This one is from the cutting room floor. Ten years ago (15 really), I had started this project. It was big and musical and it was a group of friends and we traveled and played and it ran out of steam, and I chose not to continue to push, for many reasons. I had at the time started working on what I was determined would be a record. It became Donkey Island. We recorded on and off for more than a year before letting it languish in digital silence for that aforementioned decade.
There are a bunch of songs that didn't make the cut for one reason or another-feelings at the time, changes in the metaphorical wind that might blind one to goodness.
I wrote some advicey and explainy songs and some funny ones. If Andrew Brockman had got to choose what songs were on that record this one would have been on.
There were a number of things that, given the lense that is the passage of time, although I disagreed then, Andrew was right about.
The moment of someone’s determined fuss is perhaps the wrong time to advise them to calm down. But what you can do is back away and make something that will live in their mind’s ear, something that speaks to the thing that does the thing and doesn't paw at the person who has the thing.
And in this deeper retrospect, even if it didn’t get in the ears I intended it to get into, since I made it and forgot it, I have needed to be reminded, and yesterday this song, or moresso what it does, came up in conversation. So this morning I got into the vault and found where this recording was, so I could share it, repleat with meaningful giggle and it’s raw ends and tape machine noise.
To whom it may concern, It’s the Worry that get’s you, not what’s worrying you.
Ain't often enough said, but it’s none the less true. It’s the worry that get’s you not what’s worrying you. So pull your hair back and get the sun on your skin cuz the day’s about over. The night’s about to begin.
So, when you’re out on the town and you’re greeting your friends and your eyes are on fire, it’s a means to an end. And when there's people around and your worries are few it's the worry that gets you, not what's worrying you.
It's a journey unto it’s own, an invitation not to be alone. It's easy.
And when you wake up alone, it ain't the end of the world. It’s the start of the day and you’re a big city girl. A cup of coffee and a cigarette a half a smile and a vain regret. You didn’t get what you wanted but it ain't over yet.
It's a journey unto it’s own, an invitation not to be alone. It's easy.
Ain't often enough said, but it’s none the less true- It’s the worry that get’s you not what’s worrying you.
