Thoughts on Songwriting :: The Tempest

The harmonic woes of composing this song were well documented in my previous post, so I would like to focus this little discussion on lyrics.

I think anyone who spends time with Erica and me can tell you that this past year and a half has been a struggle. I quit my full-time job. We moved. We adjusted to an inconsistent and often insufficient income. We wrote and recorded this project together, self-producing. In the midst of all these things, we’re the parents of two young children, and we are attentive and committed parents at that. We’ve also stitched together a semblance of an income, doing musically related gigs of all shapes and sizes.

I don’t tell you all this to ask for pity, or pretend that we’re somehow regretting our decisions. I think it’s safe to say that we’ve both been taken aback by how much turmoil enters your life when you abandon a routine, when you abandon safety. I confess that I had romanticized the wild and unpredictable life of the free lance musician, the struggling artist.

It’s not a lot of fun, at least thus far. I can fully understand why people who take their crack and miss can grow bitter and resentful against musicians who are successful. You feel like you’ve put your life on the line, and for what?

I remember one night, Erica was deeply frustrated about something, and I was hearing about it. She wasn’t necessarily upset with me, just frustrated and in need of a place to vent. It was a hard scene for me, that night. I was feeling like I was somehow responsible for her stress, even though it was indirect responsibility. Money was tight, or there had been a schedule misfire, or something. I honestly can’t remember.

It was hurricane season, and even though we don’t fear them in Southern California, I think everyone dreads them post Katrina. None of us ever again want to watch our countrymen hanging out on the roofs of their flooded and ruined homes, pleading for help.

I remember some talking head on TV explaining how hurricanes are almost like the ocean blowing off steam, how too much accumulated heat in the water which leads to evaporation which leads to stuff that I don’t understand. The one thing that I did get was that it was a pressure release.

I see storm clouds gathering behind your eyes
A tempest brewing in your azure skies
Forces beyond your control
Stir up the sea of the soul

I got this idea that a person needs a place to blow off their steam, and where else but in the safety of a committed relationship? This is a hard thing. It’s hard to absorb someone else’s gale force winds and not get taken down.

I board the windows and I bolt the doors
Winds have buffeted this home before
Damage is done and repaired
All we can do is prepare

How tough is our home, how steely is our will? How solid and deep and wide is our foundation? Is our storehouse thick with supplies and food? Do we have a plan for shelter?

I once had a wise person, who had been married for a long time say something simple and profound to me. He said, “You know how to improve your chances of keeping your relationship together? Arrange it so that both of the parties come from parents who are still together.” He was being tongue in cheek, of course. One cannot control such things.

He went on, “It’s simple. People who come from intact families have a heightened sense of obligation not to be the break in the chain. They don’t want to be the ones who fail where the previous generation succeeded. It simply increases the mathematical percentages, that sense of legacy.”

Now, obviously, there are counter arguments to this. Many people who come from broken marriages, or single parents go on to have successful relationships. Many couples stay together, but are locked in a perpetual Tempest, never experiencing the calm or serenity after a storm. I believe there are few sadder things then a couple trudging through life, loveless and resigned.

I think his point, and the point of our song, is that a decision to simply weather the storm, rather then abandoning one’s home and heading for the hills, radically increases the chances of survival. Eventually, one must decide if they are going to plant a flag and say, “This is the hill worth dying on. This is home.”

The sun will arise, my love
There’s light in the sky, my love
The sun will arise, my love
And we are alive, my love

Not the first… nor the last… but this tempest too shall pass

Even the fiercest storm eventually blows itself out. The trick is to not only survive, but rebuild and thrive….

…but that’s for another song.