Your belly in my arms- The Felice Brothers

We'd watch the shapes the rain would make
Falling down the window of our bus
I said they reminded me of paper ponies blowing free
You said they reminded you of us

Your belly in my arms
Tomorrow we'll be through these rains and gone

Woke up with the driver crying Birmingham
Looked through the glass and found the morning sky
I said that cloud's shaped like a burning man
You didn't have the heart to tell me why

Your belly in my arms
Tomorrow we'll be through these clouds and gone

I put my hand inside your skirt
And asked if you thought that our babies life would turn out this way
You said you wasn't really sure
But really you was too good to say it

Your belly in my arms
Tomorrow we'll be through these rains and gone
Your belly in my arms
Tomorrow we'll be through these gates and gone

Lyle Lovett and Townes Van Zandt

Step Inside This House is a double album recorded by Lyle Lovett and released in 1998. In contrast with his earlier albums, which contained mostly Lovett originals, House is a double-length album of cover songs written by fellow Texans.

In choosing songs to record, Lovett favored songwriters whose works influenced his own style. The writers selected include Robert Earl Keen, Michael Martin Murphey, Willis Alan Ramsey, and Guy Clark. The second disc is largely dedicated to songs written by Townes Van Zandt and Walter Hyatt, with the final track being a traditional piece.

Lovett takes each of these tunes and through a deep and thorough respect for them and with his beautifully expressive voice, makes each his own. Particularly striking to me are the Townes Van Zandt covers, three of which are below. Beautiful.

Flyin' Shoes


Highway Kind


If I Needed You

Abigail Washburn & The Sparrow Quartet

Abigail Washburn was supposed to be a lawyer by now. But a banjo and study in China got in her way. The banjo led her to music of Appalachia, which (coupled with her love of the language and people of China) eventually spurred her to take a group of American musicians to Asia for informal musical cultural exchanges. Washburn assembled the Sparrow Quartet as a way to share traditional acoustic music across cultures, coming together with common sounds and learning tunes from new friends.


Although the Sparrow Quartet is Washburn's baby, the other musicians involved in the project are no less accomplished. And, in the case of banjo master Bela Fleck, I'm sure she'll agree, even more. Fleck has played alongside all of the big names in the roots music business – jazz and classical-crossover as well, he's won 7 Grammys with, among others, Joshua Bell, Edgar Meyer, Alison Brown and his own band, the Flecktones. Fiddler Casey Driessen and cello player Ben Sollee haven't started racking up the Grammys yet, but just give them time (Driessen's nominated this year for his CD 3D, so this may, in fact, be his year).

Uncover our heads and reveal our souls - Fever Ray

Memory comes when memory’s old

I am never the first to know
Following the stream up North
Where do people like us float

There is room in my lap
For bruises, asses, handclaps
I will never disappear
For forever, I’ll be here

Whispering
Morning, keep the streets empty for me
Morning, keep the streets empty for me

I’m laying down eating snow
My fur is hot, my tongue is cold
On a bed of spider web
I think of how to change myself

A lot of hope in a one man tent
There’s no room for innocence
Take me home before the storm
Velvet moths will keep us warm

Whispering
Morning, keep the streets empty for me
Morning, keep the streets empty for me

Morning, keep the streets empty for me
Morning, keep the streets empty for me

Uncover our heads and reveal our souls
We were hungry before we were born

Uncover our heads and reveal our souls
We were hungry before we were born

And do the angels really grieve

Chris Smither






Forms are loosely fitting
Jury still are sitting
Sense of duty keeps us all in motion
Prison sirens wailing
That security is failing
Do not inspire a lifetime of devotion
No one will sympathize
No one really tries
They need a faith that leads them like a drum
And I can hear it pounding down among the ruins
Sad to say, I don't think I'm the only one.



I awoke and someone spoke
They asked me in a whisper
If all my dreams and visions had been answered
And I don't know what to say
I never even pray
I just feel the pulse of universal dancers
They'll waltz me till I die
They'll never tell me why
I never stop to ask them where we're going
Yes, but the holy, the profane
Are all helplessly insane
Wishful, hopeful, never even knowing.



And they asked if I believe
And do the angels really grieve
Or is it all a comforting invention?
It's just like gravity, I said
It's not a product of my head
It doesn't speak, but nonetheless commands attention
And I don't care what it means
Or who decorates the scenes
The problem is more with my sense of pride
Because it keeps me thinking "me"
Instead of what it is to be
I'm not a passenger, I am the ride
I'm not a passenger

I am the ride

Mike Seeger (August 15, 1933 – August 7, 2009

"Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming 'Wow What a Ride'" 

 - Hunter S. Thompson

RIP

Mike Seeger (August 15, 1933 – August 7, 2009)

 “Mike [Seeger] was unprecedented. He was like a duke, the knight errant. As for being a folk musician, he was the supreme archetype. … He played on all the various planes, the full index of the old-time styles, played in all the genres and had the idioms mastered — Delta blues, ragtime, minstrel songs, buck-and-wing, dance reels, play party, hymns and gospel — being there and seeing him up close, something hit me. It’s not as if he just played everything well, he played these songs as good as it was possible to play them. … The thought occurred to me that maybe I’d have to write my own folk songs, ones that Mike didn’t know.”

-Bob Dylan

Dreams

“Hold fast to dreams, For if dreams die, Life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly, Hold fast to dreams, For if dreams go, Life is a barren field, Frozen with snow”

- Langston Hughes

Jakob Dylan comments on some of his music