A simple non-religious gospel-style tune about about the struggle to love ourselves while loving each other.

"Love You, Too"

I know the mirror doesn't hold your favorite portrait
And your dreams, they’re touched with sadness, pain, and regret
Oh, but it hurts me so to see you sink yourself into this reverie of blue,
Maybe you could try to love you, too

I know sometimes it feels you worry rightly, 
And your heart's not an accessory you wear lightly
But if you have the kind of heart to find forgiveness for the funny things I do,
Maybe you can learn to love you, too

I know I'm bound to draw some words of pot & kettle
When you have seen me through so many darkest days.
Maybe each has a unique and precious mettle (/metal...)
And we just need to help each other count the ways

Oh, it’s hard sometimes to take the love we're given
And harder still to trust this world we live in
But I will swear to do my best to save a little bit of shelter here for you,
So maybe you can learn to love you, too

Oh, but it hurts me so to see you sink yourself into this reverie of blue,
Maybe you can love you too.

I hope that you can love you, too.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Vocals & lyrics: Kari Lynn Hewett
Music: Kari Lynn & Roger Hewett
©2021 (SOCAN)

Love You, Too

Arcadian Paradise

Ghost Town

The first movement of Maurice Ravel's Sonatine performed by the Gene Knific Trio.

Gene Knific - Piano
Geoff Saunders - Bass
Evan Hyde - Drums

Recorded, mixed, and mastered by Jackson Firlik

Sonatine I. Modéré

Today would be my dad's 70th birthday. I can't imagine him any older than the day he left us at the age of 49. I can tell you he would be bummed that as of today he could no longer say he was "69". 

He passed away the end of my junior year of college at WVU. For my senior recital I gathered my band members Chris Russell Brent Bunner and Matthew Warder for a one time performance in front of maybe 100 people in a black box theatre of a song I wrote right after he passed away. Luckily, it was recorded and I just cleaned it up a bit and I'm posting here for the first time.

20 year old me was trying to make sense of the unfathomable. I saw a headline the week that my dad died that read "Local Weatherman Dead at 49" and it triggered this song.

This little snapshot in time shows me how far I've come in the 20 years since he's passed away. I didn't understand much more back then than I do now. I no longer believe in "up there", I'm not looking "someone to blame" but the one thing I got right was that he would always be frozen at 49. (The one thing I got wrong in this song is the "holy crap that is some jazz-y music school shit" bridge.)

Every day. Every hour. Every second I think of him. Today, a little extra. Happy 70th, Dad.

Ghost Town

Rob Cookman

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