At 82 years young, Judy Collins used poetry that she had written and collected over the years to create an album of original songs named Spellbound. She used the isolation of the Covid Pandemic to write and perfect the music.
“Spellbound” broke new ground because it was the first album Judy Collins produced in her six decade career that contained all original songs. This is a remarkable achievement for someone who had made her name mostly by singing and playing cover songs from recording artists she admired.
The first song on “Spellbound” is titled “When I Was a Girl in Colorado.” I’ve changed it to “A Boy In Colorado.” In words and music, the song conveys a picture of the artist when she moved with her family to Denver, Colorado from Seattle, Washington as a young girl in 1949.
The song’s lyrics hearken back to the natural beauty of “rivers dancing on canyon walls,” “blooming paintbrush flowers,” and “bluebirds in the pine trees.” These images reflect Judy’s deep love for the wilderness, which at one point in her early life almost led her to become a park ranger.
Here’s my cover. Drop me a line if you feel moved to do so.
“Talking In Your Sleep” is not exactly a happy song. I chose it for the guitar background and the melody, both of which I find quite beautiful. I’m a long-time fan of Gordon Lightfoot, and I’ve covered many of his songs on this blog. However, this song is not as well known as many of Lightfoot’s others, and I hadn’t listened to it in decades. But the song kept popping up on the Pandora stations I’ve been listening to lately, and it captured my attention immediately.
“Talking In Your Sleep” is a touching, country-folk song written and performed by the Canadian singer-songwriter. Reprise Records released the song in 1971 on Gordon’s 6th album, Summerside of Life. It became a moderate hit, reaching #64 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 Charts and #19 on the Canadian RPM charts. In case you were wondering, RPM stands for the title of a popular Canadian music trade journal called Records, Promotion, Music.
Moderate hit or not, “Talking In Your Sleep” rings my doorbell. I hope it will ring yours as well. My mentor, Jerry Lamberth, calls it “a wonderful song,” and one of the first lessons he posted on his site, Jerry’s Guitar Bar. With Jerry’s tutelage, I’m playing the song close to Lightfoot’s original.
Townes Van Zandt’s life touched mine only tangentially until recently. I first heard of Van Zandt through Nanci Griffith’s cover of his song “Tecumseh Valley.” Like many Van Zandt ballads, it tells a tragic and beautifully melodic story about a woman named Caroline. “Techumseh Valley” is about a life, a time, and a place far from the life I’ve led. Yet, it’s a song I’ll never forget. Although Van Zandt never became a big name in the music world during his career, it is because of the depth, emotion, and poignancy of songs like “Tecumseh Valley” that the singer and songwriter is remembered and celebrated today, almost thirty years after his death.
There are two more Van Zandt songs that have really touched me. They are “If I Needed You” and “Pancho and Lefty.” I’m covering “Pancho and Lefty” here. “If I Needed You” will arrive in the near future.
The ending of a love relationship is often painful and dramatic. In “Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye,” Leonard Cohen has penned a poetic plea for a graceful, respectful breakup that honors the beauty of a dying connection, rather than dwelling on the pain, anger, and lingering regret of the ending.
Cohen wrote the song in 1966 on a decrepit bed in the Penn Terminal Hotel in Midtown Manhattan. In 1967, Judy Collins, who became Cohen’s good friend, recorded the song for her album Wildflowers. The following month, Cohen’s own version was released on his debut album, Songs of Leonard Cohen.
Cohen described the song as “a moment of clarity in the middle of a love affair’s end.” He also explained, “It’s about acknowledging that love changes but doesn’t truly die. The bodies may part, but the connection remains in the light and the words left behind.”
While introducing “Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye” during his 1976 Live at Montreux performance, Cohen memorably said: “As you eastern metaphysicians know, just as from the darkest mud blooms the whitest lotus, so from the brownest hotel room you occasionally get a good song.”
Playing heartfelt, beautiful songs like this one juices me up. Enjoy these cover versions.
In his thirties, Leonard Cohen wrote novels, poetry, and the occasional song. These were his passions, and he hoped to make a living at them. Unfortunately, at this early stage in his career, Cohen realized these passions couldn’t support him. Most people at this point would, with a heavy heart and great disappointment, turn to a more mundane and practical way to make a living. Not Leonard. He decided to earn his way with another one of his loves: Country Music. Along the way, Cohen had taught himself to play the acoustic guitar.
It should be noted that most successful singer-songwriters begin to hone their musical talents from the ages of somewhere between five and twelve. Again, not Leonard. It should also be noted that the decade-long eruption of folk music from the early sixties to the early seventies had passed Cohen by, largely unnoticed. In other words, Cohen’s chances of a successful music career were less than his chances in the literary arts. People laughed at his hubris.
Now, here’s the interesting part. I will refer to my experiences with my father to illustrate the point I’m going to make. My father was a very successful businessman. I once asked him, “What is the secret of your success?” In his typical manner, he gave me a short answer: “In my early thirties,” he said, “I found out that I had the goods.” Translated, that means my dad discovered that he had the talent in spades to build companies and make money.
Okay, let’s go back to Leonard Cohen. On his way to Nashville, Cohen stopped in New York. There, someone introduced him to Judy Collins. What are the odds of a no-name like Leonard Cohen meeting a rising star like Miss Collins? I’d say at least 28 million to one. Unless there is another factor at play. And here’s what I believe. Because Leonard Cohen inherently “had the goods,” he met Judy Collins, and they became good friends. Eventually, Collins brought her friend’s work to the attention of a record label. In time, Cohen became a household name and an internationally known recording artist. Leonard Cohen, whether he knew it or not, had a remarkable musical talent. He had what it took to be a star.
And what I’ve discovered is that you can’t force it. Yes, it takes hard work to hone your talent, but don’t expect to be the 1% unless you are the 1%.
At some point, one has to accept whether or not one has “the goods.” I dreamed of becoming a widely read author. It never happened, but I’ve mellowed about it. I enjoy writing my little books that are read by my little audience. I never dreamed of reaching a broad audience with my music. But that has happened. It takes an effort, and I enjoy it almost as much as writing. I guess the moral of the story is to enjoy what you do if you are following your heart, and most importantly, don’t worry about the results.
Please enjoy my covers of Leonard’s beautiful song, Suzanne.
In this song, Cat Stevens is singing to a woman he yearns for in a Human form. On another level, he may be singing, aware or unaware, to the Divine Feminine. In either case, the object of Stevens’ love is unattainable in the present. Yet, I believe, the admirer (Stevens) continues to yearn for his beloved in the hope that he will, one day, meet his perfect love, in either or both Human and Divine forms.
There are many interpretations of “How Can I Tell You.” In my view, the song is hopeful rather than despairing. However one interprets “How Can I Tell you,” I feel the song is filled with incredible beauty that cannot help but shine through.
Stevens first met Alun Davies as a backup musician in a recording session. He liked what he heard. After another session, Stevens recognized that Davies was an exceptional talent. In a following private session, Stevens played something like fifty of his original songs for Davies, whereupon Davies decided Cat was also an exceptional talent. He agreed to accompany Stevens on an upcoming tour. After the tour, Davies became Stevens’ permanent 2nd guitar until Stevens stopped playing music with his conversion to Islam in 1977. When Stevens began performing again in 2003, the two artists reunited.
Here is a new version of “How Can I Tell You” with me playing and singing Davies’ now famous second guitar part.
Have you heard of Steve Gillette? If you were alive in the 1960s and liked folk music, there’s a chance the name rings a bell. Gillette never reached the top of the charts, but he’s a very talented singer/songwriter. Many of his songs have been performed by artists you have heard of, including John Denver, Gordon Lightfoot, Ian and Sylvia, Nanci Griffith, and Linda Ronstadt.
“The Bells in the Evening” appears on Gillette’s debut album, released in 1967. The album, simply titled “Steve Gillette,” stands as one of Steve’s finest recordings. “The Bells” is a bittersweet (actually sweet-bitter) song of love blossoming in the spring and fading away in the fall. I find the melody and lyrics deeply moving. Perhaps you will, too. The song is also replete with imagery. When you listen, what images come to your mind?
I’ve revisited “The Bells of the Evening,” adding a new background track by Giovanni Egusquista. Here’s my cover.
“Bells In The Evening” With Backup Instrumentation
Many of Yusuf/Cat Stevens’ songs convey underlying messages about childhood and the relationships between children and adults, such as ‘Father & Son’ and ‘Oh Very Young,’ to name a few. “Where Do the Children Play?” is no exception. It becomes increasingly timely with each passing day, given the environmental crisis we are facing.
The song refers to the destruction of natural spaces caused by overdevelopment and industrialization. It asks a fundamental question: What future awaits our children when the spaces where they play are increasingly paved over and polluted?
“Where Do The Children Play” prompts us to consider the inherent features of the ‘progress’ we are making, as well as Humanity’s impact on planet Earth. Essentially, this beautiful and simple song begs for a balanced relationship between Human Beings and nature.
Typical of a Cat Stevens song, the rhythm is quite unique. Here’s my cover.
Far from old age, Cat Stevens wrote “Oh Very Young” when he was twenty-five. The wisdom in the song surpasses Stevens’ chronology with lines like, “You’re only dancin’ on this Earth for a short while.” Stevens contracted tuberculosis when he was nineteen, and it almost killed him. After that experience, Stevens kept an eye on the Big Picture.
Always the explorer, Stevens sought the meaning and purpose of life, as illustrated in his songs like “On the Road to Find Out.” He eventually converted to Islam in 1977. Around the same time, he permanently left the world stage as a singer and songwriter. In his relatively short career, Cat Stevens left us with a body of music that is still relevant today and, to millions around the world, extremely enjoyable.
Originally, I played this song using a picking method, and then I switched to strumming. I watched a video of Stevens performing the song with a strumming method. I thought, I’ll never be able to play it that fast. To my amazement, I wound up playing the song as fast as Stevens when I strummed it. Interesting. Here’s my cover.
In case you’re interested, here’s the finger-picked version.
Jackson Browne’s guitar techniques, lyrics, and melodies stand apart from the crowd. What he says through his music is sometimes searing, sad, and occasionally, happy. However, all of Browne’s songs have something in common: an incredible sensitivity and beauty.
Browne wrote “These Days” when he was only sixteen years old. Despite his youth, Browne demonstrated a keen sense of heartbreak. I’m not sure how a sixteen-year-old could feel the depth of emotion and remorse expressed in this song. If we assume Jackson experienced and gave voice to the words and tone of “These Days,” then he was wise beyond his years and deeply rooted in himself from early on.
The song had its first release when a protégé of Andy Warhol named Nico picked it up on her “Chelsea Girl” album. Brown played acoustic guitar in the background. “These Days” gained wider recognition when several artists subsequently covered it.
Brown eventually released his version of the song in 1973 on the album “For Everyman.” He rewrote “These Days” to make it more optimistic. In his own words, Jackson remembers, “Over the rest of my teenage years and into my 20s, I developed a kind of optimism, a kind of resoluteness, so I changed [one verse] to: ‘I’ll keep on moving, keep improving.’ That’s more to me what life is made of, the idea that I’ll get through this, I’ll continue looking.”
I’ve always wanted to play this song the way Jackson Browne does. Thanks to my friend Jerry Lambert, I can now do it. Here’s my cover.
Heart Banter by David Gittlin 