This song did not at all go where I thought it would! It started out sort of like guitar homework--I started taking lessons last year and a couple of the things I have been trying to work on are palm muting and tremolo picking (after hearing my 1200th shitty attempt at "Misirlou," which I still cannot play properly, my husband was like "why are you so desperate to learn this guitar technique? it's not very useful!" which had never really occurred to me but is probably true in the grand scheme of things).
So I said to myself "I will write a song with palm muted galloping guitars and then I will be forced to play it!" and then I spent about a million years recording poorly-palm-muted rhythm guitars that are not even very audible in the final mix; and then I said to myself "this would sound cool with tremolo picking!" and spent another million years recording a not-very-skillfully-tremolo-picked surf rock lead line even though it was not really intended to go in that direction originally. Originally, I wanted to put some sitar in but I guess that will have to go into a different song. Anyway, the recording part of it was challenging but fun!
And then I decided maybe it needed some vocals and after an evening with some friends at the local dive bar I ended up writing a bunch of kind of dark impressionistic lyrics that have nothing to do with the beach or whatever, they are kind of more about going to the Caribou Tavern in the snow. (Kind of dark, but also there's a Canned Heat joke in there and a Star Wars joke in there so also kind of ridiculous.)
I dunno, it's OK, I liked the instrumental and I like the lyric but I somehow like the overall song less than the sum of its parts. Maybe I'll warm up to it. On to the next song!
Oh, and the sound of waves is "Surf on Sand, Army Bay, Whangaparoa" from the BBC sound effects archive. http://bbcsfx.acropolis.org.uk/?cat=surf
I hear the boots upon the ground tonight
The rose upon the cheek of the libertine
And all the lost boys will be found tonight
Tasting whiskey cokes and kerosene
Cold hands cradle the flame of my memories
Do you see the flicker of your name?
And in the lamplight in the snow tonight
The flexing of a glove outlined in black
Hollow fingers like a new hand for a hermit crab
Cloud City was pretty but I'm never going back
Cold hands reach for a glove to slip into
To listen to, to illuminate, to love
And I've just been wasting time
I could have been in some field so far from here
With the sun burning on my shoulders
And someone breathing summer in my ear
I hear the lapping of the wolf tonight
Incinerator glow in a highball glass
Canned Heat flutes the air in the bar like a manticore
I hate it but I know all things must pass
Cold hands strike cold like the little match girl
Matchmaker, will the tinder spark to life?