While driving through Montana on my way to Nashville, I looked to my left to see a lone fisherman standing in a river — it seemed obvious that the man was exactly where he wanted to be. As my wheels turned toward the east, I realized I could relate:

I am a fisherman;
Not in the sense
That I stand at the shoreline in sport,
But in the way I cast my words.
For you see,
If and when they bite,
Why, nothing on God’s green earth
Is more fulfilling.

I am a Fisherman

As you know, in May, I set out southbound on my first Tour. I played as much music on the west coast as I possibly could through California, Arizona, Utah and Idaho… it was a month of highs and lows and lessons learned. In all, though I’d do it differently next time, it was something I had to do and I wouldn’t trade the experience for the world. Sure, I got my war wounds but I believe I’m better for it.

JOIN ME FOR THE SONG’S DEBUT @ MISSISSIPPI STUDIOS
Saturday June 27 – doors at 7pm

FIGHT ‘TIL DYING DAY
by tyler stenson (2009)

As long as I recall I’ve felt the music in my bones
And I was bound to (one day) take that music to the road
Where I would fill the room with strangers and make them smile as I play;
That boy in my war sure tried but fell upon grenades.
That boy in my war gets tired but he’ll fight ‘til Dying Day.

I hit California with a smile on my face
But then I soon left San Francisco with my tail between my legs-
I swear, I was good as I could be on any given time of day
Still, that boy in my war sure tried but fell upon grenades.
That boy in my war gets tired but he’ll fight ‘til Dying Day.

We blow like leaves in the wind
But I’ll be proud to know that at least I can be my own man-
Not that boy.

I burned a bridge in the desert and left Arizona northbound
And thought If it’s not in Salt Lake, is it Oregon where it’ll be found?
On certain nights the notes felt bright and on others they would fade
Still, that boy in my war sure tried but fell upon grenades.
That boy in my war gets tired but he’ll fight ‘til Dying Day.

I may blow like leaves in the wind
But I’ll be proud to know that at least I can be my own man-
Not that boy.

Every time it rained, it was my confidences wearing thin
So I had to believe this lonely road would bring ‘em back again.
But there’s nothing louder in my bones and it’s something I won’t trade
So, that boy in my war sure tried but fell upon grenades.
That boy in my war gets tired but he’ll fight ‘til Dying Day.

There was a time, not too long ago, when I was living and working with a train track in my backyard. No matter where I was in my day, the trains were rumbling. In addition to the trains, life was turbulent and I was sleeping little to none- this song first arose late during one of those sleepless nights over a year ago. With some hard work and much thought, I completed it an hour ago.

JOIN ME FOR THE SONG’S DEBUT @ MISSISSIPPI STUDIOS
Saturday June 27 – doors at 7pm

I GET NO SLEEP
by tyler stenson (2009)

I get no sleep
Try as I might
Because I don’t see no day
And there’s sure as hell no night.

No, it’s somewhere in between
Still, I can’t buy a dream.
I should be a world away
But the ceiling’s all I see.

I get no sleep with these trains inside my head.
As far as I can see, I’ve got tracks running down both sides.
It started as a steady hum-
Became a war-time drum
And eventually north and southbound collide.
I get no sleep with these trains inside my head.

Then, history repeats
And the city never sleeps
And I can hear the trains
No matter how soft they creep.

Can you hear them world?
The wolves are at my door;
I’ve got nothing to my name
And still they ask for more.

I get no sleep with these trains inside my head.
As far as I can see, I’ve got tracks running down both sides.
It started as a steady hum-
Became a war-time drum
And eventually north and southbound collide.
I get no sleep with these trains inside my head.

I get no sleep with these trains inside my head.

Last October something close to me began its decent. Not a man in the literal sense but still something that closely resembled the heart beat of a beloved mentor. This new song “Great Man’s Funeral” is a bitter sweet tale of the circle of life- the rise and fall and its constant learning.

JOIN ME FOR THE SONG’S DEBUT @ MISSISSIPPI STUDIOS
Saturday June 27 – doors at 7pm

GREAT MAN’S FUNERAL
by tyler stenson (2009)

There is one thing certain in this life;
If you breathe, one day you will die.
Ah, look at them standing in a line
Making sure that your memory is soaked in wine.

It’s a great man’s funeral;
His passing is a bittersweet parade.

I do believe you’re gone before your time
And that my days in your sunshine were kind
And the education gained along the way
Was good as gold and all its accolades.

It’s a great man’s funeral;
His passing is a bittersweet parade.
Somewhere on this great timeline
I’m confident they’ll call this a Golden Day.

I’m a better man for bleeding almost dry-
My bag of bones is a medal of that pride.
I can’t believe we lived to tell how we survived
(Cause it seems to me) we starved 40 days and nights.

It’s a great man’s funeral;
His passing is a bittersweet parade.

This house of cards is stronger than hay
So, let those wolves come and take what they may.
They didn’t kill us then, they won’t kill us now-
They’ll just huff and puff and tell us how if feels
When they fail to create.

It’s a great man’s funeral;
His passing is a bittersweet parade.
Somewhere on this great timeline
I’m confident they’ll call this a Golden Day.

It’s a great man’s funeral;
His passing is a bittersweet parade
And the simple fact I knew him when
Will long and always be my claim to fame.

Moments ago, I finalized my newest song “As the Crow Flies” and I’m extraordinarily happy with the results. As you may or may not know, I was recently away from home for 6 weeks; up and down the west coast and eventually over into Europe. Somewhere in my travels I caught myself longing for the comforts of home…

JOIN ME FOR THE SONG’S DEBUT @ MISSISSIPPI STUDIOS
Saturday June 27th – doors at 7pm

AS THE CROW FLIES:
by tyler stenson (2009)

I blew all the way down to Arizona
Then, like a leaf, I settled down into Rome
And somewhere in between me and Barcelona
I heard the rush of the wind calling Home.

I could see 7 miles into the distance
Before the earth began its curve out of site
And I leaned to the wind to feel a resistance;
To let me know I’m not a bird- I don’t fly.

I won’t take my time or circle ’round
Or weave my way through busy towns
Cause I could get lost if I miss a sign.
I’ll take the shortest path between you and I
And cut right through in a perfect line
And come to you as the crow flies.

From where I stand Home is like a middle daughter-
Just a dot, on the map, in a world
And I’m reminded wheels don’t roll on water
So, tell me lies; Tell me I am a bird.

I won’t take my time or circle ’round
Or weave my way through busy towns
Cause I could get lost if I miss a sign.
I’ll take the shortest path between you and I
And cut right through in a perfect line
And come to you as the crow flies.

I will come to you as the crow flies.

February 16th, 2009 is the day I turned 28 years old. I turned off my phone last night. I had me time. I slept in until 1pm today and took my time. I woke up to no alarm. I went to lunch with my brother at my favorite BBQ joint. I’m sifting through emails and mySpace/Facebook comments from my dearest friends. I’m changing “27″ to “28″ on every biography that is seeded online. I’ve got a party planned at my local haunt tonight. I’m going to take things too far. Today, I’m 28 years old.

Much of my music lends a respect to life, aging and legacies. By no means do I feel overtly-old today but, as another year passes, one can’t help but reflect on the previous 27 and the events that led me here.

Today’s blog post will dip into my archives and site the themes of time and age in my music and poetry:

QUOTES: A handful of insightful quotes from the years.

FROM: AS OF LATE
I’ve got memories.
All the pieces that make up me-
Distant memories-
That are stuck to the ceiling
And hanging above my head.

FROM: BABYSITTING THE COWBOY
Lisa. Please watch over me;
Write it down in your memory that I-
I was a child lost in a daydream.

FROM: EVERYBODY & CHANGE
It’s not fair that none of us
Are anywhere we use to be,
This time last year.
Back when the rain cut into summer
And it kept us home from the little games we played.
It’s the reason that you’re leaving…
And staying away.

FROM: EXPLODE
In my bones I’m feeling older-
This war time has changed me-
I’m no doubt colder
And I will freeze here long before I burn.

FROM: GETTING OLD
Bring back the days when our hearts were bold
Cause now it seems, these days, we are getting old.

FROM: GHOST
Seven years- this could break me.
Seven years and I can’t forget that face
(though I’ve tried).

I MIGHT BE GONE
I might be gone by the end of this day
When my soul retires and drifts into space
And all of my life is at the mercy of grace-
Remember me time, as I float away.

I might be gone in ten thousand days
When all of my life is rocking chair gray.
I hope I go in the middle of a crowd-
They’ll remember me then
Because people get use to having people around.

Our memories remain through the poets and songs-
They are filling the graves with history’s bones.
We all sink by the side of the afternoon light-
What can you expect?
We are mortals in time.

And in time, I might get old.
I might retire.
I might have little ones with minds I inspire.
I might get lucky and they’ll remember this song-
I hope it happens cause I might be gone.

IMMORTAL
Sitting by his gravestone I thought about his name
A slate of stone is all that remains.
The man once loved, now dissolved in a memory
Of a man once revered and treasured by family.

One hundred years gone has taken this memory
Stripped his kin and killed his legacy.
No one that knew him is left or remains
Only a history book might remember his claim.

I know one day I will join his bones
And leave those that I loved and loved me alone.
But who is so lucky to be immortalized in literature?
Nothing I’ve done deserves such an honor.

OLD THINGS
I remember living there- remember me?
Nothing fills your heart like history.
There is room for little space
And all of our hearts can be replaced
So we traded in the birch for the pine trees
And the evergreens.

New things always shine but
They don’t make them anymore like the old things.

I remember loving you- remember me?
Nothing fills your heart like history.
There is room for little space
And all of our hearts can be replaced
But she will always be so close to me.

New things always shine but
They don’t make them anymore like the old things
What is new was never mine
So I feel nothing really shines like the old things.

FROM: THE SEQUEL
I needed change but all along
I’ve been living these yesterdays.

FROM: THE TUMBLE
Gone now are years of memories
That nobody wants but me
But that sounds like me, that is, to hold on endlessly.

FROM: WHISTLE STOP
It’s the end of the line
Your train rolled through the time.
Now, all your graces
And your legacies stand.

FROM: WHISTLE STOP
Where it stops I can’t say
But those warm summer days
Roll by like cars on a train.

FROM: WYOMING
All the years hang on the wind
Above this last good plot of land.
I hear it echo in the trees.
I hear it’s whisper on my knees.

SONGS: A handful of songs that reference aging, life and legacies.

BABYSITTING THE COWBOY

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EVERYBODY & CHANGE

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GETTING OLD

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I MIGHT BE GONE

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OLD THINGS

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WHISTLE STOP

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It seems months since I last wrote a song. Between recording the new album, work and juggling my personal life, I’ve been sitting in a major writer’s slump with no signs of progress. Well, this Sunday I slept in, woke up and made a pot of coffee and went to my balcony with my writing journal in hand. I sat in the sun for a couple hours with nothing but my thoughts and a pen.

Nothing is final, nothing is complete but I did get a jump start on three possible songs: The Ramblin’ Kind, Explode and Constant Bending (all tentative titles). Above are a few Ramblin’ Kind verses directly from my journal. Read them out-loud and and imagine its potential. It was a good weekend- no doubt.

Sifting through the pictures from my trip to Wyoming, I found this beautiful shot of the Popo Agie River. The Popo Agie is a small river that runs through the middle of Lander, WY and I had the opportunity to wade my feet in the water and sit on the shore like I use to as a child. This time, I repeated the lyrics of my song Popo Agie to myself while I sat in the place of its inspiration. I guess I wanted to relive the days and see how accurate my words were in relation to the actual. See for yourself:

POPO AGIE
by tyler stenson

I can feel the Lander wind,
Coming up beneath me again.
But to the north there are billionaires
That lay between the millionaires and
Their buildings stretch to touch the sky
In the bigger world on the other side of the middle-
of Popo Agie.

Running down the crooked miles,
I could feel the muscles tire.
I could bend my tongue and sing
The words of Pioneers
(They’re coming up between my teeth).
And all at once their melodies
Turn to fields of industry and
The California air to black
So the movie stars are moving back to the middle-
to Popo Agie.

These are places,
Western spaces and
I go back there just to taste it.
Feel a warm night,
Mixed with fireflies
Where I can feel the Lander wind
Coming up beneath me again.

POPO AGIE live at ORMF 2006 (the 2007 recording is on the way!)

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The Portland Songwriters Association puts out a Quarterly Newsletter that highlights the latest and greatest in the PSA. This most recent update was a very warm surprise for me and a great way to start the weeks of June. The newsletter featured a wonderful report on the Top Ten Showcase and then published the results of the Quarterly Lyric Contest! I wanted to post the Top Ten article in full so click here or on the image above to read the article. I sincerely enjoyed reading Tom Arnolds’ and Dan McIlhenry recap on the PSA Winner’s Showcase and thank them both for his kind words.

Tyler Stenson closed the show with a wide array of his own material. He took us back to re-listen to the selections he played as part of the competition and filled out the rest of his set with some equally grabbing songs. Tyler takes advantage of the limelight when he performs, drawing audiences into his songs.

At times he’ll slow his phrasing down to a near standstill accompanied by a whisper and then dramatically bounce back powerfully working his voice and guitar through the next pass. It’s exciting to hear him share his poetic, image rich songs. PSA wishes [you] the best with your singing and songwriting!

Tom Arnold and Dan McIlhenry
-PSA Board Members

There were many great artists involved so I encourage you to read the article and check out some of the other writers when you get the chance! In the meantime, below are some links to the PSA Newsletter!

PSA Newsletter Cover
PSA Top Ten Article (cont’d)

PUBLISHED LYRIC CONTEST RESULTS

Thank you PSA for publishing such a nice article and hosting such a fun contest(s).

The results for the Portland Songwriters Association Quarterly Lyric Contest are in! I’m extremely proud to announce that my song Whistle Stop has been selected as the winning lyric submission. I am very proud of this song in particular and what it has to say; therefore, I’m honored for the recognition and what it has brought to me and Lander.

Click to read the lyrics to Whistle Stop

Whistle Stop by Tyler Stenson

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