Tag Archives: end-of-times

Mountains Come, Mountains Go

Mountains Come, Mountains Go

 

 

In 1999, I collaborated over the ‘net with an English techno kid named Deakin Scott. He’d heard my trip hop stuff on the old mp3.com and he asked if I wanted to write a vocal part for a 140 beat per minute mix he was working on.

He emailed me a work mix as a guide. I listened over and over, playing with different ideas. Finally, in frustration, I picked up my acoustic guitar and started hashing out some classic rock and roll chords, unrelated to Deakin’s music.

There was, in that first exploration, a kind of teen angel sort of vibe and when I surrendered to that vibe, the lyrics below pretty much came out whole. They play off the teen tragedy vibe, focusing on the protagonist’s feelings in the moment of loss.

I don’t mean to trivialize the emotional resonance of the lyrics for me, though, at all. I really wanted, in my small and clumsy way, to explore the tragic beauty of love and inevitable loss. But… see… you can’t talk about that. Or it sounds like, well, that, and, yet, is simultaneously somehow too personal. So I like the ironic distance afforded by reworking a classic form.

The chords I came up with are reflected in the version below, for the most part. The delivery to Deakin’s 140 bpm music precluded conventional singing, so what melody there was was somewhat irrelevant. Nailing the lyric rhythmically at that tempo was challenging, but after much work I came up with a set of vocals I could really live with.

I emailed them the vocals (bare and attached to his mix as an example/guide) with careful instructions on how to set them on the beat in the mix, since there’s a fair amount of syncopation. Somehow, those instructions must have got lost.

Deakin’s music sounded even better than the guide track I’d worked with — but the vocals I’d sent him were dropped in just a tiny bit off the mark. I explained my concern to him, but he said he’d fallen in love with the mix just the way it was (which I usually take to be code for I’m working on my next project, shouldn’t you?) Anyhow, I can’t make my mix available for download, but broadband users can hear it here (or at the link below).

You’ll find a link for a ‘studio version’ as well — that’s my music and vocals — and while the chords are essentially those I use in the AYoS version, here, the production and arrangement are considerably different… so three three quite different versions.

Today’s acoustic version:

 

Deakin Scott/TK Major (TK’s Mix):

 

Mountains Come, Mountains Go

Mountains come and mountains go
but a love like ours will surely show
the stars themselves to be a fling
I’ve seen the End of Time
It’s no big thing

The ocean deep is just a pond
I throw my coat for you to walk upon
The waves are tears that mist my eyes
The mighty wind is
just your sleepy sigh

When I sing to you the angels sing along
and yet I know there’s something wrong
The sky above is in your eyes
and I know that means
you’re lying on the ground

The sirens freeze my blood is cold
suddenly the world’s just too damn old
the future fading in your eyes
time and space collapse
in one last sigh

Mountains come and mountains go
but a love like ours will surely show
the stars themselves to be a fling
I’ve seen the End of Time
It’s no big thing

1999 08 01
(c)1999 TK Major

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This Perfect Day

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A perfect day at the end of time.

The day I wrote this song, cherry blossoms drifted across impossibly blue skies. it was a warm day in January and the air was sweet with the smell of the tiny floating flowers.

I found myself thinking about stories I’d heard of the day they dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima… how it was a beautiful day with blue skies and people were in a good mood, despite the war troubles.

And in my mind I saw a young couple walking down a street, maybe in East LA, his hand in her back pocket and his nose nuzzling her behind the ear. When I see it, there are lowered Hondas and people in the park. It’s a beautiful day.

Later, they make love all night as the rain comes down. He holds her in his arms. A single tear rolls down her cheek.

Today’s acoustic version:

Full version:

This Perfect Day

petals drift through the warm spring air
got my hand on your butt got my nose in your hair
got my heart on my sleeve and it’s all too clear
everything i wanted is all right here

this perfect time this perfect place
a perfect tear slides down your face
It’s such a shame
It’s such a shame…

the rain comes down all night long
we just lie there until the dawn
the world’s in your eyes and you’re in my arms
everything I wanted right here all along

this perfect time this perfect place…

one last kiss one last sigh
one last wish though you know it’s a lie
One more laugh just to not have to cry
I love you baby til the end of time

this perfect time this perfect place
a perfect tear slides down your face
It’s such a shame
It’s such a shame…

(c)1999 Thomas K. Major
1998-01-08

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Time for Another Flood

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For a long time now, I’ve had a couple of extended works in mind. One of them I’ve mentioned before: the Codename Baby opera. (I just made that name up, just now. Whaddya think? No, I didn’t think so, either. Still airballin’.) That work, of course, as envisioned, will cannibalize a bunch of my songs featuring the Baby character, drawing a tragic arc through those existing sets of lyrics. (I mean, it’s opera, right? You ever hear of a happy opera? Right.)

Anyhow, while I didn’t have it specifically in mind when I wrote this grim jeremiad, another project bouncing from the back burner to the warming tray and back again has been a novel or other work built around a powerful mega-preacher. I’ve toyed with it as the story of a crisis of faith, a murder mystery, a love story, an end-of-times thriller, a Faustian spinoff… I try to be flexible.

After I wrote this song, I realized it fit the fuzzy extended concept of that project, which eventually became known as the Flood project.

Approach it within whatever context your own mind cares to wrap around it — including that of a plain ol’ mad-as-hell rant against mankind, which, of course, at core, it is. (I get paid by the comma. You knew that, right?)


Time for Another Flood

People think heaven is behind the sky
People thinking crazy things and not thinking why
They think the answer’s going to fall from above
I think the answer is another flood

It’s time, time for another flood
It’s time, baby, time for another flood

People live in wickedness and dwell in greed
They’ll murder their brother to get more than they need
They even rape the Mother and swim in her blood
I call on the Father for another flood

It’s time, time for another flood
It’s time, baby, time for another flood

All of this truth has all been a lie
Our immortal souls have already died
The time for salvation has come and gone
and all that’s coming now is another flood

It’s time, time for another flood
It’s time, baby, time for another flood

(C)1991, TK Major

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A Bird Hung in the Sky

A bird hung in the sky...

I wrote the first two verses of this dark little slice of apocalyptica back in the early or mid 70’s and then added another 2 verses — only one of which survived — in 1986.

My initial vision had been general collapse of civilization (as we know it, heh)… but by 1986 I was bitterly convinced that we were squandering any last chances we might have to not plunge the world into an irreversible spiral into gashouse global warming.

(Oh well… it’s like watching a high speed accident on a rainy day… you yell as the oblivious drivers hurtle toward each other, their windows up, their minds filled with details that are going to seem very, very insignificant in about a second and a half. I hate that sound. Where was I? Oh, yeah… the end of the world. As we know it.)

Anyhow, as we artistic types know all too well (or oughta), sincerity and good intentions typically make bad art. As a friendly warning against good intentions, I have included the usually excised last verse here — just so you can see how bad things could get if I wasn’t looking out for y’all.

Now, mind you, by the time I got to the last verse, I was laughing myself off my chair — I knew I would never use it. But I view songwriting like I view other excretory processes — you don’t stop just ’cause you don’t like what’s coming out.

That’s what editing is for and, if you brave those usually excised last two verses, you’ll see why, for this writer, at any rate, editing can be — you know — real important.


A Bird Hung in the Sky

A bird hung in the sky
dipped and whirled and then it spun
A bird hung in the sky
dipped and whirled and then it spun
It flew between the clouds
and dove right into the sun

I stood upon a hill
looked up into the sky
I stood upon a hill
looked up into the sky
The sky turned black
as the sun burnt into my eyes

Don’t the city sure look strange
cars scattered all around
The city sure looks strange
cars scattered all around
Don’t the people look funny
lying there dead on the ground

[excised verse]
Six years underground
Six years of living hell
Six years underground
ever since the ionosphere dispelled
Our old friend Mr. Sun
turned out to be the Fiery King of Hell

(C) 1975,1986,2005, TK Major

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