Listen
Have you ever had something that felt like a dream while you were awake? When we lived in San Rafael, about 15 minutes north of San Francisco, I would be driving from the city to home at twilight (crepusculo) and hit some traffic, and have this moment where I felt this gentle splitting withinin myself between the me in the machine (car) the me in the amazing moment of glowing sundown and golden hills full of oak trees.
I'd be driving and almost feel my car lifting off toward the hills, going towards the old landscapes. It happened several times. Something was calling me over there. Then I'd look back to the road, the other cars, the artificial lights, and come back to my reality, stuck to the road, gravity. Technology.
After a year or so of this happening, a tune I was writing felt like it might be the right basket to try to show this mystical moment that would pop up. It was written on the piano, a little achey, a little whimsical, a little sad. When I put the image to the music, words started coming out right, describing those moments.
The mountain it speaks of is Mount Tamalpais, it means Sleeping Woman in the native language, looks like a woman laying on her side, a beautiful, tree-covered monument overlooking the ocean, taking up a lot of Marin County. When I let myself continue this dream in my head, I fly over the hills, the car dissolves, I'm back where it's quiet and you smell the earth and the ocean, she is a protector, this mountain.
Lyrics:
Coming over the hill to San Rafael on the 101
The sky is purple against red brake lights
Watching the stars appearing over the dark outline of the hills
Slowing down in front of flashing signs
Oh Cars Cars are drifting, cars lining up miles, miles and miles Oh , I don’t belong here all caught up inside Sealed off from the night
We sit still, impatient Night is coming,
We’re all going home
Hands on the wheel with our radios
To the west hills go to bed
They’re calling me where I belong
If the traffic stops I’ll float above, alone, above
Oh, cars Cars are rivers cars are flowing miles miles and miles Oh I I am lifted into the sky slipped into some old light
Up up over lights and droning motors
Over dew and honey grass and sleeping deer
Over rollers, hills with backs like dinosaurs
Floating over time a thousand years ago
Sailing Sailing quickly
I will soon be in the ocean air
Sleeping mountain where my heart is heard
Let me down on slanting sides
The breeze my breath, the grass my hair
I will fall asleep to waves and waves… in my ears
Friday, June 12, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
I'll Return as Waterbird _ What's this Song About?
Listen
It started on the bells - a pattern I tapped out on my fingers absentmindedly, and then I picked up some pencils to replicate it, finally found the mallets and went in earnest.
I hummed a long for weeks, with a melody, and couldn't figure out in my mind what the song was about. This is always the case with songs that start with music. The meaning is under many layers.
Images started to come and sometimes it's a little embarrassing to let these out, they seem random and not related to any specific event in my life. I've come to learn that they are more relevant than anything I "think" of to write about. They come from deeper places.
You may have noticed that birds show up a lot in these tunes. They are my guardians, a great blue heron always seems to be near, no matter where I live, even in the suburbs. Even at the beach.
Allowing the images to tell the story to me is like watching a wonderful movie/dream, and over the years I'll know more about what it means.
Basically: Lying in fields for answers is something I've done since a toddler - I'm always letting go of something, the bird flies over, and I become the bird, I let the old things lie in the field, I become the next part of myself. I trust this part to take me into the dark places, to warm me through them.
A lot of the letting go is from religious expectations, old forms, and yet the bird nestling me under the wing is an image I learned from the Bible. There is ancient wisdom in everything, there are things that get messed up.
The earth always seems to be the thing I can trust, the thing that knows, breathed through with the vibration of all love and Spirit. The Native American honor of the sacred earth is so inspiring to me.
The delicacy of the bells against the big thrum of the drums feels perfect, the harmonium in the minor keys feels next-worldly to me. Man, this was a tough one to sing through! Not a lot of places for breath, but I love singing it... And here are the lyrics!
Baby I’ve been feeling so gone
Lyin in a field for so long
Under wings and buzzin things
If I listen good I’ll live long
Harvest ball you’ll be free of me
Of the darkest spark of evenin'
I’ll return as water bird
Greatness fill the river of my blood
I will take you darling
Deep into the evening
I will take you darling
Deep into the night
They’ll say whatever has happened
Some will tell and some won't listen
We saw silver sail glisten
O’er the sea, she’s gone to find her (love)
Where has she gone, where has she flown
Lightness lifting hollow bone
Feathers holding wind to a home
That was there long before she was born
I will take you darling
Deep into the evening
I will take you darling
Deep into the night
Come my little darling
Deep under my warm wing
I will take you darling deep into the night
The truth comes out
I’m light as air without you
The truth comes out
I often think about you
Baby I’ve been feeling so gone
Lying in a field for so long
Under wings and buzzing things
Listen’ to their every day song
After long I learned their ancient
Tellings and I took their secret
I fly over where we summered
And from my high heart I send my love
My love
My love
Oh my love
It started on the bells - a pattern I tapped out on my fingers absentmindedly, and then I picked up some pencils to replicate it, finally found the mallets and went in earnest.
I hummed a long for weeks, with a melody, and couldn't figure out in my mind what the song was about. This is always the case with songs that start with music. The meaning is under many layers.
Images started to come and sometimes it's a little embarrassing to let these out, they seem random and not related to any specific event in my life. I've come to learn that they are more relevant than anything I "think" of to write about. They come from deeper places.
You may have noticed that birds show up a lot in these tunes. They are my guardians, a great blue heron always seems to be near, no matter where I live, even in the suburbs. Even at the beach.
Allowing the images to tell the story to me is like watching a wonderful movie/dream, and over the years I'll know more about what it means.
Basically: Lying in fields for answers is something I've done since a toddler - I'm always letting go of something, the bird flies over, and I become the bird, I let the old things lie in the field, I become the next part of myself. I trust this part to take me into the dark places, to warm me through them.
A lot of the letting go is from religious expectations, old forms, and yet the bird nestling me under the wing is an image I learned from the Bible. There is ancient wisdom in everything, there are things that get messed up.
The earth always seems to be the thing I can trust, the thing that knows, breathed through with the vibration of all love and Spirit. The Native American honor of the sacred earth is so inspiring to me.
The delicacy of the bells against the big thrum of the drums feels perfect, the harmonium in the minor keys feels next-worldly to me. Man, this was a tough one to sing through! Not a lot of places for breath, but I love singing it... And here are the lyrics!
Baby I’ve been feeling so gone
Lyin in a field for so long
Under wings and buzzin things
If I listen good I’ll live long
Harvest ball you’ll be free of me
Of the darkest spark of evenin'
I’ll return as water bird
Greatness fill the river of my blood
I will take you darling
Deep into the evening
I will take you darling
Deep into the night
They’ll say whatever has happened
Some will tell and some won't listen
We saw silver sail glisten
O’er the sea, she’s gone to find her (love)
Where has she gone, where has she flown
Lightness lifting hollow bone
Feathers holding wind to a home
That was there long before she was born
I will take you darling
Deep into the evening
I will take you darling
Deep into the night
Come my little darling
Deep under my warm wing
I will take you darling deep into the night
The truth comes out
I’m light as air without you
The truth comes out
I often think about you
Baby I’ve been feeling so gone
Lying in a field for so long
Under wings and buzzing things
Listen’ to their every day song
After long I learned their ancient
Tellings and I took their secret
I fly over where we summered
And from my high heart I send my love
My love
My love
Oh my love
Monday, June 1, 2009
On Writing - Walgreens
Walked into Walgreens today and I love the smell of that place.
Brings me back to being a small child at Hoy's 5 and dime with my Grandparents at the shore. When the gift of a plastic ball fom a big bin of other plastic balls with marbly blue and pink colors on it was heaven.
And what is the 32 year old Jessica's equivalent of a marbly blue and pink plastic ball?
A composition notebook.
Blank lined pages. Big enough to write freely, cheap enough to not edit my thoughts, the right space between the lines - and this one was purple. I thought I'd go for purple for the first time.
I remembered today how important it is to write those 3 pages every morning - not songwriting, just whatever comes out. Not trying to make it sound any certain way. And the composition notebook is just the key to make that happen. Little pretty journals are harder to write in.
This to me is a big key to writing. When you're TRYING to sound poetic, it's not convincing. Practing writing about nothing really gets a nice flow going, so that when I do go into my studio and press record, I'm already all flowy and purged.
And then it's just fun.
Brings me back to being a small child at Hoy's 5 and dime with my Grandparents at the shore. When the gift of a plastic ball fom a big bin of other plastic balls with marbly blue and pink colors on it was heaven.
And what is the 32 year old Jessica's equivalent of a marbly blue and pink plastic ball?
A composition notebook.
Blank lined pages. Big enough to write freely, cheap enough to not edit my thoughts, the right space between the lines - and this one was purple. I thought I'd go for purple for the first time.
I remembered today how important it is to write those 3 pages every morning - not songwriting, just whatever comes out. Not trying to make it sound any certain way. And the composition notebook is just the key to make that happen. Little pretty journals are harder to write in.
This to me is a big key to writing. When you're TRYING to sound poetic, it's not convincing. Practing writing about nothing really gets a nice flow going, so that when I do go into my studio and press record, I'm already all flowy and purged.
And then it's just fun.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Heaven Help the Day - What's this song about?
Listen
Walking down the sidewalk in Carpinteria, CA with Ryan one day we came upon a yard sale. I bought an old copy of War and Peace.
When I got home a letter fell out of it. This guy writing to someone about all his regrets, that he divorced the woman he loved cause he thought he was going to prison, that he regretted that he'd never met his son, that the cancer he had could never hurt him the way he missed her. It was unbelievable, all this pain.
It stayed with me. I wrote about the son, the one that got left, that had nothing to do with what happened.
I know a lot of people who have never met their father, or not till later in life. I have a friend who saw the back of her dad's head once when someone pointed him out to her as they passed in a car. That's all she got.
I got to meet Nick Flynn on tour, and read his book Another Bullshit Night in Suck City. He writes about being a boy and wondering if he'd met his dad but didn't know it. That inspired a lot of the feeling of this tune.
The song is all the feelings of love and anger that go with being left by family. How in the end, there is always a piece of the heart that is theirs, no matter what they do to you.
I have never met my father
They say he left us for another
Her name was Wanda, her name was prison, her name was free
And my name’s lonely, My name’s orphan My name’s please
If you see me walking I look at faces
I wonder if your blood’s in me
You’re just a stranger, a fellow walking down the street
And if you see me, smile gently keep going
Heaven Help the Day you ran from home
Cause I don’t know if I want you home
If I want you back who left me all alone
Yah I don’t know if I want you home
Heaven help the day you come
I’d make you worry, I’d make you want me,
I’d make you sit at home, wonderin’ where I’d gone
Uh huh
I’d make you love me, I’d make you love me then I’d leave you all alone
Heaven help the day you come back home
Copyright Jessica Peters Malmberg 2009
Walking down the sidewalk in Carpinteria, CA with Ryan one day we came upon a yard sale. I bought an old copy of War and Peace.
When I got home a letter fell out of it. This guy writing to someone about all his regrets, that he divorced the woman he loved cause he thought he was going to prison, that he regretted that he'd never met his son, that the cancer he had could never hurt him the way he missed her. It was unbelievable, all this pain.
It stayed with me. I wrote about the son, the one that got left, that had nothing to do with what happened.
I know a lot of people who have never met their father, or not till later in life. I have a friend who saw the back of her dad's head once when someone pointed him out to her as they passed in a car. That's all she got.
I got to meet Nick Flynn on tour, and read his book Another Bullshit Night in Suck City. He writes about being a boy and wondering if he'd met his dad but didn't know it. That inspired a lot of the feeling of this tune.
The song is all the feelings of love and anger that go with being left by family. How in the end, there is always a piece of the heart that is theirs, no matter what they do to you.
I have never met my father
They say he left us for another
Her name was Wanda, her name was prison, her name was free
And my name’s lonely, My name’s orphan My name’s please
If you see me walking I look at faces
I wonder if your blood’s in me
You’re just a stranger, a fellow walking down the street
And if you see me, smile gently keep going
Heaven Help the Day you ran from home
Cause I don’t know if I want you home
If I want you back who left me all alone
Yah I don’t know if I want you home
Heaven help the day you come
I’d make you worry, I’d make you want me,
I’d make you sit at home, wonderin’ where I’d gone
Uh huh
I’d make you love me, I’d make you love me then I’d leave you all alone
Heaven help the day you come back home
Copyright Jessica Peters Malmberg 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Bay Area Shows with Johanna Kunin
New shows in San Francisco and Santa Cruz with the wonderful Johanna Kunin, on tour from Seattle. So excited to play some music with her!
If you know anyone in these towns, please pass the word on, send em down! It will be a great night of thoughtful, beautiful tunes.
San Francisco - June 14th 9:00 PM at Hotel Utah with Johanna Kunin
500 Fourth Street, San Francisco, California 94107
Cost: TBD
Santa Cruz - June 15th, 9:00 PM at The Crepe Place with Johanna Kunin
1134 Soquel Ave, Santa Cruz, California 95062
Cost: TBD
More info at Myspace
Or at Petracovich.com
If you know anyone in these towns, please pass the word on, send em down! It will be a great night of thoughtful, beautiful tunes.
San Francisco - June 14th 9:00 PM at Hotel Utah with Johanna Kunin
500 Fourth Street, San Francisco, California 94107
Cost: TBD
Santa Cruz - June 15th, 9:00 PM at The Crepe Place with Johanna Kunin
1134 Soquel Ave, Santa Cruz, California 95062
Cost: TBD
More info at Myspace
Or at Petracovich.com
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Big Heart - a song from Crepusculo
Listen
Even before the big loss of last year, the loss of my son, I had a bit of a continual heartache. You can hear it in the music of the past years - the melancholy with sweetness, the sadness always a little present.
I decided one day that my heart was good, with the holes, with the big feelings, with the darks and the lights. With the sadness. The ride it takes me on is important. And I would protect it, and make a safe place for it, trust it and listen to it. (More.)
Sat down at the piano, pushed record, and told my heart, "No one will ever hear this." It's easiest for me to write a song thinking that it's just in this small world of my red-walled studio and my imagination that it will exist, and it can come out safely this way. I can break the rule later.
And I started plunking the piano, felt the arpeggio of the first line come, it felt real, and I could sing it again and again and like it.
Recording the piano for Big Heart from Crepusculo on the old and singular piano at Type Foundry in Portland, you could hear the hammers and strings, the creaks of the pedal. And getting into the space of dearness, singing to my heart, is nothing but helpful, strengthening, and scary all at once.
We decided to keep it sparse, keep the drums with space between and making an impact. Tad contributed the guitars from his studio in Santa Barbara, a strong solo, and perfect support for the choruses. And we let it build up strong at the end to the declaration of "This is your song", a big celebration, a letting go, and then, a quiet thank you at the end.
Lyrics:
To my big big big big heart
Oh my love
I will listen
Beautiful heart
Oh my big big big big heart
You love so hard,
Let me clip the wires off
You will bleed
Chorus
I will build you a house
Made of earth, of my bone
It will be black as love
It will be a gracious womb
Oh my dear dear dear dear heart
Steady in me
Making me me
I thought it was too much
And I’ll hold you here my heart
Velvet dark drum
Lean against your soft thrum
Making waves through me
Chorus
I will build you a house
Made of earth, of my bone
It will be black as love
It will be a gracious womb
Throw your arms up, this is for you,
Throw your arms up it's your song...
To my big big big big heart
Marching soldier
Blessed Mother
Big strong love
Even before the big loss of last year, the loss of my son, I had a bit of a continual heartache. You can hear it in the music of the past years - the melancholy with sweetness, the sadness always a little present.
I decided one day that my heart was good, with the holes, with the big feelings, with the darks and the lights. With the sadness. The ride it takes me on is important. And I would protect it, and make a safe place for it, trust it and listen to it. (More.)
Sat down at the piano, pushed record, and told my heart, "No one will ever hear this." It's easiest for me to write a song thinking that it's just in this small world of my red-walled studio and my imagination that it will exist, and it can come out safely this way. I can break the rule later.
And I started plunking the piano, felt the arpeggio of the first line come, it felt real, and I could sing it again and again and like it.
Recording the piano for Big Heart from Crepusculo on the old and singular piano at Type Foundry in Portland, you could hear the hammers and strings, the creaks of the pedal. And getting into the space of dearness, singing to my heart, is nothing but helpful, strengthening, and scary all at once.
We decided to keep it sparse, keep the drums with space between and making an impact. Tad contributed the guitars from his studio in Santa Barbara, a strong solo, and perfect support for the choruses. And we let it build up strong at the end to the declaration of "This is your song", a big celebration, a letting go, and then, a quiet thank you at the end.
Lyrics:
To my big big big big heart
Oh my love
I will listen
Beautiful heart
Oh my big big big big heart
You love so hard,
Let me clip the wires off
You will bleed
Chorus
I will build you a house
Made of earth, of my bone
It will be black as love
It will be a gracious womb
Oh my dear dear dear dear heart
Steady in me
Making me me
I thought it was too much
And I’ll hold you here my heart
Velvet dark drum
Lean against your soft thrum
Making waves through me
Chorus
I will build you a house
Made of earth, of my bone
It will be black as love
It will be a gracious womb
Throw your arms up, this is for you,
Throw your arms up it's your song...
To my big big big big heart
Marching soldier
Blessed Mother
Big strong love
Friday, May 1, 2009
Up at 3:30am
I never do this. Laying in bed, I'm thinking about the release of Crepusculo, my latest album, this summer. We're planning a tour from LA to Seattle and I'm lying half awake with weird surveys I'm taking in my dreams, and names of friends in these cities circling my brain, and I think, should I spend this hour laying here frustrated or get up and send some emails? It feels good to just scratch the itch. I can nap tomorrow.
Except that when you get up in the middle of the night, when your eyes have been closed and look at the computer screen, it's impossibly bright. I had to half cover my eyes for five minutes! The computer is so full of fake light, how can we look at it all day?
In my half-awake state, I start thinking about sending this record to be reviewed, a process that's part rewarding, ego-boosting and part high-school, "am I popular?" - feeling. I remember one review from the Portland Mercury where the guy spent 2 paragraphs talking about how there were birds on the cover of my album and birds were SO last year. Then he spent a couple sentences writing about the music, and how it was pretty good.
At the same time, I've never felt more like I don't need to read the reviews. I love these songs, I love the artwork, I like my life, I get to play music, isn't this great? I get to play music!
So hopefully bitter Jess will stay home when we play this tour, and happy Jess will be present as we open the paper, sitting at a pizza joint an hour before we play a show and read through local reviews, I hope I remember how good I have it, and let it be fun to read what these people I've never met have written about what I wrote. I hope I remember happy hours at my baby grand, with the window open, listening to the mockingbird outside as I play away...
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