this thing is still about things

Sleepy Fan Girl


From time to time, even when I’m on a decent sleep schedule, insomnia comes and cuddles up with me for a few nights.  In these late nights, I turn to video games and computer time, both of which are pretty awful in combating sleeplessness.  One thing that does work for me is music—too bad it’s all on my computer.  I kind of fail at this game.

So, since it’s 3:30 AM, I find myself listening to Roger Clyne.  Sometimes in life, you get so lucky.  You’re in the right place at the right time for once.  The opportunity to hear someone make music that appeals to you is wonderful, but to have the music ebb and flow and grow with you over years and years turns the lyrics and the rhythms into a part of your soul.

And I wonder where I’ll be in a year
I’ll probably be sittin’ right here
But if you know the answer,
don’t tell me anyone
Cause I don’t wanna know
“Don’t Wanna Know”

There ain’t no moral to this story at all
Anything I tell you very well could be a lie
I’ve been away from the living,
I don’t need to be forgiven
I’m just waiting for that cold black soul of mine
To come alive

And then college happened and so many things fell apart and grew out of the wreckage.

Well I’ve traveled,
and I’ve seen the things I build, working
Workin’ to bring me down
And I may be thirsty now
And I will go beyond this thirst
And my tears I cry for you will all go dry
So I lay down on the floor, turn on my radio
Come on River Otis make me cry
“Tributary Otis”

Even as the songs take on more of a Southwestern sound I love them so much (I refuse to classify it as country music!).  I might have mentioned it before but all the songs I sang to my children were Roger Clyne songs.  They’re the only songs I know all the way through, and it annoyed me when I’d trip over lullaby lyrics.  Hold your baby and sing songs about death and love?  Well this explains so much.

When the candle’s burnin’ down,
when midnight comes around
You know the best that we can hope for
Is to be laughin’ when we finally hit the ground
“Sin Nombre”

Oooh, la salvadora, oh, sweet catastrophe
Oh, siren song, the captain says there’s nothing wrong as I
Dash my ship upon your shore, a mad, drunk, and reckless troubadour
I’m outside here hollerin’ at your door, begging you for more of you
“Beautiful Disaster”

It’s more than just the lyrics or the music.  Listen to his voice.  His passion and emotion resonates.  There have been songs that have made me cry but when Roger Clyne sings, he makes me weep.

There’s bones on the beach and there’s ashes in the jar
Ghosts in the air laughin’ at fools at the bar
And somewhere inside this river don’t run to the sea no more
Life is cheap here and death is rich
And he finally got you, lucky son of a bitch
And if I could do it again
I’d cry loud at your hospital bed
“Ashes of San Miguel”

My favorite song is probably Green and Dumb.  Haven’t you ever heard a song and wished someone would sing to you?  That someone, at the very least, thought that way about you?  Please say yes, I can’t be the only one.   This live version gives me the feels:

UPDATE: Of course, no embedding.  Again.  Crap.  Watch it here.

Daisies stand up on their tip-toes
Clouds tumble over themselves in the sky
And all the pretty horses come runnin’ to her
And even the dust devils pray
That they’ll catch her eye

I haunt her house from the outside
I watch her bake cornbread and talk on the phone
And the wireless on the inside plays a sad sweet song
A mute moonlit statue am I, she waltzes alone

But baby, baby, I could call you baby
If I weren’t so empty in the head and tied up in the tongue
And baby, baby, I could call you baby
If I weren’t so green and dumb

The wind ain’t stopped blowin’ since morning
It’s got me froze up on the inside
And I could get warm in the bunk house
And thaw out on coffee and bread

But baby, baby, I could call you baby
If I weren’t so empty in the head and tied up in the tongue
But baby, baby, I could call you baby
If I weren’t so green and dumb

I need your government warning
like I need a hole in my head
Well, I won’t shoot your coyotes
And I won’t burn your weeds
Your paycheck won’t fill up this hollow
It won’t dull all the aching

But baby, baby, I could call you baby
If I weren’t so empty in the head and tied up in the tongue
But baby, baby, I could call you baby
If I weren’t so green & dumb

Well, it’s 6 AM now. This gif is appropriate.

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