NOTE: BEFORE PUSHING "PLAY" ON THE VIDEO ABOVE, TURN OFF THE MUSIC BY SCROLLING DOWN A BIT AND PUSHING THE PAUSE BUTTON ON THE PLAYER LOCATED ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE BLOG.
"Gypsy City" is a lopsided musical collaboration between myself and Michael Fotheringham, Michael having composed the lyrics while I contributed the melody. I describe the project as lopsided because the magic of the song stems significantly more from the lyrics than it does from the melody.
Far from surprising, I'm not alone in that observation as I have shared the video of the song with numerous friends, family members, former students and associates, almost all of whom have responded with comments ranging from "Wow!" to "The song is amazing." When pressed, however, with "What did you like about the song?" invariably, their responses were akin to "The lyrics are fantastic," to which I smiled and replied, "I know."
Michael and I, whose acquaintanceship goes back some three decades with a hiatus of some three decades minus one year, a school year, to be more precise, during which Michael was a student in one of my ninth-grade English classes at Evergreen Junior High school, as were pretty much all of his siblings. And what a distinctive clan the Fotheringhams were (still are), not only in their abilities and talents but also in their number. You've heard of the '70's sitcom, "Eight is Enough"? Well, at an appropriate point in their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Fotheringham must have made a similar comment to each other as they produced eight amazing children, all of whom, each in their own time, trotted through the public school system, stopping for the duration of their ninth grade year at room 210, where I had the privilege of mentoring them in all the usual aspects of writing and the appreciation of literature.
Interestingly, over the years, there were a number of sibling dynasties which resided within the boundaries of Evergreen Junior High, each sibling of which having made similar stops at room 210, and each dynasty consisting of siblings remarkably similar in some respects and remarkably diverse from each other in other respects, which, of course, is at it should be.
My friendship (retrospectively, I describe all of my former students as "old friends") with Michael resumed about a year ago when one of his talented sisters, Katie, who somehow stumbled upon my art blog, left a comment that went something like, "Is that you, Mr. Mathis?" to which I replied with something like, "Of course it is." Early on in that blogspot reunion, she suggested that I check out the blogs of two of her brothers, Mark and Michael, remarking rather emphatically that she was certain that I would be amazed at what talented writers they had become. So I did and I was.
I can't say that I was all that surprised as I perused their blogs since one of the recollections I have about the Fotheringham Clan has to do with their precocious proficiency at writing--even at the tender age of 15, but I can definitely say that I was delighted at the opportunity to see how refined their talent had become and what insightful and interesting writers they were, despite the fact that their styles and personas were very different from each other, which, of course, is as it should be.
Having been so delightfully impressed with their blogs, both of which consisted mostly of short essays and poems, I began to make routine excursions to their sites, excited each time I discovered new entries to savor.
And what fun we have had, sharing our poetry with each other, challenging each other to try our pens, composing various forms of traditional and not-so-traditional poetry, ranging from free verse and sonnets to rondeaus and haikus. In fact, during one of those challenges, Michael managed to create a new form of poetry, consisting of six haiku stanzas, which collectively tell a story or elaborate a particular topic. I dubbed his creation the "haiku sestina," although Michael, much more interestingly refers to his creations as "Sapporo Sixpacks."
Although I've been writing prose and poetry for most of my life, I have also savored a passion for songwriting--just another kind of poetry, actually, with an emphasis on lyricism and rhythm. Following the posting of one of my songs, Michael commented that he was envious of my ability to write songs, to which I responded with something like "Writing songs is a very short stretch from writing poetry, both of which were meant to be heard aloud--needed to be heard out loud, actually," and so I suggested that he get his song-writing feet wet by collaborating with me. His contribution would be the lyrics and mine would be the tune.
Well, in typical Fotheringham form, it didn't take him long to respond to the challenge by forwarding me the lyrics to "Gypsy City." In short, I was blown away by their power--Michael's first attempt at writing lyrics no less! In fact, I was a bit worried as to whether I could come up with a tune that would do justice to his lyrics. But I gave it a shot, the result of which is memorialized in the video above.
As I have already commented, I don't think the tune rises to the majesty of Michael's lyrics, but I'm anxious to give it another shot--see if I can do better the second time around. So, Michael, get out your magic pen and write some more incredible lyrics. I'll see if I can step it up a little bit and compose a tune that comes closer to doing justice to them. And, by the way, your fans are eagerly awaiting your next composition. I've had numerous inquiries as to whether you have written any other song lyrics. One of my long-time friends and work associates, a Bulgarian named Ilia Iliev (the marketing director at one of my companies) was so enthralled with your writing that he googled your name and surfed the Internet in search of more samples of your writing. And he reported his excitement to me when, completely without my assistance, he discovered your blog site, "The Hermit Empire."
I don't know that Lennon and McCartney or Rogers and Hammerstein have too much to worry about, although you never know. The most important thing is to have some fun expressing our creative selves, and if we are fortunate in that endeavor, we may discover that the power of two is often greater than the sum of two. I'll end this entry with a simple and sincere "Congratulations, Michael. Your song "Gypsy City" is pretty damn good if I do say so myself."
2 comments:
I passed this on to the family and they are all very grateful for your kind words. We are very fortunate to be so close in spirit as we are so very far away from one another physically. I am truly touched by all the effort you've put into our collaboration and feel that you really deserve the lions share of praise for any finished product. My ego has been exceptionally boosted to the point where I'm afraid to tempt fate once more with a flip side to the single. Maybe you should throw me a subject and I'll see if it percolates a response.
One never "tempts fate" by expressing one's self creatively. Dive deep enough into the (bottomless) pool of imagination and the result will always amazing. Paddle around in the shallow end of that pool and the result will be, well, mundane.
The only thing one has to fear when it comes to creativity is the tendency not to let go, not to dive as deeply as one can, not to trust one's creative instincts. We tend to hang on to the edge of what we perceive reality more than is necessary. For what it's worth, I believe that we are not the masters of our imagination. We are desciples of it. Unlike religion, however, it does not command worship--only that we believe, which is sometimes hard to do, especially when reality slaps us in the face as it does on occasion, but nonetheless, it is important to believe, first in ourselves and then in whatever floats your boat--although one should avoid the complacency of staying inside any particular boat without peering over the side. There are thousands of boats in the sea. I love boats, like to try out as many as I can.
No worries for you, Tigre. You are a deep diver. When you feel like diving from the bow of your boat, you will. It's important, however, that you decide where and when to dive, not me. Dive deeply though, and never fear deep water.
I like your perculation metaphor. Perculating is good. A good cup of poetry (or a good song) must be brewed to perfection. No easy way to brew a good cup of anything brewable--and stay away from the instant stuff. It does nothing for the taste buds or any of the other senses.
When you have a cup of something for me, just let me know.
Post a Comment