Empty Sound

The summer hung like a fragrance
On the sweet air all around
Swore to God I would die
Before I left this town
Like the vandals, and the vagrants
And the Indian boy who drowned
Last thing you're gonna hear from me
Is bound
To be just another...

Huckleberry Island, you're still always on my mind
Can't believe I ever left this place behind
I hid my heart in the Hole in the Wall
And I still hear it pound
A never ending echo of that empty sound

Sun sank like an anchor
Rope slipped through my hand
God knows if I should drown
Or try to make a stand
If you see my girl please thank her
She was only trying to bring me around
God knows how I ever got so unwound
Tried to walk on water over...

(chorus)

Behind the big red boat shed
I took a notion I should wake the dead
I couldn't think, I took another drink
I fell asleep behind the hockey rink
Woke up to my bottle clinkin'
Empty...

Bike wheels on the gravel
Moonlight on the bay
I swore there was nothing that could tear me away
I took off to travel
Now I never touch the ground
Pretty soon I'll be an old loon
Flapping around
And I'll sing another...

(chorus)

I wrote this one when I started putting together songs for a live recording in Parry Sound, Ontario - my hometown. The predominant geographic feature of my childhood was the Sound itself, also known as The Big Sound, and Huckleberry Island was what I saw out the window every morning.

This jumble of images comes mostly from the last summer I spent in Parry Sound at the age of 17. Every one is layered with a dozen associations for me, many of them deeply emotional.

It's about 5 years old now and I'm just starting to grow into it.

High enough to see...

Okay, this diary isn't daily yet. But two entries is a good start. The real trick is going to be keeping it condensed to readable blurb size. Once I get going it's pretty hard to stop.

I spent this past weekend in my hometown, Parry Sound, recording my third CD, "Mighty Grace." The old CPR station, now the Station Gallery, where the recording took place, was tremendous, acoustically and spiritually. At one point Scott and I actually jammed with a freight train rolling by about 30 feet from where we stood.

I'm sure I'll share more as it bubbles up, but other highlights of the weekend included climbing my boyhood climbing tree. Amazingly, I could still see the spots where I had placed my feet as a kid- and I could still get 50 feet up, high enough to see Hole in the Wall on Huckleberry Island. There's a song about that, but you'll have to wait for the CD. Or at least until I can post lyrics. Remind me, okay?