However, as I’ve been improving in the craft, I’ve watched the noble art of the craft plummet into the depths of despair.  Perhaps I’m being a bit dramatic here, but often, when I’m reading or hearing many of today’s lyrics, I find myself groaning over the cheesiness of the content and the hollow and paltry result of the lack of craft.

OK, you say, give it to us, Pete.  Do your thing.

So glad you asked…

Rhyming
I come from the world of the theater where rhymes had to rhyme (“shoe” does not rhyme with “blues” nor does “time” rhyme with “fine”) and if your rhymes ‘cheated’, you would be severely reprimanded by the critics.  I studied under the tutelage of Alan Lerner, one of our masters, (Brigadoon, My Fair Lady, Camelot) and he wrote perfect lyrics that rhymed, scanned to perfection and are still today treasures of the American Songbook (If Ever I Would Leave You, The Heather On The Hill, I’ve Grown Accustomed To Her Face, and on and on).  He would work, not hours, but weeks on one song lyric and, when presented, it would be a flawless piece of masterwork.

He turned me on to the one and only professional’s rhyming dictionary – the only one I’ve ever used and still highly recommend – The Clement Wood Rhyming Dictionary.  None others come close.  I keep one in each room of my apartment and hardly ever leave home without it.  With it, the world of rhymes is literally at your fingertips and every possibility is represented within its pages.  Short of the Bible, it’s my favorite book.

Rap music today has simply slaughtered the craft of rhyming.  I am in no way against Rap music.  It is a completely legitimate style of music representing the urban culture of today, but in it, most rappers rhyme with no regard to craft using any word in the vicinity of the vowel sound.  For instance not only can ‘street’ rhyme with ‘beep’, but it can also rhyme with ‘ease’ or even with ‘help’ because ‘help’ has an ‘e’ in it.

To my ear that’s a point off – any of those kind of false rhymes.  Ultimately they disappoint the listener’s ear and prove unsatisfactory.  The trouble is that we now have a couple of generations so used to bad or cheated rhymes that they don’t even know what to listen for in the first place.  And so it strikes me that the powerful tonality of rhyming is in jeopardy of being lost for generations.  The result of this ignorance of style is that bad rhyming has now spread into pop music and even the theater where it is unfortunately now accepted and used often without criticism.

Call me ancient and stuffy, but it’s said that the decline of a civilization is often first seen in the decline of its language.  Look around you, America, it’s like happnin’, you like know what I mean?

I’m a total hard-ass with my students when it comes to perfect rhyming.  Cheat once and you get a point off.  Get 5 points off and you have a mediocre song.  Get 10 points off and you better start over and get to work.

Scanning and Jamming
I spoke to a ‘professional’ lyricist the other day and mentioned that in her second verse her lyrics did not scan.  She said back to me, “What’s scan?”  I stood dumbfounded.  This is like saying to a musician, “ You’ve got a mistake in the third measure” and them saying back to you, “What’s a measure?”

The most powerful tool in popular music is repetition.  It’s how we learn a song and it’s why good songs are ‘sticky’ or considered to be memorable melodies – because they scan – each time you hear the hook it’s the same notes in the same rhythms scanning (repeating) perfectly.  Each time you hear the verse, the melody is exactly the same even though the words are different. Change a word or jam two words into the line where there should only be one, jam two or three syllables in where there should only be one and you lose the scan, you lose the repetition of the melody and confuse the ear of the listener.

So much of the music I hear today is ruined by lazy lyricists jamming words into melodies and fouling up the repetitions so that the listener’s ear is confused and the otherwise good melodies are ruined.  In perfect scanning the repeated melodies are perfectly repeated even though the words change keeping the integrity of the music.  Even the accents of the words – 1^st syllable/2^nd syllable, etc are honored in the repetition.  So much of what I hear today is junked up by amateur approaches where scanning is ignored and melodies are slaughtered.

On top of that riffing and licks are also confusing the listener’s ears all in the name of two generations of vocalists trying to be as brilliant as Mariah Carey.  I like Mariah Carey, but she singlehandedly destroyed melody for a couple of generations as vocal wannabe copiers trying to sing like her and forcing a twist and turn onto every note – a severe defect that I call being “lick happy” — turned melodies into a series of riffs.  Oh, get me my soapbox.  I’m feelin’ a rant comin’ on!

Enough.  I hope you get the point.  Bottom line: Proper scanning is crucial to repetition.  Repetition is crucial to commercial music.  Without each, music is just not memorable and becomes lost in the wash of mediocrity taking over our industry.

Ira Gershwin, Oscar Hammerstein, Alan Lerner, Lennon & McCartney, Billy Joel, Michael Jackson, Alan & Marilyn Bergman, Lorenz Hart, Irving Berlin, Johnny Mercer, Cole Porter – all followed the great traditions of true rhyming and perfect scanning.  It’s why their songs are still sung, played and remembered today.  These are the masters.  Don’t let their discoveries and work slide away in the dissolving of our language into mediocrity.

John Lennon's Original - "Imagine"

Disneyfied Retreads
And then there’s the content…  How many more “I want you, I need you, I love you” songs must we wade through?  Don’t we, as a people, have anything better to think and sing about?  When’s the last time you heard a great song with a new fresh lyric that wasn’t a retread of teenage discovery?  Certainly love is a most powerful subject to write about, but can’t we yet find something new and interesting to write about that has a new twist, a new insight?

Every time a new animated film comes out I groan at the feeble attempts of the omnipresent love song in the score.  They all sound as if they were written by a room full of people trying to write a hit instead of a one talented pro coming up with an original idea.

R&B music, long the bastion of solid lyrical writing especially in the Motown era, has now sunk to pandering the teenage mind consumed with sexual encounter.  I listen to some of these blatant sexual references and wonder if any of the writers of today ever listened to “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes” or “Baby It’s Cold Outside” or “My Funny Valentine” or even “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”.  Here were songs that smoldered in their sensuality without clobbering you over the head with blatancy.

Art evokes.  Commercialism steamrolls.  I’d rather a song tickle my fancy than slap my face.  I prefer discovering a rich dramatic moment rather than being deafened by the obvious.  Give me a song that stimulates my brain and softens my heart and I’ll carry that song with me in the back of my mind for the rest of my life.  After all, isn’t that why we write ‘em?

Summary
Every age has its mediocrity.  “Flat-Foot Floosey With A Floy Floy” had its moment in the sun in the 30s but not many of us go around singing it today.  But decades are not remembered for their mediocrity.  They are remembered for their ground-breaking flashes of brilliance.  What will this music generation sing to their kids?  “I Want Your Sex”?

My generation sings John Lennon’s “Imagine” and Paul Simon’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water”, Seals and Croft’s “Summer Breeze” and Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues” and The Beatles’ “Let It Be”.  I could go on… and I will – Stevie Wonder’s “I Wish” and Earth, Wind and Fire’s “September”, Billy Joel’s…

Even More Inspiration

• Wonderful
• Even Now
• Gabriel, Come Blow Your Horn
• My Body
• You Must Remember This!
• Love Is The Reason For Living

Keep it short.

No one has time anymore.

So keep it short.

Not sure I can…

Just not my style.

Never took to writing music for commercials.

60 seconds?

30 seconds??

No time to stretch my wings.

Yeah, I’m probably a bit long winded.

But I love to tell a good story.

Weave a good yarn.

I tend to put the problem on the other guy’s shoulders – the reader, the listener – the world.  Not my fault if they can’t hang in there.  Can’t slow down enough to consider something a little deeper.  Things are just going faster.  It’s a throw-away society.  No time to stop and think, to pause and pray, to sit back and dream, to lie down and do nothing.  We’re all trying to get somewhere when really we’re already there – only we just don’t know it.  Baba Ram Dass said, “Be here now.”  Eckart Tolle wrote The Power Of Now.  A best-seller.  Who had time to read it?  It appears that many did, so where are they and what are they doing about it?  Can’t we slow down enough to just sit and read?  Just sit and listen?  Does music have to get relegated to the background?  Someone said to me the other day, “I listened to your album while making dinner the other evening…”  I was crushed.  I hoped they liked the tunes…  Now I’m supposed to break this paragraph up into several for my blog post so that people will be more inclined to read it.  Long paragraphs will scare you away.  Did you know that?  Are you afraid?

There.

Fear gone?

Feeling better.

Want to read on?

OK, perhaps tomorrow…

Even More Inspiration

• Tempo
• The Organized Artist
• The Atheist
• Send A Signal
• Chanting/Enchanting
• Gabriel, Come Blow Your Horn

I’ve always been curious to meet an atheist.  Whenever someone announces themselves as one, I always try to take a moment (or often many more) and discus their atheism with them.  I like to first start with the obvious question, “Define God?”

I’ve had this opportunity 15-20 times in life and it’s always been the same experience.  Once they’ve explained their definition of God to me, I’ve always found myself saying back to them the same line: “Well then, I must be an atheist too because I don’t believe in that god either.”

Often the definition portrayed is archaic, anthropomorphic, and usually something taught them by confused parents or Sunday School teachers, but always ideas that I find equally hard to swallow.

Can this be the most misunderstood word in the human language?  Quite possibly so.  I’m not here to rectify that.  I have had an evolving, ever-changing struggle with the concept of God for over a half a century now.  I’m not at all sure what God is, but I do have a feeling for what He, She or It is not.

A guy in the sky with a long white beard?  No.  A He or a She?  No.  A Father/ Mother?  Sort of…  An infinite and eternal concept?  Probably.  Love, Life, Truth, Being, Interconnection?  Yes.

I saw an amazing video presentation on my TED app last week by Alexander Tsiaras called “Conception to birth – visualized”.  It’s a talk showing human development from conception to birth and beyond.  Mr. Tsiaras is and associate professor at Yale and presents a beautiful and compelling talk and video on birth.  In it, he states that, as a scientist, before he explored this project, he was essentially an atheist, but that in the course of working on the project, he realized the absolute necessity of a higher power.

As I watched his wondrous video, I too saw the absolute of God.  The biological mechanism that produces each of us, the mathematical structure that forms the fetus from the two cells of egg and sperm, the absolutely miraculous evolution of egg into human person he explains is mystery, magic and divinity.  The intelligence behind this marvel called birth is so staggering that it can only be the result of some higher power.

Now I’m not sure where to put all this material result of matter molecules forming human beings, because essentially I see this human experience as an illusion – like a dream – and basically unreal in the first place, but here is a most compelling drama played out for thought.

Where does all this material existence come from in the first place?  Or is there a first place to begin with?  If it isn’t, then it didn’t come at all and isn’t really here.  Whoa…  Getting pretty deep here, Pete.  In so deep I’ll never get out.

But simply looking at this material existence – at the wonders of the human body, the infinity and scale of the cosmos, the organization of nature, the breakdown of matter into its relative nothingness, the wondrous, unexplainable and inconceivable concepts that we pass through daily and take so for granted, how can anyone with a thought past themselves not see that there is something out there, in there, everywhere that is not controlling the organization and ebb and flow of these staggering concepts.

Something is in control of all this even when things seem out of control in our own lives.  Something is still in control of the building and sustenance of life, of the evolution and organization of nature, of the revolving of our tiny planet around our small sun, (much less the creation and disposition of the many universes around us).

It is all so far beyond us, so far beyond the confines of our limited thinking and understanding – even our own brains that we carry around in our own heads are pitifully understood.  And yet it all goes on working.

I sat in an airplane last month and watched the cars below all stay in their places on their side of the road and not run into each other – thousands, millions of cars all staying in their lanes – millions of drivers avoiding instant death moment to moment driving home after work.  Something else was clearly in control.  Sometimes one of these millions breaks the rules and swerves out of control, but trillions of moments go by as the universe works and inside each of those cars sits a man or woman focused on something totally different than staying alive – their love affairs, their shopping lists, the music on the radio.  They all naturally stay in their lanes within the laws of organization and only rarely does the system break down.

From my perch in the plane, all those tiny headlights traveling at 70 miles an hour, all making it home to dinner spoke to me of God in control of His/Its universe.

And so I say to all of you self-proclaimed atheists out there, “Redefine your god concept.  If you don’t like the name, call it ‘dog’.  I don’t care, but open your thought to a higher power, a universal organization, a force of nature – something beyond yourself that is perchance in control.

We do not live in chaos no matter how chaotic our lives.  We live in the immaculate organization of matter molecules and constituent masses so perfectly organized around us that we take the whole thing for granted moment to moment.  To whom do we owe that?

Next time you take a breath.  Next time your eye blinks.  Next time your heart beats.  Next time you smile. And on and on and on…

Even More Inspiration

• Spiritual Scientist
• God Is doG Spelled Backwards
• Words Of Wisdom
• Loving God
• Thoughts On Thinking or Thinking Makes It So
• Straight ‘A’s

And it’s a good song.  I know it is, because it’s been running around in my mind for several weeks now.  I wake up singing it and wonder for a moment where it came from and then realize, “Oh yeah, that’s that song!”

The client keeps coming in when I’m finished with my latest iteration and she sits and listens and nods her head as I play it for her and then when it’s through we nod and agree that we’re not there yet.

In the original session, her pianist and writing partner came in and recorded the piano and she the scratch vocal.  They were kind of ornery with each other when usually they’re a happy team.  I stayed pretty quiet as he kind of ran roughshod over her as they worked and he laid down the piano part and she sang the scratch vocal.  It was not an inspired session.  At one point I remember exclaiming kind of in fun, “Boy, you two are like an old married couple.”  The session was more about their momentary troubles than the song itself and the song was basically a love song!

As he got more and more depressed and actually meaner to her, she became nervous and hurt, embarrassed and withdrew into an uncustomary quiet.  But we were getting the work done.  He’s a fine pianist and though he was not particularly inspired that day, his playing was solid and mistake free.

When the session was over I was relieved to move on in life.  I began, several days later to orchestrate the song using his piano track and her scratch vocal as a base and it all seemed to go downhill from there.

It has seemed that no matter what I tried with this good solid song, I could not seem to capture the spirit of the love relationship in the song.  I’m sure, by now, you’re all thinking, “Well, no wonder, Pete.  There was no love in the song’s performance.”  True, but there is a lot of love in the song’s writing.  The song comes with huge armloads of love generated by the lyric, melody and harmonies contained therein.

I woke up yet again this morning.  The song was on my mind.  I lay there in my half sleep as it drifted through my mind, free from its troubled past, centered in its character and intent and simply expressing its original concept of one loving another.  Then I got it!

The recording I was working with was too fast!  The tempo was simply going faster than it really wanted to go.   I knew this because the tempo in my head this morning was about 10 BPM (beats per minute) slower than the track I’ve been working with.

The intent was rushed on the recording because the performers were not centered, the pianist really wanted to finish and go home and the singer’s mind simply wasn’t focused on the love of the song, but rather the awkwardness of their present relationship.  At the time the song was new to me, so I was more focused on the technical – watching the meters, getting the piano recorded correctly and laying down the vocal with no distortion.  The rest of my mind was struggling with their troubles and my concentration was divided.  Besides, they wrote the song!  They ought to have a good feel for the right tempo.

But they didn’t.  That morning in the studio, they weren’t centered in love, they were both in a hurry to get through and out of each other’s presence and so the real “doing” of the moment produced a rushed, unfeeling track and confused vocal performance.

Art reflected life.

Going too fast.

How many times do we say that to ourselves?  “Slow down, Pete, you’re going too fast.”

It all got me to thinking…

I’ve been working on a life.  It hasn’t been working.  I’ve tried several different approaches – and nothing I’ve done has seemed to bring this life to its realization supporting the meaning, content and intent of the life.

And it’s a good life.  I know it is, because it’s been running around in my mind for many years now.  I wake up singing it every morning and wonder for a moment where it came from and then realize, “Oh yeah, that’s my life!” 

In the original concept, the life was laid out ahead of me in a pretty clear plan and the basic construct of this plan worked well, but as I’ve gotten more and more into it, it’s taken on a much bigger picture – probably bigger than I could handle.  And things have started to go south for me. 

So many projects, so much to do, so split in my daily activities and so often behind the ol’ eight ball.  It (the life) was exciting and the accomplishment was demonstrable, but the happiness was only found in the song writing, the music making.  The rest was far too pushed, far too rushed trying to get a massive list of things finished so I could keep up with the massive list accumulating every day, every hour, every minute.

I woke up yet again this morning.  The life was on my mind.  I lay there in my half sleep as it drifted through my mind, free from its troubled past, centered in its character and intent and simply expressing its original concept of one loving another.  Then I got it!

The life I was leading was too fast!  The tempo was simply going faster than I really wanted to go.

The intent was rushed in this life because the performer was not centered, the doer really wanted to just finish and go home and simply wasn’t focused on the love of the life, but rather the awkwardness of the rushing from one moment to the next.

I’m going to slow it down now and get back in the groove.  This life is a love song and that love has to be reflected and can only be reflected if first I am centered and in the moment, not in a hurry, not caught up in the madness of the scramble, but rather in the true rhythm of the moment. 

I’m going to find a new tempo.

Life reflecting art.

Even More Inspiration

• Even Now
• Chanting/Enchanting
• Valentine Thoughts
• The Decline of Lyrical Craftsmanship – Part 1
• Attention Span
• Spiritual Scientist

Previous to this month I had only ever written one Christmas song – a song recorded by the Jenny Burton Experience called Christmas In My Soul.  They say, in the music business, that the month of June is the month to write and begin one’s Christmas album, the preparation of such to be around 5-6 months.  Who can write Christmas songs in June?  What a silly notion.

This year the Missus has come up short in her search for the perfect Christmas song for her Christmas Day performance in church.  She had decided to employ a terrific Boston harpist and together with her organist, Bryan Ashley, keep it small and delicate in accordance with the spiritual implications of the morning.  Last year she used a brass quintet plus the church four manual pipe organ and blew the roof off, so this year she wanted to do something completely different.

But no song came to mind to fit the criteria.

While watching her go through her turmoil, I happened to mention one day several weeks ago that perhaps I could write one for her.  This was said in a fit of compassion for her plight while I was in the middle of the mad dash of the final throes of my own CD, Goin’ Home.

Seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, she grabbed at the offer and signed me up.  At first I thought, “Oh no, what have I gotten myself into?”  Where would I ever find the time to do this?

Then she came up with the notion that not only should I write it and arrange it for harp and keyboard, but that we should also record it and sell it for Christmas.  Then she came up with the idea that we should also do the sheet music for it and sell that too and let others use it in their churches for their Christmas services as well.  Then she came up with the idea that as long as we were going to do all that, she may as well use the song for her musical Christmas Presence lecture that she does around the country with lecturer, Chet Manchester.  This only moved the deadline for all this up by about 2 ½ weeks!  “Egads,” thought I.  “What have I done?”

So I did it.  In the next 3 days Julia will record the lead vocal to the orchestrated track, Craig Wagner, the designer, will design all the packaging, I’ll mix the song, the WFM staff will manufacture about a hundred singles to start with and by Thursday we’ll be selling this song that will receive it’s first performance in St. Louis on this coming Sunday.  Whew!

Will we make it?  With God’s help, we shall.

It’s a new world.  Things like this can be accomplished in a matter of weeks, a matter of days now.  The power of computers – the power of Mind.

The writing was fun and accomplished in a matter of 48 hours.  Once that was done, I knew we’d be OK.  The rest was just a matter of getting’ it done.

Julia directed me to the Bible for my text and chose the tried and true – think Handel.

“And his name shall be called Wonderful,
Counsellor,
The Mighty God,
The Everlasting Father,
The Prince of Peace
Yes his name shall be called Wonderful”

But I also wanted to shed some new light on the subject – not just rehash George Fredric.  Julia suggested that I combine the Bible text with some of the text of Mary Baker Eddy and her thoughts on the life of Jesus.  Julia and her big ideas!  Using text (non-lyrics) always makes good songwriting very difficult in that text is not metered and has a way of not particularly sounding very musical much less poetic.  On top of that the text of Mary Baker Eddy cannot be changed by even the alteration of a comma.

However the text she gave me was poetic to a certain extent so I thought I’d give it a go.  I had a great deal more content than I needed to begin with.  Julia can have her long-winded moments, so I had to do some clever editing.  Always easier to cut than to add.  While fooling around with several lyrical directions the line struck me like a lightening bolt — “And his name shall be called Wonderful,”

“What a great idea,” thought I.  Call the song Wonderful!

And so I did.

I was on my way…

Here is the finished lyric.  In another magical musical week you’ll be able to hear, sing, play, perform, buy and listen to the whole thing through the wonderful world of MIDI, LOGIC, the INTERNET and God’s gift of inspiration.

Hot off the presses!

Wonderful

Text by Mary Baker Eddy
Lyrics adapted from the Book of John
Music by Peter Link

The wakeful shepherd beholds
The first faint morning beams,
Ere cometh the full radiance
Of a risen day.

So shone the pale star
To the prophet-shepherds;
Yet it traversed the night, and came
Where, in cradled obscurity, lay
The Bethlehem babe,
And his name shall be called Wonderful,
Wonderful

The people that walked in darkness
Have seen a very great light:
For unto us a child is born,
And a son is given:
And the government shall be upon his shoulder:

And his name shall be called Wonderful,
Counsellor,
The Mighty God,
The Everlasting Father,
The Prince of Peace
Yes his name shall be called Wonderful

Now the Son of man is glorified,
Yes and God is glorified in him.
Verily, he says unto you,
“He that believeth on me,
The works that I do shall he do also;
And greater works than these shall he do;

If ye love me, keep my commandments.
And I will pray the Father,
And he shall give you another Comforter”

The prophet of today
Beholds in the mental horizon
The signs of these times,
The reappearance of the Christianity
Which heals the sick
And destroys error,
And no other sign shall be given.

When a new spiritual idea is borne to earth,
The prophetic Scripture of Isaiah is renewedly fulfilled:
Saying “Unto us a child is born, . . .”
“Unto us a child is born, . . .”

And his name shall be called Wonderful.”
Counsellor,
The Mighty God,
The Everlasting Father,
The Prince of Peace
Yes his name shall be called Wonderful
Wonderful
Yes he is wonderful
Wonderful!

Even More Inspiration

• Even Now
• Love Is The Reason For Living
• The Decline of Lyrical Craftsmanship – Part 1
• Nothing
• You Must Remember This!
• My Body

Barry Danielian - Trumpeter

Yesterday I had a blast.  Inspirational music took on new meaning as I recorded virtuoso trumpeter, Barry Danielian, here in NYC at Link Recording Studios.  I needed a 16 bar trumpet solo for the song, In That Great Gittin’ Up Mornin’ which is the climax song on my forthcoming CD, Goin’ Home – A Gospel Cantata – On Heaven and Beyond.

I had lost my precious musician phone book last year with all its numbers and so I called my friend, guitarist, Chieli Minucci and asked him for a recommendation of a great trumpet player who could play like the angel, Gabriel.  Chieli recommended Barry Danielian.  When Chieli speaks; I listen.  I hired Barry for the gig.

I wrote the first 4 bars of the trumpet solo for Barry to get him started and then gave him the direction to improvise the rest, to keep it Gospel, make it hot, iconic, hotter, joyful, timeless and apocalyptic.  Think, in the climax of the solo, Gabriel on acid trying to blow the roof off the moon.  I sent him home to listen to the track for a couple of days and he showed up yesterday afternoon ready to go at it, trumpet in hand.

We did 6 takes – each one discussed relating to shape, development and mood.  Barry was the perfect partner in crime.  He listened, but also brought his great ideas and mastery of his horn to the moment.

As I mentioned, the first 4 bars were written, but I wanted the next 12 bars to be improvised with the last 2 bars of the 12 sliding back down into the vocals.  Since this was supposed to be Gabriel, the trumpeting angel of Biblical lore, he’d better be good.  Barry was great.  He fulfilled the promise, hopes and expectations beyond my dreams.

After he had gone, I took a couple of hours and studied the various takes and composited together the best of the 6 takes into a gorgeous and soaring angelic moment.  As I sat back and listened when finished, I found myself suddenly standing triumphantly and raising my arms above my head like Rocky on the Liberty steps.  It was a true moment of inspiration.

Barry (blue shirt) w/ Tower Of Power

We talk a lot about inspiration here at Watchfire Music.  It seems like we’re always trying to get there one way or another.  Well, yesterday we did it, and, best of all, when we got there, we had recorded it for all to experience.  That’s the great thing about music.  It can do its thing to you over and over.  It’s a wonder.

There’s nothing like working with a great musician.  It’s not just the way they play, or their mastery of their horn, or their chops that makes them great.  What always stands out to me is their ability to listen and to take direction.  You’d think that somebody with all that ability would not have to listen, but that’s often what separates the men from the boys – their ability and grace to drop their own ego and listen, to take input, and to collaborate.

Here’s a little more info on this modern Gabriel:

Trained from an early age in his first love, jazz, some of Barry’s most memorable performances have been with such greats as Dizzy Gillespie, Illinois Jacquet, Paquito DeRivera, and Branford Marsalis. Equally valuable in the evolution of his style were some of his first New York gigs, with Latin giants Eddie Palmieri and Tito Puente. Starting in 1984, he toured widely with these bands over a number of years and began an impressive series of Latin recordings with such artists as Marc Anthony and Ricky Martin.

Dizzy Gillespie & Barry Danielian

Barry’s mileage on the road increased in 1985 with the first of several tours with rock fusion giants Blood, Sweat and Tears, and subsequently with Paul Shaffer and the World’s Most Dangerous Band, Queen Latifah, and Jon Bon Jovi. The early 1990s saw Barry on world tours with Latin-pop star Emmanuel and funk legends Tower of Power.

During the mid-1990s, Barry began to realize the reputation he enjoys today as one of New York City’s most in-demand session players and arrangers, racking up more than 200 recordings with such pop notables as Celine Dion, Paul Simon, Billy Joel, Natalie Cole, and James Taylor, as well as with touring partners Queen Latifah and Tower of Power. His Jingle/TV and motion picture credits (for Touchstone, Columbia, and others) from this period are too numerous to mention.

I am deeply privileged in life to work with the best.  Yesterday was just another one of those great life experiences of music and creativity.

Even More Inspiration

• Light At The End Of The Tunnel
• Even Now
• WFM Listening Room – Series II – Event 4
• WFM Listening Room — Series II Opener
• WFM Learning Lab – Grand Opening!
• The Decline of Lyrical Craftsmanship – Part 1

Last week in her church service (which gets broadcast around the world on the Internet) the Missus performed a new song fresh off the presses.  It has received tremendous feedback, the kind of response that makes all the blood, sweat and tears of this industry totally worth all the effort.  I’ll have to admit that we were not prepared for this response.  Who knew that this national occurrence would come?

Julia Wade (The Missus) chose the song to fit the sermon of that particular Sunday over a month ago, but it turned out to be the right panacea for the moment.  The trouble is, it is a new song that she has been working on for her new forthcoming CD, Silk Road, due to be released this coming Christmas season.  We have no single completed; we have no sheet music to sell – yet.

So we’re going to rush this one out to you ahead of its time.  We’ll release it as a single and its sheet music in the next couple of weeks.  I guess it’s just a song that demanded its own time – not on my schedule or Julia’s, but on its own schedule.   Like a baby who comes early – once it’s born, you simply have to stop all else and deal with it no matter what.

Here are only a few of the comments that we’ve received:

“We had the great good fortune to hear you perform “Even Now” in the Mother Church last Sunday.  We were traveling and just happened to be there in Boston. We both wept, it was SO gorgeous… even my husband cried — who is a Methodist!

Is there a recording of that song available?  My husband is an accomplished guitarist and he loved the guitar music so much too. Of course your singing was a gift!

Thank you so much for sharing your beautiful singing with all of us.  We will never forget how special that was!” –Carolyn

“Thank you Julia and Peter for your loving support.  That new solo is so right for what we’re going through… It was as though you were singing to us!

Thank you.  And thank you, Peter.  Deepfelt message.

And we’ve already heard from family in South Africa who listened and loved the Internet relay.

Your support means so much to us.” -Love, K.

In the meantime, here’s the lyric to tide you over…

Even Now
Music and Lyrics by Peter Link

Even now
The sun will rise
The morning come
The day begin
Even now
When all seems lost
And darkness falls over all
Even now
God’s watching over you
Here in the dawn’s first light

At every turn
In every need
With every breath you take

Even now
With cross to bear
He’s always there
In simple truth
Even now
With heavy heart
His love will lighten your way
Even now
He soothes the salted wound
And eases your troubled mind

At every turn
In every need
With every breath you take

God loves you
Hallelujah
God frees you
Hallelujah

Even now
With broken dreams
And weary soul
He’ll carry you
Even now
When all has failed
And mountains are in your way
Even now
He stands a sentinel
The shepherd of all you do

Your every turn
Your every prayer
And every move you make

Your every turn
Your every need
And every breath you take

God loves you
Remember these words that I sing
God loves you
God frees you
Hallelujah

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Jim was a lefty.  That meant, as all you lefties out there know, that when you learn to write longhand, you have to drag your hand across the already written word often in the beginning smearing the ink or even the pencil marks into oblivion.  In order to not do this, you have to lift your hand awkwardly up, losing your controlling leverage.  Consequently many lefties start out as poor hand-writers until they get the hang of it.  My brother, Jim, was just such a monster.

My school district in Kirkwood, Missouri did not go by the usual A, B, C, D, F grading system that most institutions use today.  Instead it was as follows:

S= Superior
E= Excellent
A= Average
P= Poor
U= Unsatisfactory

Why or how I still remember this is beyond me.  Sorta like remembering my first telephone number was “Kirkwood 1084J”.  Another was “Terryhill 31390”.  Those were spoken when the operator came on and said “Operator” – before dial phones.  I guess that oughta date me.

But I digress…

When in the sixth grade, under the tutelage of the feared Miss Cochran, older brother Jim had pulled off the near impossible.  He had, with his big brains, received straight ‘S’s at the end of the year from the toughest teacher at Osage School.  Except for one thing.  He actually didn’t get straight ’S’s because he got an ‘E’ in handwriting – probably a gift from a momentarily generous Miss Cochran who felt sorry for the kid who was so smart but had the dreaded Lefty Disease.  Even in the sixth grade Jim’s handwriting was still unreadable.

But everyone except younger brother, Pete, gave Jim the benefit of the doubt and his straight ‘S’s (except for Handwriting) became the talk of the neighborhood for a season and a high-water mark in our family for what felt like forever.  Every time grades were brought home we were reminded that Jim had received straight ‘S’s in the sixth grade.  (All except for one)

So this became the life objective for younger brother, Pete, not necessarily self-perpetuated, but certainly parent perpetuated.  This became the record to beat for five long years of my life as I waited to try my lesser brains in the sixth grade.

When sixth grade finally did come along, Miss Cochran had been replaced by Mrs. MacDermott who, luckily for me, was my favorite teacher of my entire grade school through college education.  The Jim Link Superior Record of Excellence was, of course, announced to Mrs. MacDermott by Mom at our first parent/teacher meeting – the bar being set.  I had never been much of a student, and I think she wanted it for me more than I wanted it for myself.

I limped through the first half of my sixth grade year with my usual “just enough above average grades to not make Dad too mad and ground me” grades.  But then came the “either do it or die moment” that I had always dreaded.  Final semester – sixth grade.  This was it.  This was the time I had to do it in order to uphold the family expectations.  Here was the one opportunity I had in life to finally beat my brother in something – anything…

I started the semester knowing that I had no chance whatever to accomplish this feat.  I had never even come close to straight ‘E’s, much less straight ‘S’s.  But then dear Mrs. MacDermott took over my life.  Every day and in every way she began to encourage me.  I became the teacher’s pet.  I got to sit up in the special desk at the front of the class.  I was deemed “smart” for the first time in my life.  She would often read my “marvelous papers” out loud to the class as examples of great penmanship – whether they deserved it or not.

I began to actually like all the attention I got for being one of the “smart” ones.  I actually began thinking of myself as “smart”.  Jane MacDermott, simply, by the mere force of her will, convinced me that semester that I could do it – that I had the stuff of champions.

I began to work harder.  I began to think that I actually had a shot at it.  At midterm, my grades were the highest they had ever been – not straight ‘S’s, but within some conceivable distance of Jim’s mark.

The talk around the table every night at dinner involved only one subject for several months – my quest.  Even my brother smugly encouraged me, knowing, of course, that I’d never be able to do it.

I don’t think anybody actually thought I could do it except Mrs. MacDermott.  Mom had a passionate kind of wild hope.  Dad had a detached interest in the process and the neighbors buzzed about it constantly, but really, the objective just seemed to be a little too far fetched for average Pete.

And then along came June; the end of grade school; graduation.  I was the valedictorian of my class and the proud receiver of straight ‘S’s.  In the last two months of the sixth grade I had become convinced by Mrs. MacDermott that I could do it and had done little else – not to please Mom, impress Dad or to beat Jim, but to fulfill the dream of Jane MacDermott whom I dearly loved.

I don’t remember a single thing I learned in the sixth grade.  I don’t remember what we studied, what math level I was at or a single paper I ever wrote.  I only remember that Mrs. MacDermott used to umpire our softball games at lunch and after lunch she would read to us for an hour every day as we sat quietly at our desks. (She allowed us to lay our heads on our folded arms as we listened)  She would read great novels to us like Tale Of Two Cities or The Call Of The Wild.  I fell in love with the sound of her voice and the images of those great stories.  I fell in love with story telling and found my life’s work.

After that year I went back to being a just above average student throughout the rest of my school years.  I never got close to having straight ‘A’s again.  I never needed to.  I knew I could be ‘smart’ when I needed to be and that was enough.

Once in college, when I had already decided to go into show business, I took the most difficult Shakespeare course from the toughest teacher in the English Department.  I challenged myself thinking that if I really wanted to excel in show business, then I ought to be able to conquer William Shakespeare.  I hauled out my sixth grade smarts and work ethic and aced the course proving once again that I could do it when I really wanted it.

This was the real gift of the straight ‘S’s.  The belief in myself.  I thank Jane MacDermott for that.  Upon sixth grade graduation I never saw her or spoke to her again, but she stayed with me for the rest of my life.

Thank you, Jane.  You were a great teacher.  You taught me one of my life’s greatest lessons.  Wherever you are now, know that I am eternally grateful.  Had you not come along in my life, I would surely be a different man today.

But you did.  Many thanks.

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