Introduction Review Some Secrets About 'Secrets Of The Heart' Audio Clips
I have a strong sense of retaining friendships. Perhaps it's because my brother died when he was four and a half years of age. I was seven and not really aware of what was happening because of the veil of silence behind which his illness was dealt with. My longest standing friendships go back to early school days and are strong and open. I have unconditional male and female friendships and my challenge is to make sure that our paths are two-way and my enthusiasm is consistent. Only recently one of my dear friends showed me this quote from the pen of the Roman, Epicurus, written about 300BC: "Of all the things that wisdom provides to help one's entire life in happiness, the greatest by far is the possession of friendship". Does this mean we can stand in someone else's shoes? Is this a non sequitur? Who cares, so long as we can have friends and friends can have us, specially like those in the "thanks and warmth" paragraph in the CD foldout. Fold it out and peruse.
Somehow that front room at Stuart Street in Northbridge, dark as it was and unremarkable, gave me the surroundings for this song and for kathleen, two of the more narrative pieces on the CD. The lyric of as long as I know you love me contains not only predictability but also the occasional personal view. "…letters filled with sacred lines…" mean more to me than words in so-called holy books. Letters from those I love are of my knowledge and reckoning and more preferable to me than the hand-me-down disarray of hearsay attributed to writers of letters in tomes that should have been assigned to mere history rather than being venerated by those who perhaps rely on third party supplication.
Location, location, location; the catch cry of real estate agents who wish to peddle their properties on burgled boundaries was also the basis of the move by Eddie Koiki Mabo to focus attention on the location of his people's land. He realised that his people truly had the right to it. I agonised over the phrase "He was an ordinary man" because I understood that he was exceptional. It was, in my poetic style, a way of contrasting the power of his personal mission with the perception that he was not up to the task of leading such a monumental change. I know his legend will mature in the best possible way because I believe compassionate people outweigh all others, if not in numbers then certainly in attitude.
'Unique' is a unique word. It applies to eucalyptus diversicolor, known more commonly as the karri, that majestic tree that's a native of the south west of Western Australia. There is a particularly attractive place on the south coast of WA, Denmark, which used to be a karri town and a jarrah town and a marri town in those bad old days when all these giants of the forest, unique to the south west of WA, were culled relentlessly. My first visit to that area opened my eyes and mind to that rare blend of spirit and earth I believe resides there. In moments of alternative influences I've thought about leaving that area to move closer to others, but then I think to myself, hey, why don't they move to Denmark? The old 'paean of praise' phrase pops into view but loving that space goes into a different realm. In some ways it should be recognised as its own realm, its own flora, its own fauna encapsulated in an area roughly the size of Liechtenstein. However, it is now an old karri town and thankfully not a new karri town. At least there will be some tall timber for my grandchildren to gaze at in awe when they visit.
How intriguing to think that there could be someone with whom one could be soul to soul. The ephemeral soul is credited with such subjective qualities that it takes on a separate being for some. Perhaps then if, as a believer, my soul comes into close contact with, as a believer, your soul we could have soular power. The sum will be greater than the total of the individual components. The concept of soul gives those non-secular folk an acceptable route through their repressed pagan depths. In reality it may be just the sublime extension of the human brain's capacity for esotericity. The song itself floats over a safety net of majors, minors, suspended ninths and a singing bowl. With the permission of my co-writers, Annette Ducharme and Andrew Matheson, I will be entering soul to soul into the competition for Up And Coming Wedding Song Of The Twentyfirst Century. Please consider it for your next nuptials. It will not disappoint.
Secretly hoping that Eric Clapton or a similar performer will cover this one. This is a rare excursion into a sad lyric for me. Luckily Jim Fisher was there to make sure the maudlin quotient was not breached. Would like to claim the electric guitar solo as mine but Michael Cristian's fans know his talent for tasteful restraint and they would have reported me to the guitar police in a trice. "Easy fixing broken windows…" but fixing other things may not be so straightforward. Sometimes a change of mind is all that is needed. People who know me understand that I frequently have difficulty taking this kind of advice.
Originally titled the shining mountains and written for famed Canadian singer and good friend, John McDermott, this piece sat around for a few years. Flicking through my old song jottings I came across the peace in my time chorus I had discarded and suddenly it felt more appropriate than the chorus of the shining mountains did. Perhaps if people are sufficiently interested I could put an mp3 file of the alternative section on the web site when I update it. Lots of love songs have been written; many peace songs have been written. Hopefully this means that these topics are on the mind of many people. Translating love songs into action, however, seems to be much easier than propagating peace through words and music. Needs more work and diligence from everyone.
"…Falling out of love has never been so hard…" is one of the secrets that some may keep within their life and heart. I chose to make it less of a secret in this lyric. The title of the song seamlessly became the title of the CD because I lived these words within welcoming walls during the recording period. Slowing it down only became possible once the heart stopped crying. Very recently, indeed, and perhaps never completely.
Sitting in the little Sicilian village of Triscina in the summer of 2001 seemed to be very influential for my songwriting. I was there with my mother for the wedding of my son and Sicilian daughter-in-law. My muse was there too and helped me through this work in very short time, crystallising some of the family issues extent. I'm disappointed that no one seems to pick up the device my muse and I used to start a verse with the last word of the verse before. The Gaelic feel to the accompaniment was always in the back of my mind but was really brought to fruition by Michael Parker's wonderful Irish whistle playing and, to some extent, by my late realisation that an open tuning for the guitar part would be empathetic. Michael Cristian's accordion work on this song makes the whole thing float emotionally.
Indeed it will, my dear mother, and mine will be yours. When Alan Rhody and I sat down in Nashville to work on this, I don't think either of us realised how comprehensively the words show respect for an older generation. It certainly sings well as a lyrical love song, but the extra dimension of making that dignified person who is your parent the subject of the song really works for me. We have done well, Alan. Michael Cristian's suggestion that this be a fully acoustic track has increased its directness to the heart that will always be my home.
"…Don't take for granted what's not your own…" The Yallarwah Place project, for which this song was written, started out in a noble fashion: to provide proper accommodation for indigenous people from country areas of New South Wales visiting sick relatives in hospital in Newcastle. Sadly, some of the lyrics have turned out to be prophetic, like the opening lines: "So much has been said before, most of it not worth the time anymore". We should all walk a proud highway, not turn our back on those who need our help and never patronise. How noble is that? No more nor less than the original Yallarwah concept. Respect is not a line in the sand, it IS the sand. The journey on the proud highway will lead to the new sunrise. Let's welcome it together.
Action! move it! make a decision! own up, because no one can judge you like you judge yourself! Thank you again Alan Rhody. And in all of this, where will my granddaughter Indigo, the precious little backing singer, be in twenty, thirty years? Hope I'll be around to find out. Likewise my grandson Pascal, the bold and talented artist who contributed the inner sleeve painting. I own two of his rare works created before he decided to tread the path of connectivity that eschews paint and paper. Long may they both hit the ground running with my little strand of bloodline somewhere in that double helix within them. Finished! Done!!
What possesses a grown man to interpret a song written for a boy group? The quality of the song, that's what! Tony Hiller and I were focussed on creating a pop song in the great British tradition of pop songs. The result was something more, with a depth and mystery about it that some find insidious. As for boy groups as exemplars, I'm just happy that there will be no video clip of this version. In fact are there any boy groups these days? The first group I formed while still at school was all boys - The Trinamics, so called because there were three of us and we thought we were pretty dynamic. Doesn't really stand up to scrutiny, does it? However, we could have had a hit with this had it been written back then. Tony, where were you when we needed you?
This is probably one of the most personally important lyrics I've written. It could be inspired by the "if you love them, set them free" graffito but it goes well beyond that. The extension of someone being so selfless is the foundation for this observation. I wonder if I can match this by giving so completely as the subject of these words has given. Time will tell, but we know that time is not always a friend.
Oh you wonderful muse. You gave me the courage to take eight bars of melody and repeat it until the gong sounds several minutes later. Fortunately Michael Parker steps into the studio playing his evocative Uillean pipes to imbue the performance with a haunting horizon of daunting craggy peaks. With this work I can visualise acting in the video clip, so long as I don't have to dive into the Arthurian-style lake to retrieve the sword held aloft by some submerged and very soggy lady.
Who are we? And more importantly, why are we? We definitely are heading for bar-coded lives, so resist with all your spirit. But hang on, it's too late already isn't it? Thank goodness there are beaches we can crash down and sand that crunches. Life's not half bad when you have those two components, but spare a thought for those in the middle of New York or London where both beach and sand are almost non-existent. Denizens of those towns will just have to enter their bar-codes and have a virtual crash down and a plasma screen crunch. Oh if only an airline or holiday cruise company would see the merit in making this song the soundtrack for their glossy travel advertisements. They may have passed it up because the lines of the chorus don't rhyme.
Should have thought of another name for this lyric. A quid for every time someone says "is that 'I'll Take You Home Again Kathleen?'" would make me a rich person. No matter. The subject of this narrative is named Kathleen. I can't be responsible for her parents' lack of originality. And what a life he (whatever his name was) and she had. Motorbikes and picnics and punts on the lake; it's a wonder they had time to have any kids. But, there was the lovely Kathleen dancing the night away while just about to give birth to their first child. You'd be kicking your heels up too if you had the likes of wonderful musicians like Gerry Hale on fiddle, Michael Parker on Irish whistle and Michael Cristian on accordion to lure you on to the dance floor. 'Twas obviously a marriage made in heaven, wherever that is, and we can all respect the reverie of the old narrator as he pays homage to his beautiful vision, Kathleen.
This collection of songs started with friends and is now going out with friends. It's no wonder that my music publishing company is named Circle Music. Things have a way of moving in that bubble-like form, just as in this lyric: "…there may be a lucky few, who sail through life untroubled, floating on the bubbles, in the wake of special friends like you…" and you, and you, and you, and you. Mark Lynch, cartoonist extraordinaire and a special friend, came up with the lyric and, because of the aforementioned John McDermott including it in his concerts, this song has been heard around the world. It makes a lot of friends.
The secret about this is that it has nothing to do with the country Denmark, though in 1972 I witnessed a sunset in its west coast harbour city of Esbjerg. It has everything to do with that old karri town, Denmark in Western Australia, where sunsets abound and the birds swish their formations across the richness of the clouds, heading over the water to their nesting grounds near Wilson Inlet. Some clouds bring the cleansing, recuperative rain that closes this piece. However, let the CD play through until the stillness of the night gives way to the birth of a new day, contributed by my granddaughter Giulia. Such joy is irresistible to me and I am so blessed to have another precious life to observe from my humble position filled with privilege.
Thank you for listening and reading. I hope you will share these secrets with special friends.
| Email: | circle@vianet.net.au |
| Website: | www.keithpotger.com.au |