By Lawrence App, Also from The Dream of Separation Website.
Notes on the Music
Just a Beginning: I wrote this at the end of a long dry spell, agonizing to get some music out. Reminds me of the saying that “the first step is the hardest one we take on any journey.” All the mental gymnastics and doubt freezes simple action. The lyric refers to my own creative process but also some life changes I was reluctant to make. Musically, the tune modulates between three keys, never really settling on a tonic per se. It creates a cyclic restlessness that I like.
Green: This tune came to me suddenly almost all in one piece—quite a contrast to the previous song. Kinda sorry about the timing, as the term “green” is so trendy right now it seems like a marketing cliché. Oh well, this has nothing to do with that. In this context, the prevailing meaning of “green” is to be teachable, to be flexible and not so rigid in my beliefs. To me, it’s a very sweet tune—simple and full of wonder.
Spirit Tree: I wrote this song while camping on Cumberland Island, trying to make peace with myself and some family issues. The concept was inspired by the poetry of Rumi and I wanted a Persian feel to the music (I was listening to Radio Darvish every morning). As with a lot of these tunes, the music sounds deceptively simple but there’s a lot of odd chord things going on—more restlessness. It really about what happens after utter defeat and going to God/the Source/Whatever for solace.
Wash Him Down: I wrote this song for my father, Jimmy. I struggled for many years with my relationship to him, even after his death—wishing we had been closer but not wanting to become like him. During some powerful shamanistic-healing-therapy stuff, one day I had an opening and I finally got it: I felt like I could really see what his life was about, experience his pain, forgive him (and myself) and move on. This song is obviously written in allegory, but it’s about the wheel of samsara. It’s about the cycles of pain that we perpetuate in ourselves and pass along to our children. Billy and Big Al did such a great job on this tune. Thank you.
Sixty-Eight Eighty-Four: It’s the measurement of Mt. Mitchell, the highest point in the eastern US. This is probably the only “happy” tune on the album. Mitchell is only about 30 miles from my home in Asheville and it’s always been a special place for me. Some believe it’s a sacred point on the earth—I wouldn’t dispute it. So sad to see the balsam trees die off, on their way to extinction. This track was pretty much recorded live and I hope doesn’t sound too Methenyish. Lotsa chords and keys and rhythms and crazy stuff.
Roseanne’s Dream (part 2): It’s kinda crazy to release part 2 before part 1, but I’m just not ready to put part 1 out there yet. This tune is for my mother. She’s always been a great music lover—introduced me to many artists I still listen to today. Sadly, she’s been afflicted with dementia and lives in that twilight region of consciousness that is aware but just can’t quite connect it all anymore. I tried to musically capture something both sweet and sad, beautiful and eerie. The tune moves through several key centers but really isn’t in any key. It’s like a dangling, lost melody that never quite completes itself.
Loss and Separation: I wrote this song the day before sessions for recording The Dream were to begin. I’d just received a disturbing, hateful email from my daughter basically cementing our estrangement. I sat on the pillow trying to make sense of it all: the senseless anger, my own bewilderment and hurt feelings, the deep sense of sadness. I realized that this whole collection of songs is really about that experience. I remembered Ezra’s frequent reminders that these difficulties are our path and, though it’s not what I would have chosen, by just being with the sadness I gained a genuine sense of what I wanted to say with this album.
Nothin’ Sacred: There’s plenty of issues that need our help these days—energy, climate change, human rights, overpopulation, etc.—but the one that’s always hit closest for me is preservation of wilderness. This song, like “Green,” came to me all at once while I was driving down I-26. I saw where they had blasted the top off a hill to build yet another Best Buy-Target-Lowes shopping complex. I felt so sad and angry. When is enough, enough? Where will the madness end?
Gatha Walking: I owe this one to Ezra and Elizabeth. I was at a Zen retreat in Santa Rosa and we were given this verse to silently chant as we did walking meditation. For me, the easiest way to remember the verses was to create a little tune in my head. The song has four refrains, each one pointing to a different musical area. The cycle is North Africa, Turkey, Java, and India. The arrangements are hopefully capture the flavor of these areas but are not intended to be completely accurate.
This last section of three tunes on The Dream is composed of older tunes that I either reworked or completed for this album.
Coldly: I wrote this in 1972 when I was 16, slightly reworking the lyrics a few years ago. I don’t know why I never recorded this piece; never even wrote it down. It seems to fit in with the theme of The Dream nicely. Even though it’s a fairly simple tune, it’s interesting that I was using 9th and 11th chords before I even knew what they were. BTW, the string quartet is only samples—sorry. Pretty nice ones though.
Timeless: Wrote this one in ’87 at the height of my reggae phase, but it was too much of a downer to mix in a Windjammer project. It still seems pretty relevant: I don’t see much relief from life’s hectic pace or my use of time, but I hope I have a better sense of what’s really important than I did 20 years ago.
Into Night: This is one of those tunes I really didn’t want to write. It’s just too painful and personal. I probably started on it 15 years ago and put it down countless times, only to have its ugly head reared up saying “remember me?” It’s a composite of experiences all with the common theme of going back to reconcile something—a relationship, a move—but never finding closure. It’s like the only thing harder than saying good-bye is not saying good-bye. So maybe getting this tune out is my way of making peace with all life’s unfinished business.
Special Bonus: If you got as far as the “bonus hidden track” then you already know what it is and why it’s there.
