Toss the Bones (Fall 2017- Winter 2019)
Produced, Engineered and Mixed by Grant Heckman.
Mastered by Paul Milner of Trillium House Studio
Percussion and Electric, Baritone and Bass Guitars by Grant Heckman
Percussion, drums and Synthesizer by Clinton Charlton. Acoustic Guitars and Vocals by Debbie Adshade
Songs by Debbie Adshade @Socan 2018. (Lyrics for Sancte are Public Domain)
Thank you to the New Brunswick Arts Board for support via a Creation Grant. (2012)
Thanks to Jo-anne Elder for her gift of “Unfinished Dreams” and to the wonderful New Brunswick Poets who inspired these songs.
Thanks in advance to poets Clyde Wray, Greg Cook, Hermenegilde Chaisson and Ann Compton for inspiration on songs still in the woodshed.
Toss the Bones
Inspired by Alden Nowlan’s What Happened When he went to the Store for Bread. In his poem, Nowlan describes a chain of events that begin with his trip to the store to buy bread. He muses on how his taste in music led to a friendship (Jim Stewart) that led to a marriage and the arrival of children who would never had born except for his taste in music.
Knucklebones was an ancient game of chance using sheep knuckles for die. You would toss the bones and hope for the best. In this song I contemplated our tentative relationship with destiny. Our orchestrations and solid plans can unravel at a simple fork in the road. A single wayward movement might set off the ‘Butterfly Effect’ rippling outward to ultimate chaos.
I once had a looking glass
showed the future clear and vast
I knew which way the die was cast
My fine designs carved into stone
Every crest and curve was showed
But fickle winds they tossed the bones
***I felt a butterfly flicker my skin Started a hurricane and it all began to spin……….
The mirror cracked my second sight
Turned to the left should’ve gone right
It all had changed at the speed of light
*** I felt a butterfly flicker my skin Started a hurricane and it all began to spin…….
The Thin Divine
This song was inspired by Allan Cooper’s beautiful poem The Thin Places. His words reminded me of a brief and now elusive experience; something I probably have no business trying to describe.
I played a melody on my guitar
all through the night
Lying on a carpet feet up the wall
trying to get it right
Over and over
all through the night
All at once took a fancy flight
to another plane
Bedazzled becalmed and clear as the sky
saw you again saw you….saw you again
*** it was over in a moment but it haunts me to this day And the more I try to glimpse it well the more it stays away
Turned the world over with a fine-tooth comb
Looking for a sign
circles of stones and relics and bones
a holy shrine
seeking the thin divine
*** it was over in a moment but it haunts me to this day And the more I try to glimpse it well the more it stays away
Still I Wonder
Inspired by Lynn Davies’ Rib Cage. This poem with its dark questions and images of a stark winter’s eve invoked thoughts of impermanence and mystery.
Past the great illuminate
past the shadow grave
Past the saffron robes that glow
past the soldier’s blade
Followed in the pale steps of the weary wise
Burnt a hole into the sun
Still I wonder why
Oh and still oh and still…I wonder why
Travelled deep into the gaze of a lover’s eye
Deeper still into the glaze of a flame that died
Oh and still oh and still….I wonder why
Once on a frosted eve over the diamond snow by the willows weave
Thought I caught a glimpse
thought I caught a glimpse
Sancte
Inspired by the ‘Dungarvon Whooper’ by Michael Whelan. This is the story of a violent murder in a lumber camp at the turn of the 20th Century. The eerie howls that came from the spirit of the dead man were legend. The people were so unsettled by these screams that the Roman Catholic Church sent a Priest to perform an exorcism. One of the prayers used during the ordeal had been written by PopeLeo Xlll. In l884 He took a seizure during Mass and claimed that he had been given the words by Saint Michael. A prayer for protection in dark times.
Sáncte Míchael Archángele, defénde nos in proélio,
cóntra nequítiam et insídias diáboli ésto præsídium.
Ímperet ílli Déus, súpplices deprecámur: tuque, prínceps milítiæ cæléstis,
Sátanam aliósque spíritus malígnos, qui ad perditiónem animárum pervagántur in múndo, divína virtúte, in inférnum detrúde. Ámen.
Happy
Inspired by Poet Ronald Despres’ ‘Suddenly it was good to be alive.’ This poem reminded me of those brilliant transitions from despair to joy. On those lucky days, it makes you aware of just how stunning life can be.
If you’re happy and you know it
And you really want to show it
If you’re happy and you know it
Take a bow do a jig
Go dancing in the street
If there’s a little bit of love
Tumbling around you from the sky above
If there’s a little bit of sweet love
Catch it up drink it down
Spread it all around.
*** Might be the rain or the color of the sky Someone to love and drown in your eyes A hand to hold a kiss good night The midnight flight of a thousand…fire flies…..
Warrior 
Inspired by Noah Augustine’s Child of a burning Legacy. In this poem Noah Augustine describes his struggle as a leader of the Metepenagiag First Nation. ‘I was born on an Indian reservation, the child of a burning legacy, I’ve fought battles no man has every won and I’ve lost like the rest of them.’ I was moved by this poem and began to look into the life and stories of this man. This song is a sort of requiem.
Stardust in the spirit sky O warrior cross the heavens where the eagle flies let it go return to grace O warrior leave these broken vows and this mortal race
Fire from a dragon’s game O warrior you crossed the battle lines you walked through flames ****Legends from a thousand years are crying in the wind Go walk among the one’s who’ve gone before and let it go.
Star dust in the spirit sky O warrior cross the heavens where the eagle flies and may your spirit brave and wild O warrior find a place in your childrens’ childrens’ child.
****Legends from a thousand years are crying in the wind Go walk among the one’s who’ve gone before and let it go.
Welcome
Inspired by Bliss Carmen’s A Northern Vigil. The poem invokes a sense of warmth and comfort and the anticipation of a lover coming home to the fireside.
Welcome bitter winter chill beyond this frozen window sill frosted stars and a black sky light The crack of a river’s purple ice ……welcome
And welcome to my humble home Come sit beside my firestone a cup of cheer and a song to fill The winter’s night with our good will…..welcome
Welcome welcome home my love come freely welcome home my love…come safely
welcome crystal falling slow The tumbling wings and an angel’s glow welcome biting sleet and hail the frigid breath of a northern gale……welcome
***Welcome welcome home my love come freely welcome home my love…come safely
The Devil at My Door
This is the black sheep of this collection; this song is not inspired by New Brunswick poetry. Musically, it’s dirt road material, with a castle thrown in. This is a story of building a fortress to keep out intruders and still managing to lose it all.
Woke up my heart beating in the dead of night¬
Something at the back door and it’s moving slow and sly
Been around enough to know how wild things roll
Loser loses all winner takes your soul
*From steel and stone and slate I built a fortress strong Thought it would keep me safe…. never was more wrong
Saw a shadow move beyond my window sill
Then a silence from my bed made my heart go still
Cried out to my lover well I cried too late
Heard a goodbye on the wind as he slammed the gate
*From steel and stone and slate I built a fortress strong Thought it would keep me safe never was more wrong
Oh I……would keep the devil from my door and I would keep my love… forever more
Some nights leave you visions and some just lay siege
To a lonely heart and a cold forgotten deed
I am a castle keeper and I hold the key
Nothing’s getting through this door there’s nothing left to leave.
*From steel and stone and slate I’d built a fortress strong Thought it would keep me safe never was more wrong
Oh I……Would keep the devil from my door And I would keep my love…Forever more
Nanadee 