In the not too distant future, so much of the music of the sixties and seventies is going to be forgotten. I’d like to keep it alive.
Last week’s podcast is about Gordon Lightfoot. I tell the story of meeting him at Canadian Music Week with my buddy Jake Gold, but really most of the podcast is taken up with stories of my family. Which you might not be interested in.
So, if you don’t care about me, download "Sundown", "If You Could Read My Mind", "The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald" and my new favorite, "Song For A Winter’s Night".
But if you want to hear about my father, listening to "Sundown" in his piece of shit Montego as he went into George’s drugstore, or, my trip to Duluth and Lake Superior, tune in.
All we’ve got is our stories. That’s what our lives are comprised of. The physical totems don’t ultimately mean much. Live in a big house, drive a Ferrari, your life is empty if you can’t sit down with your buddies and spin a yarn about how it used to be, how you became who you are.
About fifteen years ago, I lost my ability to tell my story. I didn’t think anybody was listening.
I’d like to tell you I’ve recovered, and that I’m an open book if you meet me. But that would be untrue. If you ask, if I truly feel you’re listening, maybe I can get started.
But I remember the days of yore. College. Around a campfire on Independence Pass, high above Aspen, Colorado. When I could reveal who I was, where I came from. Today, I only seem to be able to do it in writing. But on the way to Burbank about a month ago, "The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald" popped into my brain, and I got inspired. I laid my story down.
It’s more Spalding Gray than even Jim Ladd, never mind Ryan Seacrest. But if you listen, just imagine we’re in the hall of our dorm, before we’ve embarked on our path, before we’re tied up in our careers and families, sharing our stories.
Just go to the iTunes Music Store and search on "Lefsetz". You can subscribe to the Rhinocast there.
Meantime, I’m listening to "Song For A Winter’s Night"…
If I could know within my heart
That you were lonely too
Some people are aggressive. They put it out there. They hunt for prey, and maybe if you’re physically desirable enough, you get captured.
But what about the rest of us? Not so self-assured, not so confident? We have this deep yearning, to connect. But so fearful of rejection, we hold back. And stir in our loneliness.
But sometimes you sense something in another person. That interior monologue, that same desire to speak their mind, tell their stories. And you take a risk. And make the connection.
They call this love.
What you see celebrities doing on television, on TMZ, that’s pairing off, that’s not love. Love is a connection of the soul. A feeling that someone gets you, and wants to continue to get you.
We wait for this.
Meanwhile, we listen to music. We fall in love with songs, those who purvey them. Because these artists, they feel what we feel.
"SexyBack" might be a hit, but if it touches your soul, you’re a robot. That’s when this business got fucked up, when it became about the sheen, the exterior rather than the interior.
If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
You eventually get to a point where nothing needs to be said. The physical closeness, it generates a warmth, that you can depend on, like an animal.
But until you achieve that, it’s like being out in a snowstorm.
Gordon Lightfoot is singing from a house in the wilderness.
And I am too. I only hope that I inspire you to open up, and tell your stories, because, like I said, that’s all we’ve got.
I’m trying. You should too. Say what’s deep inside. You’ll be stunned at what might come back.
You can also get the podcast at: Rhino If you’re on a Mac, hold down the Control key when you click, to save to disk.