Hands up if sometimes HIVE is just about catharsis? Yeah you. Those posts where you just have to get it off your chest right? If you're a mate of mine on here you're probably well aware of how I've been feeling and coping this past fortnight. Dear @trucklifefamily encouraged me to keep writing about it - and I will, when I need to, but it's probably time I shift focus. I believe in letting it all out and leaning in, but I also don't believe in dwelling or wallowing.
So. Let's just get this done. This one's my Dad's funeral playlist. There's four songs, but I"m sure @ablaze will forgive me for breaking the three tune Tuesday rule, given the circumstances. They were the hardest tunes to choose and were for the service. It was hard not to bulldoze my Mum and sister with my own choices, but in the end I actually got three that I thought were perfect and they agreed.
So, the first one has been in my head ever since and I'm desperately trying to get it out. I wake up with it in my head every day. I'd never heard of it before Dad played it for me a couple of weeks before he passed. He didn't just play it once, he played it about six times. I knew that's what he intended it for although he wouldn't say as he refused to plan his own funeral. When I told Mum that and we listened, it became a dead certain for the opening of the service.
This band were formed in '69 but the song was from a 1988 album with a new lead singer after the original one, Lowell George, died. It possesses a bittersweet sense of longing, and a real sense of loss and nostalgia, which of course suited the occasion perfectly and had us all in tears.
After the celebrant spoke for a bit we had the slide show of photos which was really cool. It needed two songs - the first is a song Dad and I absolutely loved called 'Visions of Johanna'. I mentioned this to Mum and she suggested we couldn't torture everyone with Dylan, so what about the Chris Smithers version? Perfect. We may have been Dylan fans but not everyone is. I loved we chose this as Dad and I always had this one as our favourite. Smither is an American singer-songwriter and guitarist known for his mixture of folky blues with an intricate fingerpicking style and soulful voice.
Then we moved the tempo up a bit to an old Ry Cooder classic. I was brought up on Ry Cooder. I'd actually gone for a massage and left them with the task of finding the third song and Mum came up with this one.
We finished with 'The Well' - totally different to the other tunes. I'd always adored Bill Callahan aka Smog, and Dad and I shared love of this song. He used to play it super loud. My mum and sister were hesitant verging on no, until Mum said, well, let's give it a listen again, he did used to play it loud ALOT. From the first notes, both of them said YES! As so it was that Dad's coffin was born out to this unusual, simple, beautiful song. I actually danced around the house to it the day after he died - it was one of the few of 'his' tunes I could listen to without crying.
Please read the lyrics if you can't listen to the song. It's all about confronting inner turmoil, but there's a real joy in it, especially in the emotional release of shouting into the well. And I love the speaker feeling sorry about the consequences of his actions and doing something to rectify it...that's Dad all over.
I could not work
So I threw a bottle into the woods
And then I felt bad
For the doe paw
And the rabbit paw
So I went looking for the pieces
Of the bottle that I threw
Because I couldn’t work
I went deep
Further than i could throw
And i came upon an old abandoned well
All boarded over
With a drip hanging from the bucket still
Well I watched that drip but it would not drop
I watched that drip but it would not drop
I knew what I had to do
Had to pull those boards off the well
When I got the boards off
I stared into the black black black
And you know I had to yell
Just to get my voice back
I guess everybody has their own thing
That they yell into a well
I gave it a coupla hoots
A hello
And a fuck all y’all
I guess everybody has their own thing
That they yell into a well
And as I stood like that
Staring into the black black black
I felt a cool wet kiss
On the back of my neck
Dang
I knew if I stood up
The drip would roll down my back
Into no man’s land
So I stayed like that
Staring into the black black black
Well they say black is all colours at once
So I gave it my red rage my yellow streak
The greenest parts of me
And my blues I knew just what I had to do
I had to turn around and go back
And let that drip roll down my back
And I felt so bad about that
But wouldn’t you know
When I turned to go
Another drip was forming
On the bottom of the bucket
And I felt so good about that
