Song #19 The Last Wave

 

THE LAST WAVE

 

Give me some green fields

Some green fields of home

Green fields of anywhere

The seven hills of Rome

The city that took me stronger than storm

Where I refound my saviour

But I was love lost and worn

 

We’re comin’ in on the last wave

We’re comin’ in on the last wave

 

Besuited and clean cut

They stand at my door

Charmed by a light

As bright as the dawn

With charming ideas naïve in extreme

Fairies in the garden

Are not what they seem

 

They’re comin’ in on the last wave

We’re comin’ in on the last wave

 

Mother Earth quakes at the sound of our roar

But battles on bravely

If you open the door

So just let her in as Rome continues to burn

With the oil of Mohammed’s men

It’s once again their turn

 

They’re comin’ in on the last wave

Are we comin’ in on the last wave?

We’re comin’ in on the last wave

 

There’s a man with his finger

On the nuclear button

We’ve lost it, we’ve sold out

We’re a race of gluttons

 

They’re comin’ in on the last wave

Are we comin’ in on the last wave?

We’re comin’ in on the last wave

 

Copyright Michael Coghlan 1980

Commentary

My end of the world moment. (It was the eighties!) Sprinkled with references to religion (Rome, Mormons, Mohammed) and a long tale that needs to be told one day in another format.

I used to really enjoy playing this song in a duo with Jeff Witt. I think we actually called ourselves The Last Wave for a while. Quite anthemic but its time has passed.

 

Song #18 Foreign Coastlines

FOREIGN COASTLINES

(average recording with slides)

 

You stand there insulting the people who love you

You don’t understand that they like to be near you

So why do you keep on destroying the scenery

With pointless descriptions of times far away – far away from here?

If you’re still living there

Then why are you standing here

On this cliff of the poet

Why don’t you just blow it away: this dream of yours?

 

So you’re caught in the storm of a foreign coastline

Do you have to keep telling me that you’ve seen other places?

Do you have to keep telling me that those other people were fine?

Just who are you talking to? I don’t think it’s me

Just who are you talking to? I don’t think it’s me or mine

 

No thank you mister I don’t like gems

I’m sick and tired of your goddamn gems

Why do you talk to me when I want to be alone on the hill?

 

I go on insulting the people who love me

I don’t understand that they want to be near me

So why do I keep on destroying the scenery

With tear-jerking memories of times far away  - far away from here?

She’s there; not fair.

Copyright Michael Coghlan 1980

Commentary

Written on the Isle of Wight, and inspired by a fellow Australian who walked with me along the coast talking incessantly about all the other great places he'd visited! Also includes some interesting messages to self, and still missing my long lost love The poet referred to is Tennyson who lived in the region for 40 years. Originally written and sung in a very high vocal register which is beyond me now so have recently rearranged it in a lower key. The song has stood the test of time pretty well.

 

 

Song #17 Welcome to the Eighties

I think this was the first time I wrote a song for a specific purpose. I was playing at Gingers on New Year's Eve, 1979, and wanted to have a new song to celebrate the passing of the 70s and the arrival of the 80s. It's a mixture of nonsense and serious ideas that tried to encapsulate some of the significant themes and trends of the time. It was the kernel of a good song but like so many others I didn't ever take the time to refine it. It had quite a pleasant, upbeat rocky feel.

WELCOME TO THE EIGHTIES

 

Welcome to the eighties: it’s been a little shaky

Makin’ it this far and seeing the seventies out

No matter how you’re feeling your head may still be reelin’

It’s been 16 years since Twist and Shout

The Beatles never did reform; police still wear uniform

It’s even more the age of “complete this form please”

 

Will the pie carts go stereo, computers steal your radio?

Talk to friends on video?

Silicon chippio; space shuttle it’s a go

Will you work out where you want to go?

We haven’t seen the last of Mexico

 

Doom and catastrophe, will interstellar geography

Be within the reach of the simple man?

If the awesome brand new eighties features such a creature

If the awesome brand new eighties features such a creature

 

Peace, love and happiness, or peace, love and syphilis?

Or dole bludgin’ blues in an urban slum?

Queueing up forever buying cheque-fulls of sun

Queueing up forever buying cheque-fulls of fun

Queueing up forever buying cheque-fulls of glum?

 

 

Tricky Dicky Nixon and smilin’ Jimmy Carter

Darling Maggie Thatcher – Big Jim couldn’t catch here

Dear old Mother England has lost her way

Sone quit and rested; others were arrested

Making mega buck-ups the political way

Vietnam, Afghanistan, the Middle East and Africa

Iran, Pakistan, Uganda, Kampuchea

What’s there to say?

 

Electronic pinball; Tommy’s gone to Rollerdrome

Can’t escape those neon lights, there’s a moog in every home

 Windy Hill by laser light; casinos take your dollars right?

They’re all run by UFOs on eastern mystic guru might

Buddha, Hare Krishna, praise the Lord and Allah

Will the 1980s please tell us just who the hell is right?

 

Well if you’re confused then join the club

Join me on a flight to Sirius tonight

If you’re confused then join the club

Join me on a flight to Sirius tonight

                                     to Sirius tonight

                                     to Sirius tonight

It’s too serious tonight.

 

Copyright  31/12/79

 

 

 

Alone in Lincoln

 

I had not been back to Port Lincoln on my own as an adult since I lived there as a child. I have been back with my wife and children, my brother, and on several work trips – but never alone. And I discovered that when you return alone to a place where you have an intense personal connection the experience is much more personal. You’re not trying to filter out the inconsequential memories for the sake of the company you’re with; not trying to stop deep reservoirs of emotion welling up from within. You can explore without fear of embarrassment all the silly memories that occur as you retrace your footsteps from long ago; follow the random threads of memory as they pop up – triggered by turning a corner, standing on a wharf or jetty, or seeing something you had long forgotten. So, driving and roaming the streets of Lincoln this time around was an unexpectedly strong emotional experience.

I re-enacted the walk we used to take to school every day. It took me 13 minutes at adult dawdling speed to get from our old home to the school gate so one can assume that it took at least 15 minutes each way. And halfway along the route is a major intersection with a busy highway and no traffic lights or pedestrian crossing. No doubt it is busier these days but it would still have required a level of trust from our parents to allow me and my young brother (aged 5 and 7) to negotiate that intersection twice a day.

Port Lincoln is such a lovely place. A huge sheltered harbour, a calm safe beach in the centre of town, a delightful main street, a large functioning port with big ships that is accessible to the public, stunning coastal landscapes within an hour’s drive, and a marina chock full of yachts and a large fishing fleet. I will be eternally grateful to my parents for moving there and offering me 5 years of childhood freedom. I think my young brother and I got the best of this move to the country. We were both still in primary school and simply relished the joy of riding our bikes around town, going fishing on the town jetty, and playing in the scrub on vacant lots near where we lived. Or we could play football or cricket in our own vast backyard which we converted into mini cricket or football fields depending on the season. My older siblings had other things on their mind – the pressures of high school and the dating game. I got the best of both worlds: a child’s paradise for my primary school years and back to the city for a better education and immersion in a more expansive cultural landscape for my teen years.

After 50 plus years I still feel a sense of great joy and calm every time I go back to Lincoln. I fill with the glow of happy memories and a sense of belonging. It still feels like my place.

 

Song #16 Images

 

IMAGES

 

If images tell the story

Hiding behind their screen

Are people with open hearts likely to win?

 

If their truth is bottled

In receptacles of caution

Awaiting any future holocaust

 

As children’s eyes beam

And dog tongues do slobber

So do adult eyes cry

 

For simple understanding

The right to express emotion

About the years to come

 

A rolling stone capitulates

As the holy book warns

Prophets are venerated as a new source of bliss

 

A world views its ransom

The animal in us is winning

Must we now be stripped of our clothes?

 

Is it time to answer our hearts?

Do cliches follow cliches?

Creating their own?

 

1979

 

Commentary

In truth I don’t know what this is about but I have a few clues. Clearly I had been doing some thinking! I might leave the meaning to the critics 😊 Written more as a poem than song lyrics, nevertheless there is a melody that I still remember and is quite therapeutic to play.

Song #15 Picking Up the Holy Pieces

 

PICKING UP THE HOLY PIECES

 

See the ant climb up the wall

I know you’re back but that ain’t all

I lost my sanity in a squall of peace and quiet once before

When you walked out the door

You went looking for war

 

With anything you could get your hands on

I hope you forgive me if you think I’m wrong

Just be careful you’re not riding far too high when you fall

You might have to cry

Your pride might die

 

See the ant climb up the wall

Escaping the shell as the building falls

But like the hurricane that rages round my brain it has to die

Crumble and fall

Crumble, wither and fall

 

                I’m picking up pieces of three years ago

                And I’ve come to say hello

                I’ve come to say hello

 

                I travelled down south to your no longer land

                Where you’ve buttered someone else’s bread

                While you raised that land from the dead

 

                The people who live there have wandered for years

    Now they’re ripping off tourists and playing their fears

    As they sputter down highways and look for the gears

 

    Ten Golden Rule mountain stands centre of all

    Moses has gone; his reputation is tall

    While some are still counting just how many rules he gave us

    To help us along the way

 

    Well I’ve picked up the pieces of three years ago

                I feel like it’s time to cry

    I’ve picked up the pieces of three years ago

    I’ve come to say goodbye

                I feel like it’s time to cry

    I’ve come to say goodbye

    I’ve come to say goodbye

(1979)

Commentary

I wrote this when I finally got back to Israel. Reading over these lyrics again has reminded me of just how big an impression Israel made on me. Someone once suggested that I may have lived there in a previous life but I think it has more to do with my Catholic upbringing and my love of desert landscapes. I felt very at home there. I was once very proud of this song - in which I'm clearly glad to be back there but worried about the direction she was heading. I now find my love of Israel at the time uncomfortable to explain. Some interesting use of metaphor here and some of it a bit clunky! I stopped playing the song long ago when I became disillusioned with Israel and don't remember how it went.

 

 

ADELAIDE BORN

 At about 1 min .32 sec you'll see why I've posted this. 

Around 1990 I decided to enter a talent show on a morning TV program called Touch of Elegance. (God knows why!!) I remember enjoying the experience and was pleased that I'd managed to perform the song live without any major dramas.

I was given a copy of my performance on video cassette but I lost it somewhere along the way. I'd virtually forgotten that it had ever happened until yesterday when out of the blue comes this message from ex TAFE colleague, Peter Allen, via Facebook messenger. What Peter was looking for when he found this is yet to be revealed. Peter - care to share??

Anyway - as I said - hard to believe I was ever that young, but very happy to relive this brief moment in the public eye. Thanks Peter :)

LISTEN TO THE WHOLE SONG HERE

Song #14 Life Upon the Skyways

 

LIFE UPON THE SKYWAYS

 

I’m sitting in a journey from armchair to armchair

And as I gaze across the street I feel I’ve got something to say

I’d like to float upon the skyways

To a land across the Dreamtime

To another land of desert that’s the home of the Jew

Who find it hard to smile as I do here today

With each day that life that grows longer

Who’s lost along the way?

 

Some have chosen to stay home; others wandered far

In these past few months I’ve seen them go

And I wonder how they are

It makes life upon the home front just a little bit harder

I walk the streets for the old times

But there’s none to be found

Like the seas around a mountain, it’s time against my spirit

Must one accept with resignation

That the gloom’s too tough

                                   Too tough to beat

 

I was feeling outnumbered so I got numbered out

The room was full of these strange lonely faces and mine

The earth goes on circling

Through the good times and bad times

It happened before and it will do again

 

These words that I’ve had to say raise up a smile

For the answer is simple – win, lose, or draw

The joy is in the telling; it’s in the trudging of highways

There are choices before you

It’s life upon the skyways

The answer is simple – not black, not white, but grey

The answer is simple – it’s up this way and grey

It’s up this way today

Come on this way today

Come on this way, up this way

And pray

 

1978

COMMENTARY 

Around the time that I wrote this song there was an American singer called Captain Beefheart. He and his Magic Band released a song called Moonbeams and Blue Jeans that I really liked and I intentionally decided to use the song’s melody for these lyrics. This was the one and only time I did this but essentially I plagiarised the Captain Beefheart song. I never recorded it and I didn’t really ever try and pass it off as mine. I still know how to play it and like the way it sounds 😊 Obviously I was still pining for Israel…..

Song #13 Banana Skins and Incense

 

At about the age of 14 I was sitting at the back of the bus on the way home from school talking with friends about what ‘mellow yellow’ meant. I was told it meant the high you got from smoking banana skins! Ten years later Donovan, writer of the hit song, Mellow Yellow, performed at Adelaide’s Apollo Stadium. Around the same time Grateful Dead performed a concert alongside the pyramids at Giza.

This song compares aspects of the two concerts.  I’m not sure I believe this now that I come to write it, but I have always said this was the only song I had ever written that took as long to write as it takes to play it. That is, it just popped out organically as a finished product. It couldn’t have been that quick but I do remember it happened very quickly and with little effort. And I still consider it a fine song. Rare for songs to just come put like that.

And 24 year old Michael thought he was getting old … ha!

 

BANANA SKINS AND INCENSE

(Listen HERE)

Mellowing in my old age

Donovan sure had it won

Sitting up there on a bed of flowers

Apollo Stadium looks and cowers at his beauty

The critics they canned him while others they loved him

I just sat on the fence

Remembering dreams and talk about burning

Banana skins and incense

Banana skins and incense

Had a hit and got high

Got as high as a kite

I’m going to Itchycoo Park tonight

Where the Small Faces are knocking out ballads

Little tin soldiers and all

 

But life in the classroom ain’t bad

I’m viewing the wonders of Giza

Grateful Dead under a full bright moon

Jerry Garcia saying, “I’ll tell you soon what happened there”

When he knows!

The critics they weren’t there while others they loved it

I read it in Rolling Stone

And I had a dream and did some burning of

Banana skins and incense

Banana skins and incense

Had a hit and got high

Got as high as a kite

I’m putting away my strings for the night

‘Cos Itchycoo Park would be far too cold

And after all we’re getting old.

 

(Copyright Michael Coghlan 1978)

Song #12 A Pebble in the Ocean

 

I did sing this as a song for a short time but whatever tune belonged to it has long gone. Reads more like a poem now and I was obviously trying to say something meaningful using a sustained sea metaphor. I suspect I was also being deliberately oblique trying to disguise something that I didn’t want to be too obvious but I don’t remember what it may have been 😊

 

A PEBBLE IN THE OCEAN

 

I’ll drop a pebble in the ocean

And if you’re near please just wave

Smile and be buffeted

And I’ll ride your sweet return

 

If you’d rather make a storm

Just send a warning sign

And I’ll float on over to mine

It may be choppy but it’s warm

 

Stars are like people

Both shine and lead us astray

Provide light and comfort

Through both the night and day

 

But it’s night time that storms

The peace and the calm away

When disparate lovers play

While others can only dream

 

The dark of night gives rest and solace

The dark of night disturbs the ripples

Of honest understanding

And lost misunderstanding

 

Join waves; make slaves

Remember the knave of bondage

You’re an island, part of the sea

Please just let us all be.

1978

 

Bengal Tiger At The Baghdad Zoo - Review

Little Theatre, The Cloisters, University Of Adelaide, Thu 14 May.

Presented by Adelaide University Theatre Guild

The Iraq war was a descent into madness – a war based on fabricated evidence of weapons of mass destruction that did not exist. The absurdly named Coalition Of The Willing, Australia amongst them, waded into a war that created a hell that helped unleash Al-Quaeda, the Islamic state, and a host of other miseries upon the Iraqi people. It is in this hell that Rajiv Joseph sets his award-winning play. We view events through the eyes of American soldiers, Iraqi civilians, the son of Saddam Hussein, and the ghost of a tiger that has escaped the Baghdad zoo.

The dialogue is laced with dark humour as we watch the soldiers lose their sanity, limbs and the crass souvenirs of war that they hold dear. The military presence brings nothing but misery to Iraqi civilians. Musa, a local Iraqi gardener played by Nigel Tripodi, initially tries to gain from employment as an interpreter but ultimately despairs at the foreigners’ stupidity and lack of sensitivity towards their customs and culture.

The play’s telling irony is that the most intelligent and aware character in the play is an animal’s ghost. Only he, played with great presence by David Grybowski (looking suspiciously like a crazy Spike Milligan) sees the pathos and tragedy of innocent lives being lost as a city burns, the layers of sadness, and the pointlessness of the conflict.

Oliver de Rohan effectively portrays marine Kev’s personal descent into madness. His soldier mate Tom (Adam Tuominen) is played with just the right amount of bluster and bravado befitting the stereotypical profile of an American Marine before he too is forced to face his own fallibility staring into the eyes of a leper.

Multiple short scenes keep the pacing lively. Carefully chosen musical interludes between scenes reinforce the growing sense of futility. The set and staging is visually engaging and everyone is close to the action within the Little Theatre.

While the take home message of this production may be on the bleak side, the play itself is entertaining and a touch eccentric. It’s a good combination supported by a strong cast, an impressive set, and enlightened direction by Nick Fagan.

(Also published on The Clothesline.)

Song #11 Don't Judge Man

DON’TJUDGE MAN 

People livin’ with each other

People fightin’ with each other

Some of us learn from the people around us

Others just fix ‘emselves to the wall

 

Got to learn to forgive others’ sins

And never ever judge them so

Our sins, their sins

Ain’t you ever been around a man who’s down?

 

CHORUS

Don’t judge man

But don’t man judge

Don’t judge man

But don’t man judge

 

Travellin’ lightly

Hittin’ so lightly on the nerve

Of the walls that we cast around us

Building our own little world

 

CHORUS

 

Alright I’d better go now

Alright I’d better go now

Before I get burned

By a world I sometimes just don’t understand

 

Copyright 1978

Footnote:

I was never really sure about this song. It’s built around a riff rather than a tune or  melody but some people really liked it. Only now as I resurrect it do I finally accept that it is indeed a fine song! You can hear it HERE.  (Thank you Rob Childs for the encouragement.)

 

 

Song #10 Armageddon

 I fell in love with Israel in 1976. I went back there for a shorter stint on Kibbutz Gevim late in 1978. I think that is where most of this song was written. I was obviously feeling very defensive about people discussing Israel as the seat and cause of Armageddon and hoped another better fate awaited her.

Israel has changed a great deal since 1978. I no longer nurture much hope for a positive outcome to their problems. Generations of hate on both sides of the conflict have soured all hopes of reconciliation.

This song had a very limited ‘live’ life. Another song that was not given enough love or time.

 

ARMAGEDDON

 

I see no reason for Armageddon

I think you’re wrong

See the rivers of Babylon

That my dreams float on

 

Green hills before me

Birds singing in the creek bed

Land of our fathers

Giving us trouble and strife

 

They have wandered far and wide

Back to their home

They turned the desert into spring

From a mountain sea

 

Blue skies smile down

The world seems peaceful to me

A strong wind calls back

Answers my joy with a plea

 

It sees no reason for Armageddon

If we don’t take sides

There is no reason for Armageddon

If we don’t take sides

 

But that land won’t leave me

These old homes bring it all back

The fear and the anguish

The love and the beauty still there

 

Brown eyes and dark skin

Yellow land in love and war

There is no reason for Armageddon

If we don’t take sides

I think you’re wrong

 

1978

Song #9 On the Ground and Five Miles High

 

ON THE GROUND AND FIVE MILES HIGH

 

Baby you turn my heart around

Help me get my feet back on the ground

I’ve been here in this same old town

Watchin’ and waitin’ for you to come on down

I suit your delightful air

When I wake in the morning

And think “what shall I wear?”

Oohoo you’re putting me on

You make me think that I love you

But you could be wrong

 

But maybe this time it was my own doing

I flew in dead tired on a commuter jet

Good feelings shared at both ends of the set

Contributing to the final ruin

Contributing to the final ruin

 

CHORUS

Smiles and heartache on that same sunny morning

Saw me gone out the back door when the moon was dawning

Smiles and heartache on that same sunny morning

Saw me gone out the back door when the moon was dawning

Da da da dum da da da

Da da da dum da da da   da da da daah …..

 

Five miles high with clouds a-driftin’

Dull and grey in tune with my heart

I stayed too long;  just two fateful days

Meant tears of sadness turned into joy

I suit your delightful air

When I wake in the morning

And think “what shall I wear?”

Oohoo you’re putting me on

You make me think that I love you

But you could be wrong

 

CHORUS

 

I enjoyed being up there will you ever come down?

I enjoyed being up there will you ever come down?

 

1977 

Footnote:

Clearly back in the dating game! Think this may be a mash-up of two or more short lived relationships. I seem to have moved from being intensely lonely to being hard to get! It was never a regular in my repertoire – it needed fine tuning and I never gave it the time.

Song #8 Border Lights

 

BORDER LIGHTS

 

I can see them border lights

It means I’m halfway home

From the grey skies and dirty streets

Of good old Melbourne town

Out here the starlights

And the shape of the trees

Go on forever

 

Sitting by the jukebox

At the edge of town

With roadhouse cool he tells me

There’s nothing goin’ down

In this hick town

He’s at the end of his tether

 

I couldn’t handle his distance

And his vacant eyes

Masking his friendly face

With an evil disguise

So I walked out the door

That leads to forever

 

Three years later it’s Bordertown again

And I’m a-steppin’ out into the night

I crossed the road with my cap in my hand

Said soldier, “will you give me a ride?”

He said, “Sonny I’ve killed people for less than that.”

Then he smiled and then said “alright”.

 

Copyright Michael Coghlan 1977

1977 – back in Australia. Back on the familiar hitchhiking run between Adelaide and Melbourne. Based on real events from several long waits for rides in Bordertown. Still stands the test of time as quite a reasonable song IMO. And at last I’m no longer just writing about love lost angst!

Song #7 From Loneliness to Home

 

More bleating about being alone. I do remember feeling lonely for a very long time but it’s tiresome to track this ongoing theme decades later! 1976 - still in England but clearly going home soon and looking forward to it. Already picturing flying in over Adelaide “nestled between the hills and the sea.”

I can still play this song – it’s still in the memory. Not a bad tune actually – sounds much better than it reads 😊

 

FROM LONELINESS TO HOME

I never thought I’d feel this alone

And I’ve got to say that I – I want home

I’m on my own – it’s happened again

But I’m not one to stand around and cry

You can wait a long time till the tears are dry

So I’ll take to the air for the journey home

 

See see my home town

See see my home town

Nestled between the hills and the sea

Safe and secure like my dreams and me

 

I’ve been here so long I don’t know what’s going on

Sitting her watchin’ and thinkin’ ‘bout not much at all

Wonderin’ if I’m the only one

Who wonders why the sun goes down

And comes up again at dawn

 

I’ve been here too long – I don’t know what’s going on

1976

Song #6 Wanderin' Around

I’m now in England. I’m still feeling lonely and as I backtrack down this memory lane it’s clear that the break-up with my first real girlfriend had a huge impact on me. Two years on and I’m still dreaming I might bump into her on the other side of the world.

But this song also reveals how being in the UK sparked something inside of me and I start to contemplate the fact that somehow or rather I’m connected to ‘this rainy, windy, land.”

Though the song was written in England the ending may have been added when I was back in Australia. I stayed away for 14 months.

Interestingly this is the oldest song that I still play so it has stood the test of time. Very much a folk song with obvious influence from the English folk tradition. And I’d learnt to pick! 

 

WANDERIN’ AROUND (Listen HERE)

I wandered around in the great outdoors

Met a lover who was past dead and gone

Found a stone and carved my name

Thought a lady may pass there alone

 

Starlit night and a rock’n’rollin’ beat

The trees go wilting in the night

People danced while others drank and sang

It was cold and a Saturday night

 

CHORUS

While the sun looked down

Knockin’ you up town

To the pub, or a beach, or a lady’s arms

And you stroll over surf in your surfboard dreams

And never gave a thought to nature’s harms

 

In the eyes of the world

You’re a child gone astray

But your only concern was today

Walked on strong while feelin’ insecure

You’re just home – things are lookin’ newer

 

Take it in and sus it all about

Your accent’s showing and it’s pure

English, Welsh, and Irish in there too

If only those Celts has been fewer

 

With their crosses and their reels

And their stubborn present pride

It’s not easy to tell how you feel

You sprung from these people in this rainy windy land

Think I’ll float home on the next high tide

 

CHORUS

Where the sun looks down

Knockin’ you up town

To the pub, or a beach, or a lady’s arms

And you stroll over surf in your surfboard dreams

And never gave a thought to nature’s harms

 

In the eyes of the world

You’re a child gone astray

But your only concern was today

Walked on strong while feelin’ insecure

You’re just home – things are lookin’ newer

You’re just home – things are lookin’ newer

You’re just home – things are lookin’ newer

 

Copyright Michael Coghlan 1976

 

 

 

 

Song #5 I'll Never Write

 

 

A bit cringeworthy really, but in the interests of full disclosure: I obviously went to the trouble of typing this up many years ago so I must have thought it worthwhile back then. I think I played it in C#m and referred to it as “The C#m Song” in the years I played it live.

I’m clearly still trying to leave the memory of someone behind… but that someone keeps entering those vacant moments when I was alone …. 

I’LL NEVER WRITE 

I took a long time to write

I took a long time to call

You know it’s because I love you

I’ve been thinkin’ of you all day long girl

Sitting here at this window staring out to sea

 

I keep dreaming of you – you, me, us

Wondering why we ever parted

What I think is not what happened

Why don’t we just get together and thrash it all out again?

 

We’ll see who’s right

We’ll see who’s wrong

Already I know it’s best left dead

 

So I’ll never write and I’ll never call

Another time another place and another space

When time has done its work

And I can see your face and see the sea

See the sea

See the sea

 

1975 Aged 21

Song #4 - Stranger's Town

 

 

STRANGER’S TOWN

 

I drifted in on a stranger’s town

I don’t know who’s around

Memories of bygone days

Litter the room

Send me home with a smile

And I’ll forget the gloom

That loneliness gave to me

 

I once felt comfort here but I moved on

I don’t quite know why

A restless urge to far away

Or sometimes close by

Found the links further afield

But found myself single still

Yes I found myself in the same old world

 

I’ve come to you with open arms

I want to know it again

Leap to the front of my brain

May we fire again

With that old spirit and laughter that

The music often brang

 

Or have the years and the patches grey

Won the day again?

Copyright Michael Coghlan 1975

 

COMMENT

Hilarious really to see a 21 yr old worrying about ‘patches grey’. I think I was probably trying to use the phrase metaphorically – referring to friends getting older and not being around to just hang out, get high, and have fun as in the past. And note the poetic license use of ‘brang’ as a past tense of bring to rhyme with again! Though I see that “in some dialects the past tense of “bring” is “brang,” 

From memory I was still smarting at being dumped and went interstate to find some old friends to distract me.

#3: Suicide Gaiety

 

Last week a long-time musical friend and I played a concert of our own songs at the Singing Gazebo. Our hosts were the wonderful Dave Clark and Kate Townsend.

The gig went well – people seemed to really enjoy it. Dave had recently released a book of his songs. 100 original folk tunes with a short potted history of a fascinating life and it has further motivated me to at least get down the lyrics to the songs I have written over the years here in this blog.

Song #3 in this collection is called Suicide Gaiety. I had never understood how anyone could contemplate suicide but after my girlfriend of several years dumped me I was distraught. I ran away to Melbourne and I remember sitting on a park bench somewhere thinking ‘now I understand why someone might contemplate killing themselves.’ I had never felt so low. I had no intention of doing it but at least I’d come to understand how someone might. This is the song that came from it. It’s obviously about how I was trying to drag myself out of self-pity. And succeeded it seems :) 1974. Aged 20.

 

SUICIDE GAIETY

These summer nights are here to stay

Ah but the world was goin’ my way

Looked at the sky and wandered round town

Sat on a bench and thought how to die

For I’ve forgotten my own name

Now matter how hard I try

Things don’t look the same

                Sat on a window sill and knew I couldn’t fly

                I’m not gonna hit the ground; I’m gonna hit the sky

                Hitch up to a parachute – that’s bound to work

                If not I’ll come on down like a stupid jerk

                Woman will you come with me?

    We’ll sail around the world

    We’ll go to see your home town in a wonderful balloon

I live in a world where all is OK

Managed to smile for most of the day

Worked it all through and left time to play

This happy song – I hope it sounds gay

For I remember my own name

No matter how hard I try

Things all look the same

    Sat on a window sill and knew I couldn’t fly

                I’m not gonna hit the ground; I’m gonna hit the sky

                Hitch up to a parachute that’s heading up that way

                If not I’ll come on down and take you right away

    In a wonderful balloon

    Painted orange like the summer sun in a fading summer sky

    We’ll blow a joint and dig the earth

And remember both our names

 

These summer nights are here to stay

These summer nights are here to stay

 

Song #2: Say Goodnight (1974)

We'll say good night - "good night"

We'll meet again in our dreams

Keep on lookin', never blind

Always know you're one to find 

And undefined in love

Wherever you go

Never knowin' what to say

Don't say anything at all my friend

Silence will keep you well

Never close your mind to it

You're young and in love 

With places to go

Are you wonderin' why you're sitting here?

There's so many places to go

You're not lookin',

Always blind

Are you really the one to find

The homes of our souls (the ends of our dreams)

And the places to go?

Say good night - "good night"

We'll meet again in our dreams

A young man's drivel? Perhaps. 20 years old and clearly doing some soul searching about who he wants to be. Seem to remember trying to resolve the desire to travel and also wanting a relationship. But he had clearly already learnt the value of silence.

Legacy?

 

I recently created a book of this blog. I must confess part of my desire to do this was based on the assumption that it might be of interest to someone after I’ve gone. Or that it might have value as an historical document about the early days of the Internet and education – the raison d’etre for this blog for its first 15 years. And I thought too that if it exists in hard copy its contents will be less likely to disappear off the face of the earth. I realise now too that I want some evidence to survive me that might explain to others what I did with my life!

I watched the movie Troy yesterday and in it Achilles makes it clear that he leads the life he does because he intends to be remembered after his death. (And it worked!) I guess that would be nice – even if a tad irrelevant for the person who is now dead – but I do have a desire now to pass some things on. I have a feeling that many friends and family really don’t have much idea what I’ve done with large parts of my life, particularly in the e-space, so getting this blog printed goes some way to addressing that.

I doubt if many who know me are aware of the fact that I have written around 100 songs. Of varying quality certainly, and this next step might be a little indulgent, but I’m going to begin adding the lyrics to these songs to this blog.

The first song I wrote was in 1972. I was 18. I had clearly been hurt and was feeling a bit sorry for myself – I’m guessing it was about a girl – but I don’t actually remember. As far as lyrics go I don’t think it’s too bad for an 18 year old. It’s a bit dramatic but at least shows signs of some early ‘wisdom’ about how the world works. I’d clearly worked out that just because you know why you’re hurting doesn’t stop the pain!

 

TO BE HURT

To be hurt is to feel pain
To be hurt is to see rain
To be hurt is good for the pride
It brings you down to what you hide

CHORUS

Then why do I wonder
          why do I cry
          why can’t I smile
When I know the reason why?

To be hurt is to be nothing
To be hurt is to have nothing
To be hurt is to feel everything
Like you never felt it before

CHORUS

To be hurt is to shatter
All those dreams of perfection
To be hurt is a state of mind
That you never dreamed would happen

CHORUS

Copyright Michael Coghlan 1972

 

 

 

Lit Up Inside - Selected Lyrics of Van Morrison

 (I have no idea if this review was ever published anywhere. Found it today in the archives so thought I'd put it on the record. Written early 2015.)

Lit Up Inside
Selected Lyrics of Van Morrison
Edited by Eamonn Hughes

(Faber & Faber, 2014, 208 pp, RRP $27.99

I wasn’t sure why someone would want to publish a book of lyrics these days. Lyric sites abound on the net and you can turn up the lyrics of any song you care to name for free in a matter of seconds. And initially I wasn’t sure either why someone would publish a book of lyrics of Van Morrison songs in particular. I don’t think of Van Morrison primarily as a lyricist. He’s a singer, and one of the finest of his generation. He changed the sound of much contemporary music forever with his unique brand of white soul. But he’s an emotional singer that relies very much on painting moods, and these moods are painted with words.

Before I opened the cover of Lit Up Inside I randomly chose a few of my favourite Van Morrison songs to see if they were included – Moondance, Tupelo Honey, Into the Mystic, Brown Eyed Girl, Wavelength - they’re all there. In fact, one third of all the songs he’s ever written are included. I started to remember beautifully sung phrases:

“Well it’s a marvellous night for a moondance
A fantabulous night to make romance” (Moondance)

‘“You can take all the tea in China
Put it in a big brown bag for me” (Tupelo Honey)

And then they just kept coming:

“I want to go to another country that operates along completely different lines”

 “What you lose on the hobby horses you gain on the swings”

“Chopping wood; carry water
What’s the sound of one hand clapping?
Enlightenment – I don’t know what it is” (Enlightenment)

So I’m changing my mind now. I’d forgotten how many fine lyrical moments of his had permanently lodged in my memory and become part of my lexicon.

A foreward from Ian Rankin tells us that there were often ‘stories in the music’ of Van Morrison with characters and commentary, and many of his songs reveal a “search for the spiritual in the commonplace.” Indeed, you don’t listen to Van Morrison for very long before hearing evidence of his preoccupation of things spiritual. But it is not a religious preoccupation in the sense of having a set of beliefs he wants to share. It is more to do with exploring the uncertain nature of existence in the everyday. And he names those places of the everyday, and they are often in his hometown of Belfast. He was one of the first pop/rock writers to name local streets and bars and towns in song the way popular American songwriters have always done. He saw the value of his own place – “even somewhere as unpromising as industrial east Belfast…..can be offered as a place of potential spiritual wonder”. It didn’t need to be Chicago, or San Francisco, or Belfast for that matter. As Morrison sings of his life in Belfast I see and remember the streets and pubs and haunts here in my city that played the same role in my life. By naming parts of Belfast in his songs, he actually legitimised the local experience of people listening to his tales wherever they lived.

So the lyrics of Van Morrison can be studied. There are clear recurring themes – the metaphysical, the imagery associated with radio, rivers, and railways - and to trace the development of these themes it is handy to have them all in one place in a printed volume that can be held in the hand.

But putting rock or pop lyrics on a printed page devoid of their musical context has always been problematic. Lyrics become words stripped of some of their power. And repeated phrases like ‘ya radio, ya radio’ (at the end of Wavelength) written 12 times just doesn’t read well. And what to make of choruses like “Sha la la la la la” etc  from Brown Eyed Girl on the printed page? It helps to read the lyrics as streams of consciousness. You then get a sense of the connection between these lyrics and the poetry of the Beat Generation, and particularly with Allen Ginsberg’s Howl from 1955.

Van Morrison buffs will clearly appreciate this compendium of his lyrics, as will those who wish to study his contribution to rock writing. And it helped me understand why it is that I have enjoyed his music so much over the years. So I’m sold. On balance the words of his songs do have sufficient substance to justify being printed as a book.

“Rave on John Donne; rave on.”

(Photo courtesy of Tom Collins)