'Another Country' Lyrics and Song-stories
Frontier (words and music: Jamie Field)
In my heart and in my dreams
I move through an America
Learnt from the silver screen
Under rain and under sun
I travel on the frontier
To find out how the west was won
Close your eyes, close your eyes, close your eyes,
Close your eyes, close your eyes, close your eyes.
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
frontier n. 1 a the border between two countries. b the district on each side of this. ...3 (in the US) the borders between settled and unsettled country.
I move through an America
Learnt from the silver screen
Under rain and under sun
I travel on the frontier
To find out how the west was won
Close your eyes, close your eyes, close your eyes,
Close your eyes, close your eyes, close your eyes.
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
frontier n. 1 a the border between two countries. b the district on each side of this. ...3 (in the US) the borders between settled and unsettled country.
Circles Of Fire (words and music: Jamie Field)
What more can I do?
What can I say?
The girl with the world at her feet,
Kicked it away
And you move in circles of fire
You move in circles of fire
You move in circles of fire
I've seen you dance in the flames...
So what is it like?
This place of your own?
Holding the key to your heart,
When nobody's home.
And you move in circles of fire
You move in circles of fire
You move in circles of fire
I've seen you dance in the flames...
Here we go,
Fingers crossed one more time guess it's for show
And oh you are so naive.
Believe what you want to believe.
You were the dream
The girl to go far
But the girl with the dream lost her way
Left behind bars
And you move in circles of fire
You move in circles of fire
You move in circles of fire
I've seen you dance in the flames...
Here we go,
Fingers crossed one more time guess it's for show
And oh you are so naive.
Believe what you want to believe.
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
'Circles of Fire' reflects how easily dreams and expectations can become disappointments, especially if friends aren't chosen wisely and one ends up moving in the wrong circles.
Evelyn, Jamie and Andy originally recorded Circles Of Fire with Nigel Hooton on lead guitar back in the winter of 2003/2004, but decided that recording was done at too slow a tempo, so it was shelved. It's in the archives up at the Goatshed.
This new recording is different in many ways; stripped back and closely reflecting the arrangement we used when performing the song live.
The song was released as a download 'single' on March 26th 2012.
What can I say?
The girl with the world at her feet,
Kicked it away
And you move in circles of fire
You move in circles of fire
You move in circles of fire
I've seen you dance in the flames...
So what is it like?
This place of your own?
Holding the key to your heart,
When nobody's home.
And you move in circles of fire
You move in circles of fire
You move in circles of fire
I've seen you dance in the flames...
Here we go,
Fingers crossed one more time guess it's for show
And oh you are so naive.
Believe what you want to believe.
You were the dream
The girl to go far
But the girl with the dream lost her way
Left behind bars
And you move in circles of fire
You move in circles of fire
You move in circles of fire
I've seen you dance in the flames...
Here we go,
Fingers crossed one more time guess it's for show
And oh you are so naive.
Believe what you want to believe.
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
'Circles of Fire' reflects how easily dreams and expectations can become disappointments, especially if friends aren't chosen wisely and one ends up moving in the wrong circles.
Evelyn, Jamie and Andy originally recorded Circles Of Fire with Nigel Hooton on lead guitar back in the winter of 2003/2004, but decided that recording was done at too slow a tempo, so it was shelved. It's in the archives up at the Goatshed.
This new recording is different in many ways; stripped back and closely reflecting the arrangement we used when performing the song live.
The song was released as a download 'single' on March 26th 2012.
Interlude No.1 for Cor Anglais and Piano: The Appalachian Mountains (music: Wendy Marks & Colin Henney)
Copyright © Wendy Marks & Colin Henney 2012. All rights reserved.
The first of three haunting instrumentals improvised by Wendy and Colin, inspired by American composers and using musical themes from the album.
The first of three haunting instrumentals improvised by Wendy and Colin, inspired by American composers and using musical themes from the album.
Dust Bowl Bride (words and music: Jamie Field)
Pity the girl, who marries the man
Who’s handsome, its true, but is wed to his land
Picture the girl, she’s just seventeen,
Pretty as sunrise, the tumbleweed queen
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
There’s news on the wire, there are words in the wind,
That a darkness is coming that’s darker than sin.
Black clouds are gathering, beginning to spin,
Electricity flickers and charges her skin.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
So let’s get this straight, is it madness or fate?
That drives the girl onwards that so dominates,
There’s no grain in the store, no food on her plate,
But leaving is something she won’t contemplate.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
And this charming young girl, in the sad dishcloth dress
Is still trying to claw her way out of this mess,
She’s been left on her own, but this Okie princess,
Won’t admit failure she won’t acquiesce.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
Dust Bowl Bride was one of the earliest songs I started writing for the American Images project, and wound up as one the very last to be finished.
For a long time we were quite happy with it as a song, but then, as sometimes happens, little doubts crept in - about the smallest of things, a bar here, a word or two there…. Over a period of time I rewrote the chorus. Then I rewrote one of the verses. I rewrote another of the verses. I rewrote the chorus again. It gets to the point where you realise that, basically, it isn’t going to work. With all the re-writes, I’d lost the thread, the feel for the piece.
I happened to mention this in an exchange of emails I had with one of our MK friends, Bill Bemke from Weehawken, New Jersey, who’d sent in some photos for the project. A fortnight later a large parcel arrived from States. Bill had sent an encouraging letter along with books, photos, magazine articles and DVDs all relating to the Dust Bowl era. I spent two weeks immersing myself in this material, and then sat down and rewrote Dust Bowl Bride from scratch – it’s a totally different song from any of the previous versions – the only thing it’s kept is the title.
The American Dust Bowl is one of the most extraordinary events in US history – a cataclysmic disaster on a monstrous scale. And yet it’s also a disaster that’s largely forgotten – from speaking with many American friends, the history of it is all a bit hazy, something they weren’t taught about at school.
The fact it took place a very long way from the seat of Government no doubt played its part – the reality of life on the ground further west, the desperation experienced, was far removed from day to day life in Washington DC, and unlike today when events such as Katrina and 9/11 are beamed into homes all over the nation, indeed all over the world, the tragedy of the Dust Bowl barely warranted a mention on the inside pages of the East Coast newspapers of the time. It was the depression era and they had other fish to fry.
Indeed, it’s quite possible that ‘nothing would have continued to be the response had not one of the most disastrous storms, known as the Black Sunday storm of April 14th 1935, reached the East Coast, bringing the problem forcefully and directly to their doorstep. (It was a day after this storm that a reporter used the term ‘dust bowl’ for the first time.)
Although much has been written, both fact and fiction, about those who fled the land during the Dust Bowl – most notably John Steinbeck’s ‘The Grapes Of Wrath’ – oddly the stories of those who stayed have remained largely unheard until quite recently, most notably in the book “The Worst Hard Time – The Untold Story Of Those Who Survived The American Dust Bowl” by Tim Egan – it’s haunting, dramatic and heart-wrenching - an absolutely riveting read.
Trying to capture the whole history of those years in one short song would be futile, so instead the song Dust Bowl Bride follows the experiences of one person (she’s not named in the song, though we know her as Amberleen). I wanted to keep the music sparse and low-key to reflect the mood and feel of the time. I also used a relatively unusual tuning for the guitar: DADGGD which I got from Katie Belcher (aka Caitie Belesur).
Without Mr Bemke’s generosity and encouragement, this song simply wouldn’t exist – so this one’s for you, Bill.
Who’s handsome, its true, but is wed to his land
Picture the girl, she’s just seventeen,
Pretty as sunrise, the tumbleweed queen
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
There’s news on the wire, there are words in the wind,
That a darkness is coming that’s darker than sin.
Black clouds are gathering, beginning to spin,
Electricity flickers and charges her skin.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
So let’s get this straight, is it madness or fate?
That drives the girl onwards that so dominates,
There’s no grain in the store, no food on her plate,
But leaving is something she won’t contemplate.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
And this charming young girl, in the sad dishcloth dress
Is still trying to claw her way out of this mess,
She’s been left on her own, but this Okie princess,
Won’t admit failure she won’t acquiesce.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
She’s a dust…. Dust bowl bride.
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
Dust Bowl Bride was one of the earliest songs I started writing for the American Images project, and wound up as one the very last to be finished.
For a long time we were quite happy with it as a song, but then, as sometimes happens, little doubts crept in - about the smallest of things, a bar here, a word or two there…. Over a period of time I rewrote the chorus. Then I rewrote one of the verses. I rewrote another of the verses. I rewrote the chorus again. It gets to the point where you realise that, basically, it isn’t going to work. With all the re-writes, I’d lost the thread, the feel for the piece.
I happened to mention this in an exchange of emails I had with one of our MK friends, Bill Bemke from Weehawken, New Jersey, who’d sent in some photos for the project. A fortnight later a large parcel arrived from States. Bill had sent an encouraging letter along with books, photos, magazine articles and DVDs all relating to the Dust Bowl era. I spent two weeks immersing myself in this material, and then sat down and rewrote Dust Bowl Bride from scratch – it’s a totally different song from any of the previous versions – the only thing it’s kept is the title.
The American Dust Bowl is one of the most extraordinary events in US history – a cataclysmic disaster on a monstrous scale. And yet it’s also a disaster that’s largely forgotten – from speaking with many American friends, the history of it is all a bit hazy, something they weren’t taught about at school.
The fact it took place a very long way from the seat of Government no doubt played its part – the reality of life on the ground further west, the desperation experienced, was far removed from day to day life in Washington DC, and unlike today when events such as Katrina and 9/11 are beamed into homes all over the nation, indeed all over the world, the tragedy of the Dust Bowl barely warranted a mention on the inside pages of the East Coast newspapers of the time. It was the depression era and they had other fish to fry.
Indeed, it’s quite possible that ‘nothing would have continued to be the response had not one of the most disastrous storms, known as the Black Sunday storm of April 14th 1935, reached the East Coast, bringing the problem forcefully and directly to their doorstep. (It was a day after this storm that a reporter used the term ‘dust bowl’ for the first time.)
Although much has been written, both fact and fiction, about those who fled the land during the Dust Bowl – most notably John Steinbeck’s ‘The Grapes Of Wrath’ – oddly the stories of those who stayed have remained largely unheard until quite recently, most notably in the book “The Worst Hard Time – The Untold Story Of Those Who Survived The American Dust Bowl” by Tim Egan – it’s haunting, dramatic and heart-wrenching - an absolutely riveting read.
Trying to capture the whole history of those years in one short song would be futile, so instead the song Dust Bowl Bride follows the experiences of one person (she’s not named in the song, though we know her as Amberleen). I wanted to keep the music sparse and low-key to reflect the mood and feel of the time. I also used a relatively unusual tuning for the guitar: DADGGD which I got from Katie Belcher (aka Caitie Belesur).
Without Mr Bemke’s generosity and encouragement, this song simply wouldn’t exist – so this one’s for you, Bill.
Rhonda and the Paper Crane (words and music: Jamie Field)
Down at The Waterfront, the fly girls tilt and dance the night away,
While Rhonda folds a paper crane, and hopes it’s not too late to save the day.
And in the background on the TV, is the face of JFK,
But no-one’s paying much attention and someone says “Where’s Cuba anyway?”
Rhonda counted stars that night and wished upon the one furthest away
Down at the water’s edge, she answered to the river’s pull and sway.
No-one noticed she was missing, everyone’s afraid they’ll get the blame,
No-one wants to take the fall out for just another teenage runaway
Float down the river around the bend,
Float down the river around the bend,
(Oh, where are all my friends.)
Her mother puts a bright light in the window, but the candle burnt away,
And her friends began to realize they didn’t really know her anyway.
Someone says she’s gone to California, to seek her fortune in L.A,
But Sheriff Wright’s of the opinion that it’s just some kind of schoolgirl escapade.
Float down the river around the bend,
Float down the river around the bend,
(Oh, where are all my friends.)
Rhonda kept her bedroom door locked, she kept her secrets hid away,
And when they finally broke the door down, they found a thousand paper cranes.
Float down the river around the bend,
Float down the river around the bend,
(Oh, where are all my friends.)
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
‘Rhonda and The Paper Crane’ has its genesis in a completely different piece. I was writing a song called ‘Brighter Than The Sun’ about the dropping of an atomic bomb on Hiroshima on 6th August. During my reading for this I came upon the story of Sadako Sasaki, a Japanese girl who lived near Misasa Bridge in Hiroshima, and who was only two years old when the atomic bomb was dropped on her city. She was hospitalised in January 1955 with leukemia, a direct result of the bombing.
On August 3, 1955, the hospital was sent a gift of one thousand origami paper cranes donated by the people of Nagoya as a "Get Well" gift. Inspired by the cranes, Sadako started folding some herself spurred on by the Japanese saying that one who folded a thousand cranes was granted a wish. Though she had plenty of free time during her days in the hospital to fold the cranes, she lacked paper. She would use medicine wrappings and whatever else she could scrounge up.
A popular version of the story is that she fell short of her goal, having folded only 644 before her death on October 25th 1955, and that her friends completed the 1,000 and buried them all with her.
Sadako has become a leading symbol of the impact of a nuclear war, and is a heroine for many young girls in Japan.
I didn’t complete the writing of ‘Brighter Than The Sun’ realising that it didn’t really fit within the scope of American Images, but I couldn’t get the story of Sadako and the paper cranes, out of my head.
It was in the early autumn of 1962, with the advent of the Cuban Missile Crisis, that the United States came closest to experiencing what it must have been like in Hiroshima on that clear August day in 1945.
In her book: “Awaiting Armageddon: How Americans Faced the Cuban Missile Crisis.” Alice L. George tells of how U.S. citizens absorbed the nightmare scenario unfolding on their television sets. An estimated ten million Americans fled their homes; millions more prepared shelters at home, clearing the shelves of supermarkets and gun stores.
And of course much of that fear was fueled by the fact that Americans now knew exactly what the consequences of nuclear war were, they’d seen it when they’d destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Rhonda and the Paper Crane is set in small US town in October 1962 and is about the response of a teenage girl to the unfolding crisis.
The ‘newsreader’ on the track is M.J. Gray, a native of Kentucky but now living in the NW of the UK.
While Rhonda folds a paper crane, and hopes it’s not too late to save the day.
And in the background on the TV, is the face of JFK,
But no-one’s paying much attention and someone says “Where’s Cuba anyway?”
Rhonda counted stars that night and wished upon the one furthest away
Down at the water’s edge, she answered to the river’s pull and sway.
No-one noticed she was missing, everyone’s afraid they’ll get the blame,
No-one wants to take the fall out for just another teenage runaway
Float down the river around the bend,
Float down the river around the bend,
(Oh, where are all my friends.)
Her mother puts a bright light in the window, but the candle burnt away,
And her friends began to realize they didn’t really know her anyway.
Someone says she’s gone to California, to seek her fortune in L.A,
But Sheriff Wright’s of the opinion that it’s just some kind of schoolgirl escapade.
Float down the river around the bend,
Float down the river around the bend,
(Oh, where are all my friends.)
Rhonda kept her bedroom door locked, she kept her secrets hid away,
And when they finally broke the door down, they found a thousand paper cranes.
Float down the river around the bend,
Float down the river around the bend,
(Oh, where are all my friends.)
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
‘Rhonda and The Paper Crane’ has its genesis in a completely different piece. I was writing a song called ‘Brighter Than The Sun’ about the dropping of an atomic bomb on Hiroshima on 6th August. During my reading for this I came upon the story of Sadako Sasaki, a Japanese girl who lived near Misasa Bridge in Hiroshima, and who was only two years old when the atomic bomb was dropped on her city. She was hospitalised in January 1955 with leukemia, a direct result of the bombing.
On August 3, 1955, the hospital was sent a gift of one thousand origami paper cranes donated by the people of Nagoya as a "Get Well" gift. Inspired by the cranes, Sadako started folding some herself spurred on by the Japanese saying that one who folded a thousand cranes was granted a wish. Though she had plenty of free time during her days in the hospital to fold the cranes, she lacked paper. She would use medicine wrappings and whatever else she could scrounge up.
A popular version of the story is that she fell short of her goal, having folded only 644 before her death on October 25th 1955, and that her friends completed the 1,000 and buried them all with her.
Sadako has become a leading symbol of the impact of a nuclear war, and is a heroine for many young girls in Japan.
I didn’t complete the writing of ‘Brighter Than The Sun’ realising that it didn’t really fit within the scope of American Images, but I couldn’t get the story of Sadako and the paper cranes, out of my head.
It was in the early autumn of 1962, with the advent of the Cuban Missile Crisis, that the United States came closest to experiencing what it must have been like in Hiroshima on that clear August day in 1945.
In her book: “Awaiting Armageddon: How Americans Faced the Cuban Missile Crisis.” Alice L. George tells of how U.S. citizens absorbed the nightmare scenario unfolding on their television sets. An estimated ten million Americans fled their homes; millions more prepared shelters at home, clearing the shelves of supermarkets and gun stores.
And of course much of that fear was fueled by the fact that Americans now knew exactly what the consequences of nuclear war were, they’d seen it when they’d destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Rhonda and the Paper Crane is set in small US town in October 1962 and is about the response of a teenage girl to the unfolding crisis.
The ‘newsreader’ on the track is M.J. Gray, a native of Kentucky but now living in the NW of the UK.
Interlude No.2 for Cor Anglais and Piano: The Allegheny Mountains (music: Wendy Marks & Colin Henney)
Copyright © Wendy Marks & Colin Henney 2012. All rights reserved.
The second of three haunting instrumentals improvised by Wendy and Colin, inspired by American composers and using musical themes from the album.
The second of three haunting instrumentals improvised by Wendy and Colin, inspired by American composers and using musical themes from the album.
L.A. Aria (words and music: Jamie Field)
In this City Of Angels how come no-one has wings?
Is it beauty’s obsession with nothing deeper than skin?
And out on the boardwalk, the dream-girls parade up and down,
But you, you move like a river, you don't make a sound.
In this City of Angels so few make the screen,
But there’s always somebody prepared to offer that dream
And somewhere in casting, the blonde girls go down on their knees
But you, you’re strong like a river, ou’ve no-one to please
Under the spotlight, camera’s roll,
Rock and roll, in the limelight,
Hold that smile, Romeo, oh Romeo,
Do you love me?
In this City of Angels you can live among stars
It’s ‘Say hi to Joni’ and everyone plays the guitar,
Everything’s scripted and they’ve all got a word-perfect part
But you, you’re deep as a river, it comes from the heart
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
L.A. Aria has been through more time warps than the StarShip Enterprise! I wrote it in 3:4. We tried it briefly in 4:4. Then we recorded a version at the GoatShed with the whole song in 5:4. Finally we reverted to the original 3:4 where the song, to me anyway, always felt happiest – though we have kept the bridge in 5:4. Looking back, I’m wondering why we didn’t try it in 13:8 – or maybe we did!
It’s one the earliest songs written for the project – second I think, after ‘This Trail Of Tears.’
The subject of the song does not cover any new ground – the lure of Hollywood on naïve country girls who find a rude awakening on the West Coast, together with the triumph of superficiality over substance that is Los Angeles.
For every wannabe who does succeed there are tens of thousands who don’t make it, and many of these fall prey to the sharks who feed in the waters of that disappointment.
The song is not, however totally bleak. The narrator, or ‘observer’ in this piece, hints that there is someone who rises above it above all, who is true to herself and isn’t prepared to play, the Hollywood game. Someone, therefore, who stands out from the crowd.
Is it beauty’s obsession with nothing deeper than skin?
And out on the boardwalk, the dream-girls parade up and down,
But you, you move like a river, you don't make a sound.
In this City of Angels so few make the screen,
But there’s always somebody prepared to offer that dream
And somewhere in casting, the blonde girls go down on their knees
But you, you’re strong like a river, ou’ve no-one to please
Under the spotlight, camera’s roll,
Rock and roll, in the limelight,
Hold that smile, Romeo, oh Romeo,
Do you love me?
In this City of Angels you can live among stars
It’s ‘Say hi to Joni’ and everyone plays the guitar,
Everything’s scripted and they’ve all got a word-perfect part
But you, you’re deep as a river, it comes from the heart
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
L.A. Aria has been through more time warps than the StarShip Enterprise! I wrote it in 3:4. We tried it briefly in 4:4. Then we recorded a version at the GoatShed with the whole song in 5:4. Finally we reverted to the original 3:4 where the song, to me anyway, always felt happiest – though we have kept the bridge in 5:4. Looking back, I’m wondering why we didn’t try it in 13:8 – or maybe we did!
It’s one the earliest songs written for the project – second I think, after ‘This Trail Of Tears.’
The subject of the song does not cover any new ground – the lure of Hollywood on naïve country girls who find a rude awakening on the West Coast, together with the triumph of superficiality over substance that is Los Angeles.
For every wannabe who does succeed there are tens of thousands who don’t make it, and many of these fall prey to the sharks who feed in the waters of that disappointment.
The song is not, however totally bleak. The narrator, or ‘observer’ in this piece, hints that there is someone who rises above it above all, who is true to herself and isn’t prepared to play, the Hollywood game. Someone, therefore, who stands out from the crowd.
The Scissored Ground (words: Rachel Schroeder. music: Jamie Field)
We could be safe
In what we've found
A clean cut hole
In the scissored ground
Where shards of grass
And pulled weeds grow
Between the cracks
And far below.
And see I know this cave is a long way down
We've crawled and crawled and we've lost and found
There's nothing more that can be missed
Til the sky is covered and this hole is fixed
Copyright © Rachel Schroeder & Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
One of the poems we received in response to our newsletter request for items was a short poem called ‘The Scissored Ground’ written by Rachel Schroeder who lives in Hendersonville, Tennessee.
At the time the poem arrived, in February 2008, I was reading a book called “Storm Warning” by Nancy Mathis about the tornados that hit Oklahoma on May 3rd 1999, one of which was a mile wide with winds of over 300mph, the fastest ever recorded. Although the poem came with no explanation of what it was about or what inspired it, I, no doubt heavily influenced by what I had just been reading, imagined it as being written from the perspective of a child feeling relatively safe in a storm-shelter while a tornado wreaks havoc outside. The words have a beautiful simplicity and a dream-like quality.
Rachel confirms that she has witnessed a tornado. Although Tennessee is relatively low on the list of states at risk having on average just 12 annually, the Hendersonville area was hit by an F3 tornado on 7th April 2006.
“… the tornado continued into Sumner County just north of Hendersonville. It damaged numerous houses in that area before entering and devastating Gallatin with F3 damage at about 2:30 pm CDT. Several entire subdivisions, primarily along the north shore of Old Hickory Lake were destroyed or flattened, killing nine people and injuring 121. Over 700 houses were damaged or destroyed, including about 80 in Hendersonville.” (Wikipedia)
The music for The Scissored Ground was written on the 25th February 2008. It uses an EADGAD tuning.
In what we've found
A clean cut hole
In the scissored ground
Where shards of grass
And pulled weeds grow
Between the cracks
And far below.
And see I know this cave is a long way down
We've crawled and crawled and we've lost and found
There's nothing more that can be missed
Til the sky is covered and this hole is fixed
Copyright © Rachel Schroeder & Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
One of the poems we received in response to our newsletter request for items was a short poem called ‘The Scissored Ground’ written by Rachel Schroeder who lives in Hendersonville, Tennessee.
At the time the poem arrived, in February 2008, I was reading a book called “Storm Warning” by Nancy Mathis about the tornados that hit Oklahoma on May 3rd 1999, one of which was a mile wide with winds of over 300mph, the fastest ever recorded. Although the poem came with no explanation of what it was about or what inspired it, I, no doubt heavily influenced by what I had just been reading, imagined it as being written from the perspective of a child feeling relatively safe in a storm-shelter while a tornado wreaks havoc outside. The words have a beautiful simplicity and a dream-like quality.
Rachel confirms that she has witnessed a tornado. Although Tennessee is relatively low on the list of states at risk having on average just 12 annually, the Hendersonville area was hit by an F3 tornado on 7th April 2006.
“… the tornado continued into Sumner County just north of Hendersonville. It damaged numerous houses in that area before entering and devastating Gallatin with F3 damage at about 2:30 pm CDT. Several entire subdivisions, primarily along the north shore of Old Hickory Lake were destroyed or flattened, killing nine people and injuring 121. Over 700 houses were damaged or destroyed, including about 80 in Hendersonville.” (Wikipedia)
The music for The Scissored Ground was written on the 25th February 2008. It uses an EADGAD tuning.
Ghost Rider (words and music: Jamie Field)
They say that you’re pretty, and that you always dress in black
You’ve got a rifle at your shoulder and a monkey on your back
They say you’re meaner than winter, with the devil’s heart and mind
But all is fair in love and war as you cross each borderline.
And down in the valley she’s watching and waiting
A girl with a dream that she hopes will come true
On the sky-wide horizon, a cowboy is riding
Should he have told her he’s just passing through
They say you never ask questions, that you don’t have a name
They say you never feel pleasure and sure as hell you don’t feel pain
They say you hunt like an eagle, that you’re part Cherokee
But noone knows what you’re looking for on that road called destiny.
And down in the valley she’s watching and waiting
A girl with a dream that she hopes will come true
On the sky-wide horizon, a cowboy is riding
Should he have told her he’s just passing through
And somewhere on that journey,
A girl will take him by the hand.
But love is not a word you understand.
And somewhere on that journey,
A girl will take him by the hand.
But love is not a word...
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
Of all the figures in American history, surely the most iconic is ‘The Cowboy’. A significant branch of the burgeoning film industry was dedicated to making movies, ‘Westerns’, to tell his story.
Yet for the most part these ‘Cowboy and Indian’ romps did the cowboy a great disservice. The plots were predictable, the characters two dimensional at best. The cowboys seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to wipe out the indigenous population who were used exclusively as bullet-fodder. Film cowboys were always white. And, given the nature of a cowboy’s work it was odd that cattle didn’t seem to feature much. On the plus side, the scenery was great! Gulches, mesas, passes (where people were forever being ‘cut off’), rocks, dust, tumbleweed and sand.
But most mind-boggling of all were the ludicrously unnatural plants. There are, of course, no cacti native to the UK – and I’m certain that somewhere there’s a body of people who religiously believe that cacti are not, in fact, native to planet earth at all, and landed several millennia ago (probably in New Mexico) in a fleet of spaceships from whence they spread over the south west of the USA, and are, as we speak, quietly biding their time.
In truth, whilst some of the long drives undertaken by the cowboys may have crossed such arid terrain, it didn’t happen often. And rather than fronting-up to the native population, the cowboys would sometimes go to extraordinary lengths to avoid crossing paths with them, and where this couldn’t be avoided, there were often tacit agreements between the Nations and the cowboys that helped avoid any confrontations.
The drives sometimes took months and could cover literally thousands of miles with the cowboys spending endless hours in the saddle. It was a lonely, nomadic existence. They tended to be solitary, taciturn figures often on the run from a murky past. The money they received for a successful drive was usually spent, rarely judiciously, within days of the cattle arriving at their destination.
It would be fair to say, therefore, that the cowboy lifestyle wasn’t exactly conducive to long-term relationships. And yet, whilst he wasn’t particularly given to romance, the cowboy remains the most romantic figure in US history and continues to haunt the American psyche.
You’ve got a rifle at your shoulder and a monkey on your back
They say you’re meaner than winter, with the devil’s heart and mind
But all is fair in love and war as you cross each borderline.
And down in the valley she’s watching and waiting
A girl with a dream that she hopes will come true
On the sky-wide horizon, a cowboy is riding
Should he have told her he’s just passing through
They say you never ask questions, that you don’t have a name
They say you never feel pleasure and sure as hell you don’t feel pain
They say you hunt like an eagle, that you’re part Cherokee
But noone knows what you’re looking for on that road called destiny.
And down in the valley she’s watching and waiting
A girl with a dream that she hopes will come true
On the sky-wide horizon, a cowboy is riding
Should he have told her he’s just passing through
And somewhere on that journey,
A girl will take him by the hand.
But love is not a word you understand.
And somewhere on that journey,
A girl will take him by the hand.
But love is not a word...
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
Of all the figures in American history, surely the most iconic is ‘The Cowboy’. A significant branch of the burgeoning film industry was dedicated to making movies, ‘Westerns’, to tell his story.
Yet for the most part these ‘Cowboy and Indian’ romps did the cowboy a great disservice. The plots were predictable, the characters two dimensional at best. The cowboys seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to wipe out the indigenous population who were used exclusively as bullet-fodder. Film cowboys were always white. And, given the nature of a cowboy’s work it was odd that cattle didn’t seem to feature much. On the plus side, the scenery was great! Gulches, mesas, passes (where people were forever being ‘cut off’), rocks, dust, tumbleweed and sand.
But most mind-boggling of all were the ludicrously unnatural plants. There are, of course, no cacti native to the UK – and I’m certain that somewhere there’s a body of people who religiously believe that cacti are not, in fact, native to planet earth at all, and landed several millennia ago (probably in New Mexico) in a fleet of spaceships from whence they spread over the south west of the USA, and are, as we speak, quietly biding their time.
In truth, whilst some of the long drives undertaken by the cowboys may have crossed such arid terrain, it didn’t happen often. And rather than fronting-up to the native population, the cowboys would sometimes go to extraordinary lengths to avoid crossing paths with them, and where this couldn’t be avoided, there were often tacit agreements between the Nations and the cowboys that helped avoid any confrontations.
The drives sometimes took months and could cover literally thousands of miles with the cowboys spending endless hours in the saddle. It was a lonely, nomadic existence. They tended to be solitary, taciturn figures often on the run from a murky past. The money they received for a successful drive was usually spent, rarely judiciously, within days of the cattle arriving at their destination.
It would be fair to say, therefore, that the cowboy lifestyle wasn’t exactly conducive to long-term relationships. And yet, whilst he wasn’t particularly given to romance, the cowboy remains the most romantic figure in US history and continues to haunt the American psyche.
This Trail Of Tears (words: trad. Music: Jamie Field & Evelyn Downing)
"Long time we travelled on way to new land
People feel bad when we leave old nation
Children cry and womens' cry
But they say nothing and keep on towards the west."
On this trail of tears.
Copyright © Jamie Field & Evelyn Downing 2012. All rights reserved.
The Trail of Tears was a forced migration undertaken by the Cherokee Indians of the eastern United States in 1838/39 from their native lands in Georgia and North Carolina westward to Oklahoma.
The Cherokee were tricked with an illegitimate treaty. In 1833, a small faction agreed to sign a removal agreement: the Treaty of New Echota. The leaders of this group were not the recognized leaders of the Cherokee nation, and over 15,000 Cherokees - led by Chief John Ross - signed a petition in protest. The Supreme Court ignored their demands and ratified the treaty in 1836. The Cherokee were given two years to migrate voluntarily, at the end of which time they would be forcibly removed. By 1838 only 2,000 had migrated; 16,000 remained on their land. The U.S. government sent in 7,000 troops, who forced the Cherokees into stockades at bayonet point. They were not allowed time to gather their belongings, and as they left, whites looted their homes. Then began the forced march of 1,285 km (about 800 miles ) known as The Trail of Tears, in which 4,000 Cherokee people died of cold, hunger, and disease on their way to the western lands.
The words we use in this song are adapted from the recollections of a survivor:
"Long time we travel on way to new land. People feel bad when they leave Old Nation. Womens cry and make sad wails, Children cry and many men cry...but they say nothing and just put heads down and keep on go towards West. Many days pass and people die very much."
The arcing melody line of the chorus is a direct reflection of the northern most route taken by the Cherokee as it appears on the map. The words of the verse are an edited version of recollections made a survivor of the march.
This Trail of Tears is one of the earliest songs written for American Images and has been through many recorded versions. We have chosen to release this stripped back version that focuses on the story it tells.
People feel bad when we leave old nation
Children cry and womens' cry
But they say nothing and keep on towards the west."
On this trail of tears.
Copyright © Jamie Field & Evelyn Downing 2012. All rights reserved.
The Trail of Tears was a forced migration undertaken by the Cherokee Indians of the eastern United States in 1838/39 from their native lands in Georgia and North Carolina westward to Oklahoma.
The Cherokee were tricked with an illegitimate treaty. In 1833, a small faction agreed to sign a removal agreement: the Treaty of New Echota. The leaders of this group were not the recognized leaders of the Cherokee nation, and over 15,000 Cherokees - led by Chief John Ross - signed a petition in protest. The Supreme Court ignored their demands and ratified the treaty in 1836. The Cherokee were given two years to migrate voluntarily, at the end of which time they would be forcibly removed. By 1838 only 2,000 had migrated; 16,000 remained on their land. The U.S. government sent in 7,000 troops, who forced the Cherokees into stockades at bayonet point. They were not allowed time to gather their belongings, and as they left, whites looted their homes. Then began the forced march of 1,285 km (about 800 miles ) known as The Trail of Tears, in which 4,000 Cherokee people died of cold, hunger, and disease on their way to the western lands.
The words we use in this song are adapted from the recollections of a survivor:
"Long time we travel on way to new land. People feel bad when they leave Old Nation. Womens cry and make sad wails, Children cry and many men cry...but they say nothing and just put heads down and keep on go towards West. Many days pass and people die very much."
The arcing melody line of the chorus is a direct reflection of the northern most route taken by the Cherokee as it appears on the map. The words of the verse are an edited version of recollections made a survivor of the march.
This Trail of Tears is one of the earliest songs written for American Images and has been through many recorded versions. We have chosen to release this stripped back version that focuses on the story it tells.
Comes And Goes (words and music: Jamie Field)
You stand at the corner wearing ribbons of black.
Facing the future with a gun at your back.
The girl on the sidewalk’s out selling her soul.
She’s no longer a dreamer she just comes and goes.
You work in the factory when there’s work to be had.
The pay is a pittance but your told to be glad.
The man in the mirror has nothing to show,
For a lifetime of working he just comes and goes.
Down by the Hudson it’s darker than sin,
But the girl is still waiting for her ship to come in.
Time takes it toll it’s beginning to show,
For a lifetime of hoping she just comes and goes.
God gives you mercy but he don’t pay the bills.
Can’t take the pain so keep taking the pills.
The man in the subway he rolls with the blows,
For a life time of sorrow he just comes and goes.
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
The United States was built on the sweat of millions of unheralded men and woman, often immigrants who came through Ellis Island, and who seem largely forgotten, airbrushed out of the history of the nation.
Comes and Goes was the last piece to be written for the American Images project. I realised that we didn’t have a song relating to New York, and rather than write something along the lines of “New York! New York! It’s a wonderful town!” I opted for a more reflective look at the other side of the city – not the glittering, bright lights, but the darker, hidden side where the vast majority of its citizens live, many just trying to get by.
To reflect the nature of the lyrics and the folk-like melody, I wanted to keep this track austere, as simple as possible - just Evelyn’s sublime vocals, Colin’s restrained piano, a subtle accordion, and Wendy’s gorgeous oboe solo.
Although it’s set in New York, on reflection I guess it’s actually a piece for the anonymous, unsung millions of people in the United States. To borrow from Jackson Browne: ‘It’s a song for ‘Everyman’.
Facing the future with a gun at your back.
The girl on the sidewalk’s out selling her soul.
She’s no longer a dreamer she just comes and goes.
You work in the factory when there’s work to be had.
The pay is a pittance but your told to be glad.
The man in the mirror has nothing to show,
For a lifetime of working he just comes and goes.
Down by the Hudson it’s darker than sin,
But the girl is still waiting for her ship to come in.
Time takes it toll it’s beginning to show,
For a lifetime of hoping she just comes and goes.
God gives you mercy but he don’t pay the bills.
Can’t take the pain so keep taking the pills.
The man in the subway he rolls with the blows,
For a life time of sorrow he just comes and goes.
Copyright © Jamie Field 2012. All rights reserved.
The United States was built on the sweat of millions of unheralded men and woman, often immigrants who came through Ellis Island, and who seem largely forgotten, airbrushed out of the history of the nation.
Comes and Goes was the last piece to be written for the American Images project. I realised that we didn’t have a song relating to New York, and rather than write something along the lines of “New York! New York! It’s a wonderful town!” I opted for a more reflective look at the other side of the city – not the glittering, bright lights, but the darker, hidden side where the vast majority of its citizens live, many just trying to get by.
To reflect the nature of the lyrics and the folk-like melody, I wanted to keep this track austere, as simple as possible - just Evelyn’s sublime vocals, Colin’s restrained piano, a subtle accordion, and Wendy’s gorgeous oboe solo.
Although it’s set in New York, on reflection I guess it’s actually a piece for the anonymous, unsung millions of people in the United States. To borrow from Jackson Browne: ‘It’s a song for ‘Everyman’.
Interlude No.3 for Cor Anglais and Piano: The Black Hills (music: Wendy Marks & Colin Henney)
Copyright © Wendy Marks & Colin Henney 2012. All rights reserved.
The third and last of the instrumentals improvised by Wendy and Colin. This one uses the melody from 'Frontier' and therefore bookends the album.
The third and last of the instrumentals improvised by Wendy and Colin. This one uses the melody from 'Frontier' and therefore bookends the album.