Irving Berlin

This century’s, no make it this millennium’s Ira Award for Best Lyricist of classic songs goes to Irving Berlin.  Of course he was also the composer of these songs as well.

The story goes that Mr. Berlin, who had small hands wrote most of his songs in the key of F# because he preferred to play on the black keys of the piano where the stretch was not so large for his fingers.  Later in life, when he could afford it, he had Steinway make him a special upright piano with a large crank on the side that when turned, tightened the strings and thus changed the sounding key of his F# fingerings – sort of a guitar capo for the piano.

This man had his fingers not only on the piano but also on the pulse of America like no other lyricist since.  Among the many great classic songs he wrote were “Alexander’s Ragtime Band”, “Easter Parade”, “White Christmas”, “There’s No Business Like Show Business”, “God Bless America”, “A Pretty Girl is Like a Melody,” “Always”,  “Puttin’ on the Ritz”, and “What’ll I Do”.

He was a lyricist of great simplicity, humor, conviction and depth.  He spoke to the common man; he spoke to kings and queens, and he spoke to future generations of people that he knew nothing about.  He spoke to the heart of human beings and captured time in a bottle.  He could write silly stuff one day and then turn around and tear your heart out the next.

Don’t ask me just how it happened,

I wish I knew.

I can’t believe that it’s happened,

And still it’s true.

I got lost in his arms, and I had to stay.

It was dark in his arms, and I lost my way.

From the dark came a voice, and it seemed to say,

“There you go, there you go.”

How I felt, as I fell, I just can’t recall.

But his arms held me fast and it broke the fall.

And I said to my heart as it foolishly

Kept jumping all around.

I got lost

But look what I found.

Was there ever a love song so succinct, so simple and yet so jaw-droppingly breathtaking?  It took him just 14 lines to nail down the impact of love for all time.

And then in this next offering, he writes the most iconic song about the entertainment industry ever written.  Will this song ever fade from the human consciousness?  Probably never.

There’s no business like show business like no business I know

Everything about it is appealing, everything that traffic will allow

Nowhere could you get that happy feeling

When you are stealing that extra bow

There’s no people like show people, they smile when they are low

Even with a turkey that you know will fold,

You may be stranded out in the cold

Still you wouldn’t change it for a sack of gold, let’s go on with the show

The butcher, the baker, the grocer, the clerk

Are secretly unhappy men because

The butcher, the baker, the grocer, the clerk

Get paid for what they do but no applause.

They’d gladly bid their dreary jobs goodbye

For anything theatrical and why?

There’s no business like show business and I tell you it’s so

Traveling through the country is so thrilling,

Standing out in front on opening nights

Smiling as you watch the theater filling,

And there’s your billing out there in lights

There’s no people like show people, they smile when they are low

Angels come from everywhere with lots of jack,

And when you lose it, there’s no attack

Where could you get money that you don’t give back?

Let’s go on with the show

There’s no business like show business like no business I know

You get word before the show has started

That your favorite uncle died at dawn

Top of that, your pa and ma have parted,

You’re broken-hearted, but you go on

There’s no people like show people, they smile when they are low

Yesterday they told you you would not go far,

That night you open and there you are

Next day on your dressing room they’ve hung a star,

Let’s go on with the show!!

Can’t ya’ just hear Ethyl Merman’s vibrato yet ringing through the theater?  I live 2 blocks from the Broadway theater district in NYC.  If I lean my head out the window, I can hear her still, echoing through the canyons of this great city.

What do we do at Easter?  Walk Fifth Avenue and sing, “In your Easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it…”  And a Christmas, what do we hope for?  Only the most iconic and best selling Christmas song of all time – “White Christmas”.  Sing it, Bing.

And what got reinstalled into every baseball game after 9/11 all across this land?  The singing of Berlin’s “God Bless America”, the icon of American patriotism.  Sing it, Kate!

I can’t let you get away tonight without my favorite, again, oh so simple, but wrenchingly touching love song.  Here’s another Irving Berlin gem that lives in our hearts and goes to the root of the sadness of love gone wrong.

Gone is the romance that was so divine.

‘Tis broken and cannot be mended.

You must go your way,

And I must go mine.

But now that our love dreams have ended…

What’ll I do

When you are far away

And I am blue

What’ll I do?

What’ll I do?

When I am wond’ring who

Is kissing you

What’ll I do?

What’ll I do with just a photograph

To tell my troubles to?

When I’m alone

With only dreams of you

That won’t come true

What’ll I do?

Even More Inspiration

• The Ira Awards Part 2
• Much Ado About Nothing
• You’re Leaving Me
• Grieving In Silence
• The Ira Awards Part 3
• The Ira Awards Part 1

James Taylor

If you were to ask me, “Who has been your favorite pop star throughout your life?” I’d have to answer that it is a tie between The Beatles and James Taylor.  Perhaps that dates me; perhaps, on the other hand, it doesn’t.  Both have had such musically triumphant careers and both are sure to be long lasting.

Also both churned out mountains of great music and for me that’s the bottom line.  The Beatles were perhaps more eclectic, but Sweet Baby James was, well, just so sweeeet!

As a lyricist, James can be somewhat impressionistic like Paul and Joni, but also could just nail it down with the best of them.  He wrote this song for a musical, “Working”, and as a story-telling song, it’s one of the best.  It wins my Ira Award for Best Song for a Musical Written by a Pop Star.

Now my grandfather was a sailor

He blew in off the water

My father was a farmer

And I, his only daughter

Took up with a no good mill working man

From Massachusetts

Who dies from too much whiskey

And leaves me these three faces to feed

Millwork ain’t easy

Millwork ain’t hard

Millwork it ain’t nothing

But an awful boring job

I’m waiting for a daydream

To take me through the morning

And put me in my coffee break

Where I can have a sandwich

And remember

Then it’s me and my machine

For the rest of the morning

For the rest of the afternoon

And the rest of my life

Now my mind begins to wander

To the days back on the farm

I can see my father smiling at me

Swinging on his arm

I can hear my granddad’s stories

Of the storms out on Lake Eerie

Where vessels and cargos and fortunes

And sailors’ lives were lost

Yes, but it’s my life has been wasted

And I have been the fool

To let this manufacturer

Use my body for a tool

I can ride home in the evening

Staring at my hands

Swearing by my sorrow that a young girl

Ought to stand a better chance

So may I work the mills just as long as I am able

And never meet the man whose name is on the label

It be me and my machine

For the rest of the morning

And the rest of the afternoon

Gone for the rest of my life

Then James can turn around and write with great depth sharing his own spiritual corner on life with us in this wonderful insight into his style of life.  This song expresses the nature of James the best for me, capturing the essence of the man better than any of his others.  I like to think of him sitting out on his back porch in the Berkshires, pen in one hand, guitar in the other.

The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time

Any fool can do it

There ain’t nothing to it

Nobody knows how we got to

The top of the hill

But since we’re on our way down

We might as well enjoy the ride

The secret of love is in opening up your heart

It’s okay to feel afraid

But don’t let that stand in your way

‘Cause anyone knows that love is the only road

And since we’re only here for a while

Might as well show some style

Give us a smile

Isn’t it a lovely ride

Sliding down

Gliding down

Try not to try too hard

It’s just a lovely ride

Now the thing about time is that time

Isn’t really real

It’s just your point of view

How does it feel for you

Einstein said he could never understand it all

Planets spinning through space

The smile upon your face

Welcome to the human race

Some kind of lovely ride

I’ll be sliding down

I’ll be gliding down

Try not to try too hard

It’s just a lovely ride

Isn’t it a lovely ride

Sliding down

Gliding down

Try not to try too hard

It’s just a lovely ride

Now the secret of life is enjoying the passage of time

James has had a great effect on me in my life and in my music.  His mastery of chord progressions and guitar meanderings always blows my mind and stimulates my imagination.  Musically, he is probably my biggest influence.  When his new CDs come out, I’m always first in line, knowing that in a short time I’ll be lying on the couch back home with my headphones on, a big smile upon my face and wonder in my heart.

I don’t know that his lyrics have had a similar impact, but I do know that one of my favorite songs I’ve ever written came from the wish to some day be able to write a song like the one above, “Isn’t It A Lovely Ride.”

This next song, as beautifully sung by Jenny Burton, is definitely a reaction to my hero, Sweet Baby James, and my own shot at putting my stamp on my own soul.

When I consider the heavens

The works of Thy fingers

The moon and the stars

You ordained

When I consider a child

The steps that he’s taking

His light and his joy

So ingrained

When I think of the way

That each breath comes unnoticed

Sustaining this delicate life

I am swept off my feet

In breathless wonder

At the mystery of life

When I consider the music

Of all the great masters

And know it was You

They all heard

And the works of our Shakespeares

King Davids and Keats

You gave them each

Every word

When I contemplate

The pure fabric of nature

Bewildered by all we have learned

I am swept off my feet

In breathless wonder

At the miracle of life

And I think on these things

And the wonder life brings

From the greatest of things to the small

And though I spend my life

Searching life’s solemn secrets

I know I’ll never know all

As I ponder the atom

The boundless vast ether

The billions of lives

On this stone

I consider the gift

Of God’s imagination

And begin to explore

The unknown

But this whimsical world

It just slips through my fingers

As I try to hold on to the air

And I’m swept off my feet

In breathless wonder

At the miracle of life

And I think on these things

Yes I think on these things

And the wonder life brings

Even More Inspiration

• The Ira Awards Part 2
• The Ira Awards Part 1
• You’re Leaving Me
• Grateful
• The Ira Awards Part 4
• Most Inspirational Dog

Joni Mitchell-Self Portrait

If you’ve already read Part 1, then welcome back!  Tonight let’s start with Joni.  In Part 1 I opened with the expression “A poem doth not a lyric make”.  Joni Mitchell, in my book, comes the closest to writing poetry that works as lyrics.  It is her genius to do so.  Even though she can make it work sometimes, I still wouldn’t try it if I were you.  Joni Mitchells only come along once in a lifetime.

Joni writes a lot like Paul Simon – she paints an impressionistic picture.  She is a poet at work on a lyrical canvas.  She sometimes tells a story, but that story often just has splotches of through line and she leaves it up to the listener to fill in the blanks.  She is also, you may already know, an accomplished painter whose work often graces her album covers.

Here’s one of my favorite Joni’s.

Just before our love got lost you said

I am as constant as a northern star

And I said, constantly in the darkness

Where’s that at?

If you want me I’ll be in the bar

On the back of a carton coaster

In the blue TV screen light

I drew a map of Canada

Oh Canada

With your face sketched on it twice

Oh you’re in my blood like holy wine

You taste so bitter and so sweet

Oh I could drink a case of you darling

And I would still be on my feet

Oh I would still be on my feet

Oh I am a lonely painter

I live in a box of paints

I’m frightened by the devil

And I’m drawn to those ones that ain’t afraid

I remember that time that you told me, you said

Love is touching souls

Surely you touched mine

Cause part of you pours out of me

In these lines from time to time

Oh you’re in my blood like holy wine

You taste so bitter and so sweet

Oh I could drink a case of you darling

Still I’d be on my feet

I would still be on my feet

I met a woman

She had a mouth like yours

She knew your life

She knew your devils and your deeds

And she said

Go to him, stay with him if you can

But be prepared to bleed

Oh but you are in my blood you’re my holy wine

You’re so bitter, bitter and so sweet

Oh I could drink a case of you darling

Still I’d be on my feet

I would still be on my feet

When you get done reading or hearing this lyric, you’ve only gotten sketches, but you really have an insight into their relationship and the analogy used is just terrific.

I grew up writing theater lyrics.  They have to be more straightforward, less obtuse, because, especially in today’s musicals, the lyrics must advance the plot.  That’s a lot to require in a medium where most people pay little attention to the lyrics being absorbed by the music, but the surroundings of the theater, the stage, the costumes, the characters, the plot itself make the audience focus more on the lyrics.

Oscar Hammerstein pretty much invented this tradition with the advent of the ground breaking “Oklahoma” (No one who has ever seen this musical will ever have trouble spelling this word).  After “Oklahoma” the songs pretty much always had to forward the plot.  Previous to that, songs turned up most often as nightclub routines that had nothing to do with anything except pure entertainment.

Pop music is a whole different story.  In the 50’s when rock was born, lyrics went from great sophistication to great simplicity.  “Da doo run run” and “Purple People Eater” tickled the sensibilities of millions, but I couldn’t say that the 50s or the 60s were exactly a high watermark in the craft and art of lyric writing.

Then the Beatles came along and smashed all the traditions and turned the musical world, and the rest of the world for that matter, upside down.

Lennon and McCartney not only could write with beautiful, cogent and intelligent simplicity (think “Yesterday”), but they could also take you far beyond Joni and Paul in the art of impressionism.

In terms of simplicity, here’s a beauty from John:

Imagine there’s no Heaven

It’s easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us only sky

Imagine all the people

Living for today

Imagine there’s no countries

It isn’t hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion too

Imagine all the people

Living life in peace

You may say that I’m a dreamer

But I’m not the only one

I hope someday you’ll join us

And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions

I wonder if you can

No need for greed or hunger

A brotherhood of man

Imagine all the people

Sharing all the world

You may say that I’m a dreamer

But I’m not the only one

I hope someday you’ll join us

And the world will live as one

Lennon and McCartney could also write with a kind of off the wall sense of humor.  It was Stephen Sondheim who said that one of the hardest things to do in the theater was to write a song that got laughs.  Then he went out and proved himself wrong with “Gee, Officer Krupke” and “Comedy Tonight”.

Lennon and McCartney tickled our funny bones with songs like “Octopus’s Garden”, “When I’m Sixty-four”, and even the following great straight rocker that gives a tongue in cheek nod in the middle to the great Brian Wilson’s “I Wish They All Could Be California Girls” and also squeezes in a tip o’ the hat to Ray Charles.  I may not have a boffo laugh from this song, but I can’t hear it without breaking out into a big grin.

Flew in from Miami Beach BOAC

Didn’t get to bed last night

On the way the paper bag was on my knee

Man I had a dreadful flight

I’m back in the U.S.S.R.

You don’t know how lucky you are boy

Back in the U.S.S.R.

Been away so long I hardly knew the place

Gee it’s good to be back home

Leave it till tomorrow to unpack my case

Honey disconnect the phone

I’m back in the U.S.S.R.

You don’t know how lucky you are boy

Back in the U.S.S.R.

Well the Ukraine girls really knock me out

They leave the West behind

And Moscow girls make me sing and shout

That Georgia’s always on my mind.

I’m back in the U.S.S.R.

You don’t know how lucky you are boys

Back in the U.S.S.R.

Show me round your snow peaked mountains way down south

Take me to your daddy’s farm

Let me hear your balalaika’s ringing out

Come and keep your comrade warm.

I’m back in the U.S.S.R.

You don’t know how lucky you are boys

Back in the U.S.S.R.

And then, of course, in the impressionistic tradition of Joni and Paul, there’s Lucy.  For two decades my generation argued about what this song was about, but when you were on what they were on, you didn’t care.  The song is an icon of its time.

Picture yourself in a boat on a river,

With tangerine trees and marmalade skies

Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,

A girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

Cellophane flowers of yellow and green,

Towering over your head.

Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes,

And she’s gone.

Lucy in the sky with diamonds.

Follow her down to a bridge by a fountain

Where rocking horse people eat marshmallow pies,

Everyone smiles as you drift past the flowers,

That grow so incredibly high.

Newspaper taxis appear on the shore,

Waiting to take you away.

Climb in the back with your head in the clouds,

And you’re gone.

Lucy in the sky with diamonds.

Picture yourself on a train in a station,

With plasticine porters with looking glass ties,

Suddenly someone is there at the turnstile,

The girl with the kaleidoscope eyes.

Lucy in the sky with diamonds.

Stay tuned.  Coming soon: Cole Porter, James Taylor, Lieber and Stoller, Johnny Mercer, Irving Berlin, and the great Oscar Hammerstein.

Even More Inspiration

• The Ira Awards Part 3
• The Ira Awards Part 4
• The Ira Awards Part 1
• I Was There
• Most Inspirational Dog
• Much Ado About Nothing

Ira Gershwin

In the music industry, when the royalty split is determined for songwriters, the industry standard for royalties is that the composer gets 50% and the lyricist gets the other 50%.  Each contributor to the song shares equally.  But when it comes to publicity, notoriety, and public appreciation, that’s where the equality stops.  The composer always gets the lion’s share of the attention.

And so to right this inequality, to re-balance the appreciation for these underappreciated wordsmiths, I’ve decided to create just what this world needs most – another awards show – The Ira Awards, presented by Watchfire Music.  Also I’ve decided to name it after the most underappreciated lyricist of them all – Ira Gershwin.

Over the next couple of nights I’ll be giving out Iras to many of the world’s greatest lyricists and discussing why we’ve voted for them.  Our panel of judges (consisting of me, myself and I) have been collecting and reviewing examples of the world’s greatest lyrics for the past 30 years now and the ballots are now tabulated, the voting is in and it’s time to give out them golden statues.

To right our first wrong, let’s first establish the derivation of our title.  Ira Gershwin wrote lyrics for his much more famous brother, George for many years.  When people say, “Ah, that’s a Gershwin song” let’s face it, they’re not thinking “Gershwin Brothers”, they’re thinking “George”.  How did Ira get left out?  I have no idea.  It’s an injustice that I hope to resolve.

The man who only lives for making money

Lives a life that isn’t necessarily sunny;

Likewise the man who works for fame –

There’s no guarantee that time won’t erase his name

The fact is

The only work that really brings enjoyment

Is the kind that is for girl and boy meant.

Fall in love — you won’t regret it.

That’s the best work of all — if you can get it.

Holding hands at midnight

‘Neath a starry sky…

Oh that is nice work if you can get it.

And you can get it — if you try.

Strolling with the one girl

Sighing sigh after sigh…

Oh nice work if you can get it.

And you can get it — if you try.

Just imagine someone

Waiting at the cottage door.

Where two hearts become one…

Who could ask for anything more?

Loving one who loves you,

And then taking that vow…

Nice work if you can get it,

And if you get it –

Won’t you tell me how?

Lyrics: Ira Gershwin

In my classes on lyric writing I always lead off with this: “A poem doth not a lyric make.”  I always get the same reaction,  “Wha?”

What it means is this.  The major difference between poems and lyrics is that with a poem, the reader can stop in time and investigate a turn of phrase or a deeper thought.  With lyrics, there ain’t no stoppin’.  The music prohibits that.  So lyrics have to be simpler, more straightforward.  There can be poetry in a lyric, but it can’t be so dense that the listener cannot follow.

In the above lyric, Ira gets my award for best simple story telling done economically.  Here’s another of his gems.

Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you

Embrace me, you irreplaceable you

Just one look at you my heart grew tipsy in me

You and you alone bring out the gypsy in me

I love all the many charms about you

Above all I want my arms about

Don’t be a naughty baby…

Come to papa come to papa do

My sweet embraceable you…

Again, Lyrics: Ira Gershwin.  Google just about any George Gershwin song and often it gives George the lyric credit and leaves poor Ira out, but the fact is that Ira wrote the lyrics and George, the music.

Paul Simon, another great lyricist from another age tells a good story as well.  He certainly is poetic and his lyrics more obtuse, but in the following lyric Paul gets my vote for painting a picture that sets a mood and tells a story that has so many blanks that we, the listeners, get to fill in the blanks with our own imaginations.  Call it, the award for gorgeous impressionism.

Let us be lovers, we’ll marry our fortunes together

I’ve got some real estate here in my bag

So we bought a pack of cigarettes, and Mrs. Wagner pies

And we walked off to look for America

Cathy, I said, as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburg

Michigan seems like a dream to me now

It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw

And I’ve come to look for America

Laughin’ on the bus, playing games with the faces

She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy

I said be careful, his bowtie is really a camera

Toss me a cigarette, I think there’s one in my raincoat

We smoked the last one an hour ago

So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine

And the moon rose over an open field

Cathy, I’m lost, I said, though I knew she was sleeping

I’m empty and I’m aching and I don’t know why

Countin’ the cars on the New Jersey turnpike

They’ve all come to look for America, all come to look for America

Now here’s another guy who is among my top 5 favorite lyricists.  Alan Lerner was one of the few lyricists who were probably better known than his composer, Fritz Lowe.  Alan wrote Brigadoon, My Fair Lady, Camelot and a few others of similar magnitude.  Here’s one of my favorite Lerner lyrics.  From Brigadoon.

This is hard to say, but as I wandered through the lea,

I felt for just a fleeting moment that I suddenly was free of being lonely.

Then I closed my eyes and saw the very reason why.

I saw a man with his head bowed low.

His heart had no place to go.

I looked and I thought to myself with a sigh:

There but for you go I.

I saw a man walking by the sea,

Alone with the tide was he.

I looked and I thought as I watched him go by:

There but for you go I.

Lonely men around me, trying not to cry,

Till the day you found me, there among them was I.

I saw a man who had never known a love that was all his own.

I thought as I thanked all the stars in the sky:

There, but for you, go I.

Beautifully crafted, intelligently written, simple, and yet deep.  Kudos goes to Fritz Lowe also for a gorgeous melody.

But for me the all-time love song lyric, the winner of this lifetime’s Ira award, has to go to Alan Lerner for our next winner.

If ever I would leave you

It wouldn’t be in summer.

Seeing you in summer I never would go.

Your hair streaked with sunlight,

Your lips red as flame,

Your face with a luster

That puts gold to shame!

But if I’d ever leave you,

It couldn’t be in autumn.

How I’d leave in autumn I never will know.

I’ve seen how you sparkle

When fall nips the air.

I know you in autumn

And I must be there.

And could I leave you

Running merrily through the snow?

Or on a wintry evening

When you catch the fire’s glow?

If ever I would leave you,

How could it be in springtime?

Knowing how in spring I’m bewitched by you so?

Oh, no! Not in spring-time!

Summer, winter or fall!

No, never could I leave you at all!

Stay tuned for the next couple of nights as we romp through the great lyrics of the American songbook.  If you’re a bit of a lyricist, you won’t want to miss this.  If you’re just a person who loves a great song, you’re in for a treat.

Even More Inspiration

• Grieving In Silence
• The Ira Awards Part 3
• The Ira Awards Part 2
• I Think On These Things
• Grateful
• Top 3 Inspirational – Part 5

The Missus and I just love dogs.  If we’re walking down the sidewalk and a dog on a leash comes our way, she’s immediately down on her knees with a big grin on her face as the dog approaches usually wagging away happy to see her.

Living in NYC we don’t own one.  It’s one of the great disappointments of my adulthood.  Too rough on the dog.  We travel too much.  Too busy to walk one properly.  And then there’s the leash…

The lot of dogs today has become unfortunate.  When I was a kid, dogs roamed free in my neighborhood.  They all hung together and we kids knew them all by name.  Roaming free was never any trouble.  Occasionally you might hear of a dog bite, but not nearly as often as you’d hear of a people fight.

I was 6 years old sitting on the living room floor with my brother, Jim, after opening presents around the tree late Christmas morning with my back to the door.  I remember looking up into Jim’s astonished face as he looked up behind me.  As I turned around, there was my father standing in the doorway holding a 6 week old collie puppy in his arms.

What ensued was a burst of joy yet unheard in the Link household.  We got a dog!!!

Our first dog became our only dog and eventually, the only dog of my life.  Rusty, as we named him, lived with us, played with us, ate with us, protected us and died with us over the span of 16 years.  He was my first friend.  He was simply one of the family.  Mom and Dad’s kids were named Jim and Peter and Rusty.

He was kind.  Now you normally don’t think of dogs as kind, but Rusty was.  One day Fritz, who couldn’t stop chasing cars finally got hit by one in the street right out in front of our house.  We were disturbed from lunch by the honking of horns in our normally quiet and uneventful suburban neighborhood.  As we a rushed to the front door and looked out, there stood a line of cars about 10 deep – a virtual traffic jam for our quiet Briargate Lane.  All of the cars were stopped and honking away impatiently.

There stood our Rusty in the middle of the street over the body of a dying Fritz refusing to let the cars go by, protecting his pal from the metal monsters, barking at the line of cars who honked back.  Not until we dragged poor Fritzie to the side of the road did Rusty leave the scene and let the cars go around.  By the way, you’ll be glad to know that Fritz lived to eventually run with Rusty another day.

Rusty was smart.  If you were sitting in the TV room and said to Rusty, “Hey Rusty, go into the living room.”  He’d get up wagging and go into the living room.  He didn’t speak English, but he understood it.

Each morning at breakfast Mom made Rusty a piece of rye toast with butter which Dad would feed to him in bite-sized pieces.  Rusty would sit patiently at Dad’s feet until his big moment not taking his eyes off Dad.  When the big moment came, Rusty would leap to his feet nearly wagging his furry behind off and oh so tenderly take each piece from Dad’s fingers and chomp it down.  It was my brother’s and my job to remind him, “Chew it, Rusty, chew it!”  Otherwise he’d swallow it whole.

Once finished, Dad would dust his hands off showing Rusty that it was all gone and Rusty would lie back down to wait for the next morning’s treat.

Rusty knew he wasn’t allowed to be in the dining room and he knew he wasn’t allowed to beg at the table.  But on the big occasions, when the hams or turkeys or steaks cooking filled the house with the perfume that made a dog’s mouth water and their dreams turn to gravy, Rusty would wander about the house restless and wait patiently for dinner to start.  Then he would lie at the door of the dining room with his nose literally on the door jam – the line of demarcation.

It was my job to keep that nose outside the boundary of the dining room as we ate and I’d have to get up several times during the meal and go over to where Rusty lay and adjust his nose back behind the line.  He would have actually cheated an inch and a half or sometimes, especially at turkey times, I might catch him cheating up to a whole inch!  So I’d get up from the table and commandingly say, “ Hey, get that nose behind the line!”  Rusty would look up at me with sad, mournful and mostly guilty eyes and dutifully pull his nose back that ever-so-important inch.

Rusty was my pal.  We rolled together, we chased one another, he rode on the toboggan with me, we explored the woods together.  The one thing he wouldn’t do with us was watch TV.  He just couldn’t get into it.  When we’d watch, he’d sleep.  Why am I not surprised?  Like I said, Rusty was one smart dog.

Rusty was loyal.  One day my dad and Rusty walked up the street to the country club together.  Dad went in the front door of the clubhouse and since dogs weren’t allowed, Dad said to Rusty, “Rusty, wait here until I get back”.  Rusty lay down near the door to wait.

Dad did his business and when he left the club an hour or so later, he forgot about Rusty and left through the back door of the clubhouse and walked home across the golf course.  For the next two days, no one could find Rusty.  This was very unlike him.  He was always there for his next meal and he slept in the basement every night on his bed.

We would go out the door every couple of hours and call him, but he was nowhere to be found.  We were all deeply worried.  Then Dad remembered.

We all walked up to the clubhouse together with hope in our hearts, and, yup, you guessed it, there he was, still waiting outside the front door where Dad had left him wagging his tail to beat the band.

He got a double dinner that night and two pieces of rye toast the next morning for breakfast.

And, of course, I remember the day he died.  He had been having trouble getting up in the morning and could no longer walk down the basement stairs to his bed, but he could walk up them each morning for his toast, though it would take him some time.

On this particular morning we didn’t hear his paws on the stairs and so just before breakfast Mom said, “Peter, go downstairs and see how Rusty is.”  When I got down to his bed, there he was, but he couldn’t get up.  I sat down next to him and began to talk to him and he looked up at me with those big brown eyes and I remember thinking to myself, “Oh my God, he’s embarrassed.”  This magnificent collie was embarrassed.  He couldn’t get up.  It broke my heart.

Dad and I loaded him into the trunk of the car on a blanket.  I refused to ride in the car.  I had to ride in the trunk with Rusty.  When we got to the vet, Dad and Rusty went into the inner office and I sat in the waiting room.  I thought that they would give him a shot or something to make him all right.

When Dad came out and told me that the vet had “put Rusty away” at first I did not understand.  Then I got it.  I was furious.  I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.  I’m still crying at the thought.

My brother, Jim, was in college and standing in the lunch line when he read the news in a letter from Mom.  He broke down sobbing right there in front of all his friends.  My Dad said Rusty was irreplaceable.  There would never be another one like him, so there was never another dog.  We were fine with that.

But I’m not Dad.  Some day when I get out from under this steel canyon, I’m gonna get another dog.

Some day…

Even More Inspiration

• The Ira Awards Part 4
• The Ira Awards Part 3
• The Ira Awards Part 2
• The Ira Awards Part 1
• Much Ado About Nothing
• You’re Leaving Me

I’ve spent a lifetime searching for talent in others and I live in a place where it exists in droves – New York City – though we certainly don’t have a corner on it.  Actually I think each person has his/her talent.  Some people find it and develop it to a high degree; some people find it but let it founder and some people have it, but never have the opportunity to find it.

I’m fascinated by it and have basically dedicated my life to exposing it in others and developing it in myself. It’s why my partner, Jim Birch, and I founded and developed Watchfire Music.

It certainly is one of life’s special attributes. It draws us to one another like magnets. It elicits love from each of us like few other words.  It sparks immediate curiosity in each of us and inspires awe like nothing else.

People flock to it. Crowds pay ridiculous prices to get a peek at it. People stop in the dirty tunnels of the subways, late for work, to stand and gawk at it.

Most people connect it with show business and fame, but it runs far beyond just that. In fact it has little to do with fame.  I’ve known great teachers with talent and a house keeper with a superb talent for cleaning kitchens and a computer nerd who had an intuitive talent for fixing software that ran far beyond skill.

Some people have talents that people seem not to recognize, but they’re still talents. For instance, I can make my wife laugh at things that no one else on earth would ever laugh at. My own son has a talent for driving me crazy, and my dad had a talent for moving his toothpick nimbly around in his mouth with his tongue.

Then there are people like Judy Garland and Chick Corea and Rudolph Nureyev and John Lennon – giants of talent.  The list alone could go on for several pages.

My desk is covered with Post-its. They comprise the myriad reminders of all I have to do in life – each one (Call Brad Ross, Colin Boatman called, Sign Gracie Vandiver, Get contract from Richard Glasser, Raise Jenny’s key, Send Chariots to Alvin Ailey, Sound system for Eric Lennon) each one a human being with great talent. Each person has come into my life because of his or her talent.

I’m presently working with a young woman named Megan Neal. Her talent is as big as a house, yet she’s only yet discovered the front hall.  It’s my business to see the whole house. I get to show her around her own house and help her discover the rooms and attics that lay waiting for her.

I’ve had the opportunity to watch my wife’s (Julia Wade) talent grow by leaps and bounds these past years. I’ve played my part in that and it’s been one of the most satisfying experiences of my life.

I work with a graphic designer, Watchfire Music’s Sara Gray, who each day churns out one gorgeous creation after another and runs a team of designers around the country.

I worked for over 20 years with the talent of Jenny Burton – a talent that never failed to drop my jaw and make me laugh at the wonders of life.

I share ownership of a company with a partner whose talents as a businessman and entrepreneur run a different course than mine, but amaze me each and every day of this journey together.

I live and breathe each day to explore my own.

Even More Inspiration

• Random Thoughts – On The City Of Inspiration
• The Ira Awards Part 4
• The Ira Awards Part 3
• The Ira Awards Part 2
• The Ira Awards Part 1
• Most Inspirational Dog

When you own the masters of the music or have legally licensed the music from another party, you have the right to give it away for free. Otherwise it’s not really free music. As we’ve been discussing more and more, it’s called stealing.

If you file share or illegally download music, it’s the same as ripping off a can of soup from the local supermarket.  Stick it in your bag when nobody’s looking and hope you can make it out of the store without being caught. If you get caught, ya’ go to jail.

If the supermarket decides to introduce you to the new brand of soup and give the can away to you as a promotional item, then that’s their choice. Then that can of soup is truly free.

It feels silly to me to have to state the blatantly obvious, but unfortunately in today’s world this simple, practical honesty should be understood by us humans, but isn’t.

Instead, the entire music business has tanked because a couple of generations of people decided to start stealing and nobody did a thing to stop them. Now small efforts are being made, but very few are being arrested and even fewer are getting even slaps on the wrist. Stealing from the music business is simply becoming a way of life.

This is one of the most cock-eyed things I’ve ever seen in my life. And it’s happening to me!

So everybody now! Rush over to your windows. Throw open your doors! Lean out of those windows and scream to all who might listen! “I’m not going to take it anymore! I’m not going to take it!”

OK, so now I’m doing it, but I’m the only one! There’s nobody else leaning out screaming! What happened?! I guess everybody is sitting on their couches listening to their swiped music on their headphones and didn’t hear me.

Now everybody! Get up! Fight for justice! Protect the Artists!!! What has happened to Integrity?

Ah, fooey! Nobody cares… Everybody’s too busy rippin’…

If this sounds like sour grapes, it is!  What ever happened to my royalties? What’s the deal with my latest ASCAP check? It’s a quarter of what it used to be and I’m four times more prolific! What am I missing here?

My money.

With all that said, Watchfire music is giving away free music. It seems the thing to do these days. At WFM, each artist agrees to give away one of their songs off of each CD for nothing. Pretty good deal. In my nearly 40 years in the music business, I’ve never seen that happen until the last couple of years.

Do you know how hard it is to make one single – to write it, craft the lyric, find the key, record the track, record the background vocals, the lead vocal, mix it and master it, etc.? It costs thousands of dollars for that one song and countless hours of one’s life. (Remember, this is a rant.)

And then you give it away to promote the rest of your work. And you have to give away one of your best songs because you want to represent yourself well.

Oh, oh, oh, it can be a bitter pill…  In no other industry that I can think of is a practice so ludicrous as this practiced.

Now here’s the real eye-opener:

We’ve been saying how some companies give away free songs to attract customers?  Watchfire Music is now giving away free Inspirational albums!

We’re so intent to turn you on to our great artists and their Inspirational music that we’re giving away a choice of 3 different genre specific compilation CDs to lift your life, soothe your soul, shock your system and float your boat.

Here’s a great way to get to know our Inspirational artists. Just click here, go to our home page, look for the Sweeeet Music Giveaway ad (this ad can be found on all pages of WFM as well), opt in and instantly download one of the following free 10-song CDs of Inspirational music.

Gospel Smooth – A laid-back compilation of great songs prepared by us just for your quieter moments of reflection

Christian Hits – A terrific anthology of the best of the best of our artists and their Inspirational music

Gospel Alive! – An up-tempo blast of fresh new thought and energies perfect to get you up and get you goin’

Why are we doing this? We all, WFM artists, WFM staff, WFM backers and even I want you to get to know our music.  So we’re going to go to great lengths to do so. Even though no one makes a cent.

On top of it all, it’s the best of the best. I promise!

Take advantage of this tremendous offer. This is no ad. This is my personal blog. This comes wrenchingly from the heart.

For more inspirational music, thoughts and ideas from Peter Link,
please visit Watchfire Music.

Stay tuned for more Inspiration

• Siyahamba-1st Installment
• Feed the Hungry – Heal the Thought
• Insight: Larry Steelman
• Insight – Cy Young Aesop’s Fables For The 21st Century
• Siyahamba – Cape Town Installment 3
• A Beautiful Mistake

Watchfire Music

Looking for Inspiration on a thematic or seasonal level? We’ve got just the music for you. We’ll be releasing each month, twelve months a year, a compilation CD of the best of Watchfire on a given seasonal theme.  Want to get to know our artists better?  Here’s a good and simple way to do it and enjoy the Inspirational offerings of their music.

Our first compilation CD will be available this November:

The Watchfire Music Collection
Thanksgiving
November 2009

Then we will follow each successive month with a new full album offering available for your purchase and prepared especially to give you Inspirational insights into the following monthly themes:

December – Holiday
January – New Beginnings
February – Love
March – The Winds of Change
April – Easter
May – Springing to Life
June – Abundance
July – America
August – The Joys of Summer
September – Reflections
October – Harvest

These are collectables that you won’t want to miss. The best of the best from all the great Watchfire Music Artists. Starting soon – in November!

Stay tuned for more Inspiration

• Siyahamba-1st Installment
• Feed the Hungry – Heal the Thought
• Insight: Larry Steelman
• Insight – Cy Young Aesop’s Fables For The 21st Century
• Siyahamba – Cape Town Installment 3
• A Beautiful Mistake