Mother's Day - 10/04/16 01:20 PM
https://soundcloud.com/andyandersonmusic/mothers-day
My first submission here. I wrote it (no co-writers) about my mother who died from Alzheimer’s complications in 2014. It was horribly sad, but at some level was a relief as dementia had finally consumed her. The cover photo is her in 1936. She has a little flower in her hand that I find so sweet....
Home studio. I’m a real novice here, not formally trained in music (can’t read it, a decent guitarist), and technically challenged, most DAWs beyond my capabilities. I used MixPad. I did not track the instruments, but here’s what I came up with. The song is all mine, Copyrighted prior to this BIAB version, vocals are all mine and all instruments are BIAB. 84 bpm in G.
518 Elec Bass, 1947 Mandolin, ShakerEven8ths, 2336 Viola, 1761 Acoustic Guitar (Strumming), 1728 Acoustic Piano. You are welcome to suggest any different instruments.
Mother’s Day
Written by Andy Anderson ©
On Sunday afternoon I leave my house and take a drive
out to see my mother at the home where she resides
It’s a very pleasant journey when the weather is OK
and I rarely fail to visit on that day
I arrive just after two, check-in at the desk
where they tell me how she’s doing, as I sign in as a guest
The staff there is so friendly and they know me every time
They remark on my devotion and I tell them
I don’t mind
(Chorus)
I gather all my courage, as my hopes come crashing down
Prayers and pleas, and what-could-bes...
Shattered on the ground
I amble down the corridor and pass the large dance hall
where the residents take their meals, and the staff observes them all
I wonder if the bingo cage was spun the night before
and if anybody…. ever really danced….
on that floor
I come to room eleven, catch my sweet old mom
gazing out the window, at robins on the lawn
As lightly as I can… I rap my fingers on the jamb,
she turns and smiles, and asks me…… who I am…..
I tell her I’m her son and let the sadness fade away
I ask her how she’s doing
wish her Happy Mother’s Day
She tells me all about a choir who came last night
children singing Christmas carols…little faces…
shining bright
Though I’ve heard this many times..
I act as if it’s new
and hope she cannot hear…… my heart break in two
I nod and I envision children singing for my mom
Unaware, she’s the Ghost of Christmas
Yet To Come
(Chorus)
And next week I’ll return
To see my mother in her room
Someday I’m gonna miss these times together…
on Sunday afternoon.
My first submission here. I wrote it (no co-writers) about my mother who died from Alzheimer’s complications in 2014. It was horribly sad, but at some level was a relief as dementia had finally consumed her. The cover photo is her in 1936. She has a little flower in her hand that I find so sweet....
Home studio. I’m a real novice here, not formally trained in music (can’t read it, a decent guitarist), and technically challenged, most DAWs beyond my capabilities. I used MixPad. I did not track the instruments, but here’s what I came up with. The song is all mine, Copyrighted prior to this BIAB version, vocals are all mine and all instruments are BIAB. 84 bpm in G.
518 Elec Bass, 1947 Mandolin, ShakerEven8ths, 2336 Viola, 1761 Acoustic Guitar (Strumming), 1728 Acoustic Piano. You are welcome to suggest any different instruments.
Mother’s Day
Written by Andy Anderson ©
On Sunday afternoon I leave my house and take a drive
out to see my mother at the home where she resides
It’s a very pleasant journey when the weather is OK
and I rarely fail to visit on that day
I arrive just after two, check-in at the desk
where they tell me how she’s doing, as I sign in as a guest
The staff there is so friendly and they know me every time
They remark on my devotion and I tell them
I don’t mind
(Chorus)
I gather all my courage, as my hopes come crashing down
Prayers and pleas, and what-could-bes...
Shattered on the ground
I amble down the corridor and pass the large dance hall
where the residents take their meals, and the staff observes them all
I wonder if the bingo cage was spun the night before
and if anybody…. ever really danced….
on that floor
I come to room eleven, catch my sweet old mom
gazing out the window, at robins on the lawn
As lightly as I can… I rap my fingers on the jamb,
she turns and smiles, and asks me…… who I am…..
I tell her I’m her son and let the sadness fade away
I ask her how she’s doing
wish her Happy Mother’s Day
She tells me all about a choir who came last night
children singing Christmas carols…little faces…
shining bright
Though I’ve heard this many times..
I act as if it’s new
and hope she cannot hear…… my heart break in two
I nod and I envision children singing for my mom
Unaware, she’s the Ghost of Christmas
Yet To Come
(Chorus)
And next week I’ll return
To see my mother in her room
Someday I’m gonna miss these times together…
on Sunday afternoon.