Saturday, April 2nd, 2016

Songs of Solace, Songs Of Pain:
On becoming familiar with disease and distance

distance

There’s so much to write: musings stuck deep in the recesses of my mind, dams thick with foam and finesse to study whorl by whorl. And there’s so much to write about, too, as 2016 pours forth a plethora of coverfolk delights, backlogged and still disorganized in the inbox and an ever-growing infinity of open tabs.

I’ve tried, halfheartedly, to pick up the threads, and weave them into the words we’ve come to expect here. But for a month, nothing’s been coming out coherent.

And it was killing me. Until I put down the words, and rediscovered music.

I’ve written about my girls here – about their struggles, and ours – several times in the last couple of years, since the elderchild was diagnosed three years ago (Everybody Hurts: On Discovering A Child’s Illness) and then again, when the wee one took her turn (Lord Protect My Child: Songs for Our Children). I’m tired of writing about it, honestly.

But behind the blog, and the public face, their disease eats away at them, and us. Being separated across the state drains us; nothing is settled, and in some ways, even as we come to find familiarity in the routine, things are still getting worse. I go to work with my heart still at home, or worse, on the road, as my wife bounces them from appointment to appointment, together and alone, and my mind is ever on them: distracted, and dense with thoughts of what might happen next. I ache for the way things were, once, when the hardest things about life were the natural growing pains that anyone could recognize.

Today, with the wee one still sleeping through her pain upstairs, and the elderchild and her mother camped out in the hospital ward, back for drains and rest just weeks after her first emergency surgery, I find my very first chance in four full weeks to clear the brain, and begin again.

But it’s a rainy day outside: grey, and quiet. I’ve lit the fire; the dog sleeps on the couch beside me. And although I tried today to revel in the joys of the delicate and the hearty that have begun to fill my personal playlist, what I’ve really been listening to is the songs I go to when I need solace.

Other than to note that my personal collection of bittersweet music to steep in has grown a bit since 2013, there’s little to say about today’s second-round sorrowsongs. When Elvis Costello says that writing about music is like dancing about architecture, he means that criticism and analysis are removed, abstract, although sometimes illuminating, in a purely emotive way.

Ultimately, anything I could say about yet another playlist of loneliness and grief is only a shadow puppet representation of the real emotional impact of the art form done well and deep.

Sometimes you just need to feel.

May we all find solace in music, and in the world.

Everybody Hurts, Volume 2: A Cover Lay Down Mix [zip!]

Previously on Cover Lay Down:

Category: Mixtapes 5 comments »

5 Responses to “Songs of Solace, Songs Of Pain:
On becoming familiar with disease and distance”

  1. JB
    April 2nd, 2016 at 12:26 pm

    Love and Good Thoughts from Manchester UK
  2. Kurt
    April 2nd, 2016 at 2:51 pm

    hang in there….
  3. Jena
    April 2nd, 2016 at 3:38 pm

    Sending good thoughts and strength from rural Alberta, and a hope that you continue to find solace in the wonderful music you’ve shared with us over the years.
  4. Dave
    April 2nd, 2016 at 7:36 pm

    I admire you for being able to express your worrisome thoughts in a public blog.
    Your sharing may be cathartic for all of us.
    Gosdpeed to you and your family.
    Regards, Dave.
  5. Wilhelm
    April 4th, 2016 at 5:31 pm

    Thanks for sharing. My best wishes to you and your family. Stay strong!

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