This afternoon, I was watching Bolt with my grandson. Bolt tells the story of the canine star of a fictional sci-fi/action show.  The dog (whose voice is John Travolta) believes his powers are real and he embarks on a cross country trek to save his co-star (Penny) from a threat he believes is just as real as the show he stars in and the character he portrays. This song by Jenny Lewis is part of the sound track and I was so impressed with the song that I decided to try to add this upbeat song to my children’s programs somehow. Lewis is an actress and musician. Her website is here:

From Bolt Lyrics for “Barking at the Moon”(There Is No Home Like the One You Got) by Jenny Lewis

I have got so much to give,
I swear I do,
I may not have nine lives,
But this one feels brand new.

Yes, I’ve lived a good one
I have tried to be true
There are some things
I never realized,
Till I met you.

How the wind feels on my cheeks,
When I’m barking at the moon,
There is no home like the one you’ve got
Cause that home belongs to you.

Woo woo, here I come,
Woo woo, back to you,
There is no home like the one you’ve got
Cause that home belongs to you.

Well, I was in the trouble bad,
I was so confused,
I may not see in color, babe,
But I sure can feel blue.

I have been a lot of things,
They may not all be true.
My experience was so mysterious
Till I met you.

Now the sun will rise in the east,
But I’m barking at the moon,
There is no home like the one you’ve got
Cause that home belongs to you.

Woo woo, here I come,
Woo woo, back to you,
There is no home like the one you’ve got
Cause that home belongs to you.

There is no home like the one you’ve got
Cause that home belongs to you. (Repeat again slowly)

To Live’s to Fly: The Ballad of the Late, Great Townes Van Zandt by John Kruth A Review by Rickey Pittman

This is the second biography I’ve read of Townes Van Zandt. And though I found many points that overlapped with the previous biography I reviewed (A Deeper Blue), I found To Live’s to Fly: The Ballad of the Late, Great Townes Van Zandt by John Kruth (Da Capo 2007) an interesting and illuminating read.

The book contains a great section of photos, and the biography is carefully researched.  With 27 chapters and a Postscript, the book has a good structure and if you’re a fan of Townes, the book is a page-turner that is not easy to put down.  The last hours of my day were spent reading it, and the past few nights, I found myself dreaming about Townes Van Zandt and scenes in this book.

The author works hard, and I think successfully, to let us gaze into the life, mind, and heart of the Texas Troubadour. His songs are worked in chronologically and in a way that provide insights not only into Townes, but also into the lives of those who surrounded him.  After reading this book, I realized how little I really knew about the folk singers of Texas and Nashville.

Anthony DeCurtis, contributing editor for Rolling Stone magazine says of this biography: “Townes Van Zandt was an ornery, unpredictable genius, a songwriter whose gift offered him salvation and damnation in equal doses.  In John Kruth he has found a biographer well-suited to his eccentricities and rough edges, a man who understand him and who brings light into his dark places.”

I think this is a good summary of this biography. If you’re a Townes fan, you need to read Kruth’s book. I liked the book so much that I ordered the two CD copy of Live at the Quarter. It will be interesting to see how this book and CD change my own Americana show.

Advice for Writers from an Award Winning Author

There’s a New York Times Bestseller entitled, Still Alice, a novel by Lisa Genova (Simon & Schuster). For anyone with a parent suffering from Alzheimer’s, this is a must read. Though there are many things I could say about this novel, I chose to do an entry for my blog about her writing this book and the advice she has for aspiring writers. Here is the quote from the Discussion Question section.  She says:

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers?

I know so many aspiring writers whoa re sitting in a holding pattern, with a work completed, waiting to find a literary agent.  They’re stuck, unable to give themselves permission to write the next book because they’re waiting to find out if their work is “good enough,” waiting to find out if they’re a ‘real writer.”  This state of waiting, of not writing and self-doubt, is the worst state any writer can be in.  My advice is this:  If you don’t find a literary agent falling into your lap quickly enough, if you feel like your work is done and is ready to be shared with the world, self-publish. Give your work to the world. Let it go. And keep writing. Freedom! I was recently in my car listening to Diablo Cody, who wrote the  screenplay for Juno, on NPR and when asked what advice she had for aspiring screenwriters, she said, “Self-publish.”  I yelled alone in my car, “Woohoo! See? Diablo Cody agrees with me, and she’s just been nominated for an Academy Award!”

Explain Your Writing Schedule

I have a newborn baby boy, so these days it’s catch as you can.  But for Still Alice, I wrote in Starbucks every day while my then six-year-old daughter was in school.   I found writing from home too difficult. There were too many distractions—phone calls to return, food to eat in the fridge, laundry to do, bills to pay.  You know you’re procrastinating when you’re paying bills instead of writing the next scene!  At Starbucks,  there were no excuses. Nothing else to do but write. You can’t even daydream there for long without looking crazy.  So you just put your head down and do it . . . My time to write was my time to write . . . I think having a limited number of hours each day to write kept me hungry to get back to it.  I never dreaded it or experienced writer’s block.  Every day, I couldn’t wait to get back to Starbucks, drink chai tea lattes, and write.

Stories of the Confederate South: A Review by Cassie A Barrow, published in Confederate Veteran, July/August/ 2009.

It is essential in today’s society to have books that tell the story of the Confederacy to a younger audience. To do so successfully, the writer must be witty, entertaining, yet relate the truth about the time period, even in fiction.  Stories of the Confederate South is such a book that has a menagerie of different accounts pertaining to the War Between the States. This publication is perfect for middle school-aged children.

Stories of the Confederate South contains ten short fiction stories that deal with varying details of the war. One narrative gives the reader a glimpse of the war against Southern women, while another tells of a present day bias for a Southern boy in the North. “From the senseless death and suffering of children to the strength of Confederate women, Pittman recounts the events of the War from the unique and unforgettable perspective of a Southerner,” as stated in a promotional leaflet for this publication.  Author Rickey Pittman does an outstanding job once again in his writings.  Mr. Pittman is also the author of the children’s book, Jim Limber Davis: A Black Orphan in the Confederate White House.

Here are the lyrics to song #9 for my CD of original songs. The melody and chords I had written years ago, but the lyrics only tonight. I’m excited! Only one more song for my first CD of original music.

“Look How Lonely”: A Song by Rickey E. Pittman

Verse 1
I guess we didn’t think the worst could happen,
I guess we didn’t think we’d bleed,
We put our hearts on the line,
Thinking love would not be denied,
Now look how lonely we can be.

Verse 2
Something’s broken now inside me.
Something that no one else can see,
Yours was a love I threw away,
Nothing left now for me to say,
But look how lonely, I can be.

Verse 3
I’m not looking for easy answers,
I’m not looking for your return,
I just hope before my dying day,
That maybe I’ll hear you say,
Without you how lonely I can be.

Verse 4
If I knew my world would end tomorrow,
Tonight, I’d find you and I’d say,
You were the one and only love,
The one I’m still dreaming of,
And look how lonely a man can be.

Verse 5
I tried to drown you in my memory,
But pills and whisky don’t ease the pain,
Your goodbye was a knife,
That cut the chord binding our lives,
Now look how lonely we can be.

Without you, there’ll never be a me.

An important part of any author’s or musician’s life is the promotion of his work. This year, I’m signed up for author events at these Sam’s Clubs. Almost always, Sam’s will have high traffic.  So here is my Sam’s Schedule in Louisiana and Texas:

9/5/2009       9:30 to 11:30 Jackson, MS
10/3/2009 9:00 to 11:00 Longview
10/3/2009 4:00 to 6:00 Shreveport

10/3/2009 12:00 to 2:00 Tyler
10/10/2009 9:30 to 11:30 Alexandria, LA
10/11/2009 2:00 to 4:00 Monroe
10/17/2009 2:00 to 4:00 Dallas

10/17/2009 10:00 to 12:00 Plano
10/18/2009 2:00 to 4:00 Ft. Worth
10/18/2009 10:00 to 12:00 Dallas
11/28/2009 9:30 to 11:30 Slidell
11/28/2009 2:00 to 4:00 Gulfport
11/29/2009 2:00 to 4:00 Harvey
11/29/2009 10:00 to 12:00 Kenner

A Deeper Blue: The Life and Music of Townes Van Zandt

by Robert Earl Hardy

A Review by Rickey E. Pittman

My recent interest in the life and music of Townes Van Zandt began with a recording on one of my Oxford Magazine music CD’s.  The song was “Nothin’” and it was sung by Townes himself. A haunting, almost terrifying song, I couldn’t get it out of my mind, so I memorized it and now it is part of my own Americana music show.  This song was followed by hearing an interview of Steve Earl on the radio, discussing his new CD, Townes on which he performs his favorite songs of the late Texas songwriter.

After the immersion of music, I decided to learn about Van Zandt’s life, so I ordered two Townes Van Zandt biographies: To Live’s to Fly by John Kruth, which I’ll review in a future post, and A Deeper Blue: The Life and Music of Townes Van Zandt, written by Robert Earl Hardy and published by University of North Texas Press. I just finished reading Hardy’s book so I wanted to write a short review.

I’ve always loved to read biographies, and I found Hardy’s book to be a page turner, one that kept my interest throughout the read. I learned that many of the songs I had loved through the years and incorporated them into my show had actually been written by Townes Van Zandt—”Tecumseh Valley,” “Snowing on Raton,” and many others. In A Deeper Blue, the anecdotes and conversations are carefully chosen and powerfully and sometimes sadly, illuminate the life of this Texas troubadour. It was interesting and sometimes surprising to read of the many musicians I’ve known of and respected who were woven into Van Zandt’s milieu—Guy Clark, Emmy Lou Harris, Steve Earl, Jerry Jeff Walker, and so many others. Hardy was thorough and careful in his research, and to his credit, though the author was honest, direct, and revealing, he never came close to voyeurism or paparazzi cruelty in his evaluations or revelations.  The chronology of Townes’ life was woven carefully with photos and the threads of songs (with origin and anecdotes), lyrics, and performances. When I finished the read, I felt I had looked inside the mind and heart and music of Townes Van Zandt. Townes was, in Hardy’s words, “the embodiment of the troubled troubadour” (2).

The book’s inside jacket provides a succinct summary of the book’s contents: “A Deeper Blue traces VanZandt’s background as the scion of a prominent Texas family; his troubled early years and his transformation from promising pre-law student to wandering folk singer; his life on the road and the demons that pursued and were pursued by him; the women who loved and inspired him; and the brilliance and enduring beauty of his songs, which are explored in depth.”

This past Saturday night, after the Scots-Irish band I’m in (Angus Dubghall) finished our performance at Enoch’s Pub in Monroe, I talked with the pub’s owner Doyle Jeeter, who had some good stories of his own to share of Townes Van Zandt.

I purchased this biography to learn about a great musician, and Hardy came through. Overall, I would have to highly recommend this biography.

I really am working hard on my songwriting. Here is song #7 for my CD I want to have made this summer. I’ll be “field testing” these songs on some audiences soon. I’m thinking of adding a couple of traditional songs that I’ve got my own arrangements for to the CD as well. We’ll see about that. I started to make the song be about a Confederate soldier who had a sweetheart in Columbia who had heard about Sherman burning the city, but I couldn’t make the lyrics work, so I kept the chorus and made it a song about a lost love.

“Did Spring Come Early to Columbia?”
Song lyrics by Rickey Pittman

CHORUS:
Did spring come early to Columbia,
Did the dogwoods remind you of our love,
Was the fragrance of magnolias in the air?
Are the birds singing now like they used to,
When our love was strong and I had you,
Did Spring come early to Columbia this year?

VERSE 1
We fell in love at first sight,
Didn’t care if it was wrong or right,
But didn’t know how hard a heart could break,
I tried so hard to keep your love,
But when it came to push and shove,
I guess you had to let me go.

CHORUS:

VERSE 2
We broke the rules and rolled the dice
Won with sevens, hit snake eyes twice,
I played for keeps in a game I couldn’t win,
So crazy in love that I didn’t care,
I called the bluff on the devil’s dare,
You dealt the cards and I did the sin.

CHORUS:

VERSE3
They say once love is gone, the demons dance along,
They fill your heart and they teach you their songs,
And their sadness will fill your voice and eyes,
I guess you’ve got your demons too,
Hidden lies, brutal truths,
So let me ask you one more time.

CHORUS:

VERSE 4
The air is cold, it’s still winter here,
I haven’t seen you in two long years,
But I still think of you every night,
Goodbye was tough, but living’s worse,
I don’t know if I can stay the course,
I need spring again, and you with me tonight.

I wrote this song in memory and in honor of Johnny. I never knew his last name. He was Hispanic, and he was hired by the Pittman family to take care of my grandfather in his last months, when we knew he was dying. A hospice worker of a sort, I guess, who lived with them. Their house was just outside Rochester, Texas, in a part of the country known as the Texas Badlands. The water there tasted like sulfur. I liked Johnny and got to know him well. I still remember vividly his telling me how his mother made tortillas. My cousin Sammy didn’t like him and was very vocal about it. In West Texas a prejudice exists among some that is directed against Hispanics. It is a prejudice that is equal to the prejudice you sometimes see directed against blacks in the South. One night my mother called me and told me about Johnny’s suicide. Grandmother had told her what she knew, and she had passed that information on to me. He killed himself with a shotgun outside at my grandparents’ storm cellar. He had left a suicide note. The event traumatized my grandmother, but of course my grandfather barely understood. My grandfather was so inward and withdrawn at that point, that I don’t know that he even missed Johnny, but I did. The grief we all felt was too deep to be forgotten, so I wrote this song.

A Song I Still Hear

Verse 1
Johnny was born in Texas,
But his folks came from Mexico,
They settled close to Haskell,
And swore they’d never go.
They drank the Badland water,
And worked a Badland farm,
They’d gather at their table,
And sing this arm in arm.

CHORUS:
We’ll always have each other,
We’ll never say goodbye
We’ll always be a family,
And I’ll never make you cry.

Verse 2:
Johnny worked the oilfields
And was the toughest boy in town.
He spent time in the Army,
Then tried to settle down,
One night he met Maria,
She became his everything,
She promised that they’d marry,
And that every night they’d sing.

CHORUS:

Verse 3:
But things seldom work out
The way we want them too.
Maria moved to Dallas,
And Maria was untrue,
She said she loved another,
And could not be his wife.
Johnny’s demons found him,
And that night he took his life.

CHORUS:

Verse 4:
On moonlight nights in Texas
Between coyote songs
I think of how we miss him,
His death just seems so wrong,
I think about the friend he was,
And the friend I could have been,
When I visit with his family,
We sing this song for him.

CHORUS:

This is the second anniversary of my brother’s death. This poem, that I hope to turn into a song, came to me, so I scribbled it down. With my friend Tom McCandlish’s help, I’m going to make a CD of original songs this summer. I’ve got six good songs already, so I need a few more. Maybe this will be one. You never know if you’re a poet or songwriter. You just have to listen to your muse when she speaks/whispers. I want to make this CD, not because I have hopes of being a superstar singer, but in hopes that a really great singer will want to sing my songs. Wish me luck on that. Anyway, let me know what you think of this poem.
Forgotten Lullaby

(Written in memory of Jimmy Dale Pittman (April 21, 1954-June 30, 2007) and my granddad Fogle in Ivanhoe, TX)

Abandoned now after all these years,
The fence long torn down,
A little house dies alone
Without a whisper or a frown.

It barely stands in Ivanhoe,
A little one road town,
Named after a book no one reads,
I can almost hear a sound

My memories shift like forking roads
To my granddad’s home,
And how like himself, abandoned now,
To crumble and die alone.

Two barefoot boys once played in that yard
Now overgrown with weeds,
They heard bobwhites and owls and whippoorwills,
And watched the fireflies in the trees.

It doesn’t seem like 50 years,
But, yes, it’s been that long,
Since I played with my brother there,
Now the house and him are gone.

We’d lie awake on hot summer nights,
In an antique, now-sold bed,
The oscillating fan our lullaby,
Goodnight, goodbye, it said.