happy 6 1/2 month old and we’re sleep deprived but loving life, we think so fondly of you and your music and its place in our hearts. I am just really grateful that you jumped off the corporate PR track and are making art instead (and I say that as a college professor who deals with so many status quo students all the time that it makes me crazy). Thanks for writing such a beautiful song. I wanted you to know what it meant to me and the rest of my little family of 3. Big love from Omaha, NE.
January 12th, 2007 6:54 am
Hi Sheri, Wow. What a great thing to read this morning. Now my eyes are all watery! I’m so glad to hear that Lucy is thriving. (and her parents too!) Maybe when I get to Omaha again, I’ll be able to meet her at a show or something! Many blessings to the three of you (and any dogs or cats you might have!) and thanks for taking the time to write…
March 3rd, 2007 7:01 pm
Came first through Carnival of Courage, and now just to spend some time. I’ll more familiar with ICUs than I’d like to be, so it’s all very easy to picture. Great song. Love your voice. Hope your dad is kicking up his heals and this has all become a distant memory.
March 6th, 2007 8:19 am
[...] A few weeks ago, I was emailing with a well-known author and speaker. At the end of our exchange, she wrote that she had “added me to her prayer list.” She wrote what she would pray for, and what she was affirming for me (as well as for my dad, who has been in the hospital). I was on the road in the lobby of a hotel when I read her email. Instantly I was filled with a deep peace and gratitude to know that I was being included in this amazing woman’s prayers. [...]
June 11th, 2007 12:05 am
[...] She wrote what she would pray for, and what she was affirming for me (as well as for my dad, who had been in the hospital). I was in the lobby of a hotel when I read her email. Instantly, I was filled with a deep peace [...]