Last night Darren & I went to see the Thin Lizzy tribute band ‘Limehouse Lizzy‘ at the Whitby Spa Pavilion. Our friends, Mike & Benita, bought tickets for all of us as a present for Darren’s 40th birthday. And what a present it turned out to be! We had a blast – singing, clapping, and stomping our feet along with a theatre full of happy fans demanding an encore. Outstandingly charismatic and naturally entertaining frontman Wayne Ellis held the audience in the palm of his hand; deftly handling a somewhat over-eager fan with charm and humour. Ellis’s voice – exceptional in its own right – is a very close match to the legendary Phillip Lynott. More than mere mimicry is at play however, Ellis’s presence commands attention not comparison. This is the case for all the band members. Each pays tribute – no doubt about it – but in doing so they also honour their own individual talents. By the end of the night I’d screamed myself horse and had ‘face-ache’ from smiling so much. Quite honestly the best night I’ve had in ages.
So it seemed only right to make this weekend a tribute of my own. 7 Thin Lizzy songs + 1 Limehouse Lizzy video so you can see for yourselves. Be warned…the Limehouse Lizzy video is good, but if you really want to see what they’re like you’ll just have to go see them live. That electric charge is worth travelling for!
Thin Lizzy - The Boys Are Back in Town
Thin Lizzy - Jailbreak
Thin Lizzy - Cowboy Song
Thin Lizzy - Dancing in the Moonlight
Thin Lizzy - Don’t Believe a Word
Thin Lizzy - Whiskey in the Jar
Thin Lizzy - Still in Love with You
Limehouse Lizzy - Promotional Video
I’ve also included a couple of articles I really enjoyed reading last week. Really enjoyed … and then some
Have a great weekend folks, whatever you’re doing.
I heard this song on the radio a few days ago, and I knew it would be the beginning of my next post. The lyrics reached out and wrapped themselves around me, squeezing my heart and making me sing. I can’t tell you how much I love it when that happens. When a song comes on that feels like a message just for me. A message I want to share because I hate keeping awesome-ness to myself!
The words couldn’t have been better suited to pull me out of my funk. And I have been in a funk. This summer has really wrung it out of me…I’ve been up and down like a ‘Tilt a’ Whirl’ in a fairground. Good news following bad news, happy times following sad. There have been reasons to celebrate and reasons to mourn. It’s left me a bit jumbled…so when I heard this song, well, it spoke to me.
When the night is falling
You cannot find the light,
You feel your dreams are dying
Hold tight
People often tell me I’m strong – not physically of course, physically I’m a big wimp – they tell me I’m strong emotionally and in many ways they’re right…I am. I hold my own. I do my best. I grit my teeth and bear what must be borne. My Mom had a saying…‘The strongest steel goes through the hottest fires’. So I did my best to be steel; strong, refined steel. But I realized this summer that steel shatters under the right conditions and becomes useless. So I’ve decided to forget re-forging the broken pieces and pick a new material…willow. The willow is an amazing tree. Its branches are long and bending. When storms come the willow stands strong. Far under the earth its roots stretch long and wide; holding the willow securely in even the worst of tempests. Ever bending, never breaking. Yes, I think I’d like to be a willow.
Another lesson I’ve re-learnt this summer – when you think you have nothing left to give, take a break, then see if you can’t dig a little deeper and give a little more. When you give, you receive. Simple.
It isn’t always the easiest thing to do, but giving repels selfishness and welcomes tolerance. Giving increases your capacity to love. Now, I’m not suggesting you give and give and give and burn yourself out. What I am saying is, shift your focus if you can. Think of when, where or how you can give. Can you give your time? Can you give your money? Can you give your resources? Can you give a shoulder to cry on? Can you give understanding, empathy, or kindness? Can you give wisdom? Can you give the gift of laughter? Can you give without expectation of reward? I think you can.
You’ve got the music in you
Don’t let go
You’ve got the music in you
One dance left
This world is gonna pull through
Don’t give up
You’ve got a reason to live
Can’t forget
We only get what we give
Do you know how many things can be made from the willow tree? A willows branches can be made into a basket…useful for carrying burdens. A willow can be used to create beautiful furniture…perfect for resting. Cricket bats are made from willow, it’s the best wood for absorbing direct impact. Willow is used in the making of brooms, brooms that sweep the detritus away and help bring order to chaos.
Willow trees also make the most beautiful and treasured flutes.
You’ve got the music in you
Don’t let go
You’ve got the music in you
One dance left
This world is gonna pull through
Don’t give up
You’ve got a reason to live
Can’t forget
We only get what we give
Don’t let go
I feel the music in you
*A note to anyone who wonders about why I choose the Glee version of this song and not the New Radicals *
I love the New Radicals version, but despite my very best efforts there just wasn’t one video of sufficiently high quality on YouTube. Each video had an audio distortion and it was making me crazy…until I found the Glee version. Whether you’re a fan of the show or not, I think we could all do with a little more ‘Glee’ in our lives. This might ruin any credibility I currently have with you, and you might decide to leave and never ever come back to Life, Love & Lyricality….BUT… I LOVE Glee! I love the singing and the dancing. I love Mr Schue, Kurt, Santana, Sue Sylvester, Principle Figgins, and Artie. I love the silliness, I love the seriousness. I wanna BE in the New Directions (named in tribute to the New Radicals perhaps?). I want to go to sectionals,regionals, and nationals and win with the power of my voice and the power of my cheesiness. If you don’t feel the same….let’s agree to disagree just this once and move on?! OK?
It’s the weekend again, and I’m singing the blues. Happily singing the blues. It’s such a treat to put these songs and artists together, I have goosebumps on shivers on tiny hairs standing to attention. It’s fabulous! If you don’t like the blues…you should just be quiet, listen anyway and be educated. If you do like the blues but you don’t like my selections…feel free to make suggestions and when I do the blues again – you never know – I might admit my error and let you rub my face in it. I know I’ve missed tons of good stuff, but come on, I only get 7 songs. I also know John Mayer made it in here twice this weekend, but if you don’t like John Mayer this is probably not the blog for you. Jeff Healey made his guitar and me weep. BB King made me giggle…and of course John made me swoon. Before I swoon right out of my seat, here are your 7 Blues for the weekend.
Home. There’s so much emotion tied up in that word. To most it means safety, comfort, love, support. It conjures up pictures…pictures of your childhood home, your dream home, or your family. To some it’s a physical place, to others it’s people or simply a person.
Songs like I’ll Be Home for Christmas make me think of Home as Canada, my Grandparents, and my family.
Songs like Carrie Underwood’s Temporary Home make me grateful to have a physical place to raise my family, grateful that I have a family to raise. Grateful for my foundations…both physical and emotional. Especially grateful for my spiritual foundations…laid by those who came before me; a reminder of what is temporary and what is permanent.
Phillip Phillips song Home makes me think of how I’ve tried to make my own Home. The value I place on it, and what it means to have one. In 39 years I’ve lived in 35 houses. When I counted them up, I had to go back and check because that number was even higher than I thought it would be. Startling when you consider I’ve lived in my current house for over 4 years. That makes a house for every year (though sometimes there were 3 in the same one) I’ve lived before moving to our Home. I’m not in the Witness Protection Program or anything, we just moved alot.
All that shifting made me determined to find somewhere, plant a tree, and stay to watch it grow. I spent years dreaming of what this Home might look like and built fantasies around what it would feel like. After 4 years of hard work, the structure that houses our family definitely feels like Home. It’s a pretty good reflection of the people who live in it. Imperfect, often messy, cluttered, bright, warm, comfortable, inviting, mismatched, and adaptable.
Hold on, to me as we go As we roll down this unfamiliar road And although this wave is stringing us along Just know you’re not alone Cause I’m going to make this place your home
Home. My Home. Home is my husband, who adorns the physical with his labors. He took a shell and created a nest. He gave me a place to plant that tree, in fact he bought me the tree for my birthday so you might say he gave me both. My husband who also makes the house the least part of it, because HE is Home.
Home. My Home. Home is my children, who adorn the physical with art, and music and dirty finger prints. Who can take seconds to wreak havoc on a tidy room or a just baked batch of cookies. They made the tree worth planting. They are the roots, and branches. They are the birds that sing in it, and the leaves that will one day blow away from it.
Settle down, it’ll all be clear Don’t pay no mind to the demons They fill you with fear The trouble it might drag you down If you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you’re not alone Cause I’m going to make this place your home
Home. Our Home. Home is where they’ll come back to. After they go. If I’ve done my job right, Home is where they’ll come to find themselves, if they get lost. Home is where they’ll come to heal, if they get hurt. Home is where they’ll come to find safety, comfort, love and support. Home is where they’ll come for Christmas, for celebrations, for wisdom and reassurance…I hope.
Just know you’re not alone Cause I’m going to make this place your home
If you’ve been reading my blog for long, you’ll have a good idea of how I feel about John Mayer. It seems to fall a long way short of the mark to merely say ‘he’s a genius’. Or ‘his voice is like melted honey on the richest just-baked bread’. His lyrics are the cleverest form of poetry, and on some of my hardest days those lyrics either lifted my spirits or gave a voice to my anguish.
The music on my radio
Ain’t supposed to make me feel alone
Listening to John Mayer, whether it’s on the radio, in the car or on the stereo…I never feel alone. I feel connected, engaged and understood. I’m indebted to him….somehow, through his music, he gave me permission to cry, to shout, to wallow and then to pick myself up and get busy healing.
His latest album initially felt different from the others. Like spending time with a familiar friend who’s changed in subtle ways, making them suddenly unfamiliar. That’s not to say the changes were unpleasant, but they did take a bit of getting used to. It was like this ‘long-time friend’ had gone on a journey, during which they’d had some perspective altering adventures and soul deepening experiences. It felt weird at first, but once I’d altered my perception of who I thought this ‘friend’ was, I saw that nothing was missing…there was just a whole new level to admire.
The song Speak For Me – from the new album Born and Raised – is absolutely brilliant. The lyrics – as originally intended – are sharp and honest. Though I’m going to use them here to say something rather different, I hope you’ll also listen and enjoy the true meaning as opposed to my – very liberal – reinterpretation for the purposes of this post.
A couple of fellow bloggers (who also have daughters with Rett Syndrome) have recently written about challenges they’ve faced demonstrating the potential their little girls have. Emma’s post put ice in my veins and fire in my belly. Her daughter Eva was assessed without consent and determined to be Intellectually Impaired. Eva isn’t yet 5 years old, and can’t speak. How on earth could a valid assessment be carried out under these circumstances? Eva is just beginning to use an augmentative communication device with eye-gaze technology…give her enough time and she will be able to tell you exactly what she thinks of being labelled this way. The second post explores the same issue. Elizabeth’s daughter Grace tested with eye-gaze and the experience brought up some strong emotions. Partly from seeing the ways this tech could help Grace make choices; but also from the difficulty in obtaining it; the cost is somewhere in the region of £10,000. Both of these posts are well worth reading and I encourage you to check them out so you can get a more complete picture.
Show me something I can be
And play a song that I can sing
Make me feel as I am free
Someone come and speak for me
This morning, as I was feeding Emlyn her breakfast of blueberry yogurt, she seemed decidedly underwhelmed. This is typically a ‘lick the spoon’ treat, so I’ll admit it surprised me when she seemed disinclined to eat it. I cajoled, I implored, I begged, but all to no avail. Slow on the uptake from lack of caffeine is how I’m spinning this…but eventually something made me taste it. Yuck!! Bitter, sour and utterly un-appealing. Now – in my defense – this was not our typical yogurt brand, but I still should’ve thought to check the taste. Apologies galore and a liberal teaspoon of sugar later – after checking it first myself – I convinced her to try it again. She clapped with ‘you fixed it!!’ glee and each mouthful brought more appreciative ‘yum’ sounds. Had she been able to speak she could’ve said “yuck, that’s too sour” or “it needs sugar” after the first mouthful. The ability to communicate must surely be the most basic of needs?!
I try so hard to read every facial expression, each tiny message of body language, I try to put myself in Emlyn’s place and see the world through her eyes…but I still miss so much. She needs someone/something to SPEAK FOR HER. She needs at least that bit of freedom…the freedom of self-expression.
Show me something I can be
And play a song that I can sing
Make me feel as I am free
Someone come and speak for me
Someone come and speak for me
It breaks my heart to consider how often Emlyn must have something she wants to say and no means with which to say it. I ache for each word that goes unspoken, each need she can’t express. For every desire un-noticed, every question un-answered, and every hurt un-comforted…all for the lack of communication. When my older children were Em’s age, my days were filled with ‘Why’s’. Why is the sky blue, why does the door creak, why did that dog bark, why is the wind cold, why does my tummy make grumbly noises? So many ‘why’s’ it was hard not to say ‘Just because!’. Em’s curiosity is entirely dependent for it’s relief on my unreliable ability to see it. If I catch a question in her eyes of course I try to imagine what she’s curious about and then provide information or amusing stories to satisfy her. BUT how much do I miss? A terrifying amount even on my best day, I’m sure.
