My song "Lament" is brand new, and in fact, I've only played it once live. I have had it written for about a year now, but it is not meant to be played solo acoustic, or with a band.
The music is heavily influenced by Rufus Wainwright, in particular his song "Agnus Dei." Angus Dei is Latin for "Lamb of God," and the song itself is so incredibly moving and magnificent. It employs an entire orchestra while Rufus sings over top of them:
"Agnus Dei
Qui tollis peccata mundi
Agnus dei
Agnus dei
Qui tollis peccata mundi
Dona nobis pacem
Dona nobis pacem
Pacem
Dona nobis pacem"
Which literally means:
"Lamb of God
Who takes away the sins of the world
Lamb of God
Lamb of God
Who takes away the sins of the world
Grant us peace
Grant us peace
Peace
Grant us peace"
These words are very straightforward to anyone raised Catholic or Christian. They are repeated several times over, with the music being the vehicle by which the meaning is conveyed. Classical music powerfully does this, and while I am certainly not an avid lover of classical music, I have been moved by Classical music and the non-verbal way it conveys emotion.
So, with my song, "Lament," I wanted to write a song where the music shaped and guided the feelings of the listener, as opposed to primarily the lyrics. In most my writing, the words are the most focused part of the song for me, and I felt I should step out of that.
Now, the words. I remember sitting in the backseat of Christina LaRocca's car, a dear friend of mine and great singer, and we had finished playing a show together in the Village. She offered to drive another friend home out to Canarsie in Brooklyn, and I was along for the trip. We were listening to the radio when Ingrid Michaelson's song "The Way I Am" came on. Being that everyone in the car knew Ingrid personally, and she was starting to completely explode onto the national music scene, we all were like "Hey!!!" when it came on.
Ingrid's music is always, always so intensely bittersweet. I think she is brilliant, and her business savvy is equally as brilliant. She helped to change and shape the music landscape. And, she put her entire soul into her record "Boys and Girls," and stayed true to the group of musicians that played with her from the start. Couldn't have happened to a nicer, more gracious woman.
However, I used to be very close to a member of her band, and we had an incredibly unfortunate, difficult, painful, and gut-wrenching falling out. I know now it was for the best that we part ways, but that certainly did not make it easy.
Anyways, the point is, hearing her song on the radio made me think of that friendship, and how sour it now was. And I how I honest-to-goodness did not miss it. My mourning of that relationship and bond was over. There were no more panic attacks, silent passes in the hallway, no more shit-talking to those close to me, and no more caring. I let go of the hold it had on me. I did not lament it anymore.
I started to sing the very first line of the song in the car then, and heard an orchestra in my head, but I did not really know how to quantify what I was hearing. I did not have anything to write with, and would just file the idea away with a bunch of other ideas I have.
When I came back to it a few days later, the phrase "I do not lament you anymore" seemed to jump off the page. What a strong yet vulnerable statement. I am telling you that I don't mourn you anymore. Isn't that still a sign of weakness? Are we ever really "over" someone, regardless of if it had romantic implications?
I was reminded of a prayer I used to recite when on retreat in college. I believe it was written by Thomas Merton, a Franciscan priest who had studied eastern religious meditation and spirituality, and was a pioneer of introducing such practices in Catholicism and Christianity. Particularly, he studied at St. Bonaventure University, where I was attending the retreat, in Olean, NY. The prayer is recited, line by line, and after each line you meditate on that particular phrase. It starts with one complete sentence, and each consecutive time it is recited, a word is knocked off, until you are read one word, "be." A command! To just exist. By then, you could attain a beautiful calm and center faster than any stimulus (like fresh tea) could provide. Here's the prayer:
"Be still and know that I am God.
Be still and know that I am.
Be still and know.
Be still.
Be."
The meanings of all those lines, when juxtaposed together, shed light on the meditative state: the first line charges you to employ physical restraint (to "be still"), mental retraint ( to "know"), and to calm anxiety (to "know that I am God"), and then broadens the scope. Through the first three lines, you wipe away the distractions of human life, until you finally are charged in the last line to simple "be." To me, the last line was always the toughest to accomplish. Existing without any other intrusion is so challenging, yet seems so easy. It is not a lazy or slouching state. It is a state of open-mindedness, of clear and empty thought. It is the state of the sponge about to be dipped into water.
So, that prayer has always stuck with me, and while I have not meditated on that for some time, I thought using the same literary device as that prayer with my one line, "I do not lament you anymore," could show the proud, yet vulnerable place someone is in when thinking things like that. Moreover, I constructed music that is parts bright, parts very dark, and parts very sad or longing, and it conveys more clearly the messages that each other lines hints at.
Here are the lyrics to "Lament":
I do not lament you anymore.
I do not lament you
I do not lament
I do not
I do
I do
I do not take chances with you.
I do not take chances
I do not take
I do not
I do
I do
So there is the song, very short, very to the point. A slightly bitter, yet more mature person is saying those words, and doing so from experience. The music will be entirely composed of strings - at least, that's the plan so far. Caleb and I are still working on this one. I am unsure how it will be received, but it's very out-of-the-ordinary for me. I wonder how it will live with the other songs on the album, but I feel it is important to share, as it hits at a specific, crucial moment of my life.
Thanks for reading! Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com should you wish to contribute towards making my CD! Any donation is so greatly appreciated, and you are forever a part of the record!
-John
www.myspace.com/johnschmitt
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