1. |
Now You Know
04:34
|
|||
|
When I was less than 25, I thought I knew the truth Armed with a college education and the arrogance of youth It’s a great big world, got a lot to show
The more I see, the less I know
When I was less than 25, it all seemed in my grasp Now that I am older, I’ve fallen on my ass
A few times, got a lot to learn
The further I move down the road the more it turns It’s a great big world, got a lot to show
The more I see, the less I know
When I was less than 25. I thought I knew it all
Leaves drop in October and that’s why we call it fall Never thought about Adam, never thought about Eve, about the garden and why they had to leave
I never felt naked or full of sin
Now I do so let the party begin
We figure it out when it’s all too late
And Saint Peter meets you laughing at the gate
Says, “This is Heaven, you’re welcome any time.
No, that’s just stuff some folks made up to keep you all in line. That stuff’s a joke, I thought you knew.
Well, now you know.”
Well certainty is a comforting perspective
When the world is just your high school or your village or your job but life was more complex than I expected
I found that certainty can be a quality that turns a crowd into a mob
Now I’m long past 25, I’ve learned and I’ve forgot
All I needed to survive, but answers I have not
We figure it out when it’s all too late
And Saint Peter meets you laughing at the gate
Says, “This is Heaven, everybody’s here
Everybody straight, everybody queer.
Everybody rich, everybody poor
We just float around so there’s no ground for folks to be fighting for.
That stuff’s a joke, I thought you knew.
Well, now you know.”
|
||||
2. |
Holding Sand
03:08
|
|||
|
Empty walls wear shadows where pictures once were hung
Each a window looking back to days when you were young
There’s light and dark as all the years are mirrored in your mind
But holding back the tears won’t hold back time
Honeycomb cells of paper pressed into boxes for memories
Objects aren’t as precious as the moments that they keep
There’s a sweetness and sting that clings to these things when you hold them in your hand but holding onto time’s like holding sand
You lived inside this house
And it lives inside of you
Found things you never knew about
Now no one’s left to put those questions to
Packing carefree days in newsprint, place them two by two
You never understood why they kept your toys, but now I guess you do When you close that door the last time and break the final thread
This mem’ry box is waiting beneath your bed
You lived inside this house
And it lives inside of you
Found things you never knew about
Now no one’s left to put those questions to
There’s a sweetness and sting that clings to these things when you hold them in your hand But holding onto time’s like holding sand
|
||||
3. |
Black Cloud
03:30
|
|||
|
Pull up your socks kid, don’t get her pregnant That’s the kind of sage advice my father’d give I’m thankful for the women who taught me to be a man Hope I was more helpful to my kids
But nothing could prepare them
For this mess we’re seeing now
Fading into blue light
Under a black cloud
Every generation gains and loses information Keeping only what they think is true
The wisdom of the ages falls behind with all the changes And we’re all left just staring at our shoes
But nothing could prepare them
For this mess we’re seeing now
Fading into blue light
Under a black cloud
The bruises on the inside only speak to you People say a kid just being a kid
You’re on mom’s list of worries but only one of many Maybe best to keep those feeling hid
But she could not prepare you
For this mess we’re seeing now
Fading into blue light
Under a black cloud
Under a black cloud
|
||||
4. |
Touch
02:23
|
|||
|
Keeping to myself in these days
A skinner box astronaut, rat caught in my mind’s maze
Nothing but this sweater to hug me
No skin can come in, I’m settling for a mug of tea
To be warmed by you is what I want
To be swarmed by all the feelings
And, haunted Long after you leave
I want to believe we can have that again when this all ends
How’s it going over on your side
Of the tiny box with the glowing dots approximating our lives?
Do you watch the bees out in the yard like I do?
Spreading life from the buzzing hive, all in spite of the numbers in the news
To be warmed by you is what I want
To be swarmed by all the feelings
And, haunted Long after you leave
I want to believe we can have that again when this all ends
Sky grows dark and the house is hushed
Your word screen is a sunbeam, but nothing replaces touch Your word screen is a sunbeam, but nothing replaces touch
|
||||
5. |
Can't Go Home
04:35
|
|||
|
Strange to think I’ll never turn at that tree again
Never know the next thing that old coffee shop becomes Strange to never have a reason to come back to this town Now that the artist is gone
She showed me there were colors behind the colors I could see And sometimes with people it was just the same
She was rooted in this place for four generations
Now most folks here don’t even know her name
It’s the end of your beginning, the beginning of an end When your mother dies you can’t go home again
When you’re a weird kid sometimes your mom is your best friend And there’s times when you might be hers
When you don’t ask about the silence that stalks around the house Don’t tell her that you noticed the tears
It’s the end of your beginning, the beginning of an end When your mother dies you can’t go home again
Strange to climb the next rung on this ladder
With the diving platform up ahead
No one knows how far the leap or what that pool is filled with And I wonder if you notice when you’re dead
It’s the end of your beginning, the beginning of an end When your mother dies you can’t go home again
When your mother dies you can’t go home again
|
||||
6. |
Down in New Orleans
02:20
|
|||
|
A river bride, mud and lace
Dirty nails and a pretty face
I never met a city with a sense of place quite like New Orleans
Africa, France, Scotland and Spain
Mix like the waters of Lake Pontchartrain They made up some music to give it a name Down in New Orleans
Joan of Arc wears a poker face
And the fleur de lis like the whores and the slaves The dealer smiles and hides an ace
Down in New Orleans
The crescent is an elbow locked
Nursing a glass of chartreuse
You found the right place if you want to get lost Or there’s something you might want to lose
There’s gumbo that covers the rice on your plate And the kind that you find in a stranger’s face They’re trying like hell to keep the faith Down in New Orleans
Down in New Orleans
|
||||
7. |
Orphaned Heart
04:58
|
|||
|
Edward took in strays
To the house his mother left him
Some cats and dogs, a woman once A girl cast out for shame
He said she could stay until the baby came
He knew he was unloveable
But hope’s a funny old cuss
Her affection had surprised him
But it never came to sex or love
But he knew something shifted in his blood
And his orphaned heart
With orphan’s dreams
Finding love
And family
Six degrees of circumstance
And sixteen years of hard life
Brought her to his doorstep
And woke him from that long night Sleepwalking through his life
Then a brother came and took her When the child arrived
Regret’s a sharp-toothed cancer
When it hits you late in life
With no time left to set things right
In his orphaned heart
With orphan’s dreams
Finding love
And family
Now Edward spends his days
Watching mothers through the pane Hopes that he will recognize
But you know how people change Keeps a picture locket in his brain
And his orphaned heart
With orphan’s dreams finding love And family
Finding love and family
|
||||
8. |
So Said Life
02:59
|
|||
|
So said life, and dreams agreed
“You know this fighting's bound to bring me to my knees.” The wind chimed in, “I do despair
Promises are spoken and then vanish in the air.”
Hope sighs, “Long I've wandered
Just to see my good seed squandered
I'm seeking my release
From a world that won't believe in peace."
God joined in, “Look at what's become
Of the world to which I gave my only son
They use my names in war, twisted up my love Claim their words for mine as they kill the dove."
Hope cries, “Long I've wandered
Just to find my good seed squandered
I'm seeking my release
From a world that won't believe in peace.”
If we are hopeless, then will we know
We wasted seeds we were meant to sow?
Hope dies when it’s seeds lie barren
With no breeze or bird to bear them
“Be the bird, be the breeze,”
So said life
|
||||
9. |
Fill The Space
03:40
|
|||
|
The rain declares to the window, steady and plainspoken, Today will be an inside day
The horizon stretches monochrome, dark and unbroken An unapologetic gray
But I won’t mind this day and its honeydrip pace
I can fill the space with a song
Footfalls land like cannonballs inside this empty house The floors are hard, cold and bare
Dust cakes the cracks in the ladder backs ‘cept the one I sit in now They haven’t moved in years
But I don’t mind this place, it takes on a simple grace When you fill the space with a song
This strange world
This lonely life
You sing out your questions
The answer is time
My heart was left scarred and hollow
Like a strip-mined Appalachian hill
My bones have lost their marrow
I’ve got some space to fill
But I won’t fade away or crumble in place
I can fill the space with a song
I fill this space with your song
|
||||
10. |
Trouble (radio edit)
03:43
|
|||
|
Sunday in America near a burning police station
Three black men argue through their tears of pent-up frustration ‘cause not a fucking thing has changed in the span of their lives At fifteen, or at thirty, or at fifty-five
Some folks went to church today and felt that they were good Took their coffee and their piety back to gated neighborhoods Well if Jesus cured the lepers, maybe he can cure them too Of this disease nobody’s born with, from which no-one is immune
Oh we’ve got trouble, deeper than bone
Trouble, trouble we all own
This trouble is not with our skin
It’s our country’s original sin
Monday in America, the economy comes first
Is the NASDAQ up or is it down? Will we all get back to work? Commerce is the engine that brought us to this place A dumpster fire of politics, religion and race
And, trouble deeper than bone
Trouble, trouble we all own
This trouble is not with our skin
It’s our country’s original sin
You can’t put a value on a life
If you’re a grieving mother, or a grieving wife
But there’s a cubicle calculation, and in case you hadn’t guessed If your skin’s black or brown the figure’s been that much less
Oh trouble, deeper than bone
Trouble, trouble we all own
This trouble is not with our skin
It’s our country’s original sin
Some folks in America think that money makes us great From the White House to the big box to the church collection plate But there’s an empty promise on every dollar bill
And we will not be good or great while it goes unfulfilled
|
||||
11. |
Still Good
03:19
|
|||
|
A phone call is not your body
Tracing a path of glowing words is not how fingers want to talk When it’s dark out and it’s dark in
Need to get together for a long walk
So I can see your face, know your eyes
And feel that every word is landing like it should And we’re still good
It’s distance and commitments
And lists of things that we’ve both gotta do
You’re sorry and I’m sorry
About this world that keeps us circling like each other’s moons
Need to see your face, know your eyes
And feel that everything is landing like it should
And we’re still good
Fading, the fear of fading
Harries all my waking hours and haunts me through the night See how the moonglow in the morning
Pales against the brighter sky then disappears from sight
So I can’t see your face, know your eyes
And feel that everything is landing like it should
And we’re still good
Are we still good?
|
||||
12. |
Trouble (explicit)
03:43
|
|||
|
Sunday in America near a burning police station
Three black men argue through their tears of pent-up frustration ‘cause not a fucking thing has changed in the span of their lives At fifteen, or at thirty, or at fifty-five
Some folks went to church today and felt that they were good Took their coffee and their piety back to gated neighborhoods Well if Jesus cured the lepers, maybe he can cure them too Of this disease nobody’s born with, from which no-one is immune
Oh we’ve got trouble, deeper than bone
Trouble, trouble we all own
This trouble is not with our skin
It’s our country’s original sin
Monday in America, the economy comes first
Is the NASDAQ up or is it down? Will we all get back to work? Commerce is the engine that brought us to this place A dumpster fire of politics, religion and race
And, trouble deeper than bone
Trouble, trouble we all own
This trouble is not with our skin
It’s our country’s original sin
You can’t put a value on a life
If you’re a grieving mother, or a grieving wife
But there’s a cubicle calculation, and in case you hadn’t guessed If your skin’s black or brown the figure’s been that much less
Oh trouble, deeper than bone
Trouble, trouble we all own
This trouble is not with our skin
It’s our country’s original sin
Some folks in America think that money makes us great From the White House to the big box to the church collection plate But there’s an empty promise on every dollar bill
And we will not be good or great while it goes unfulfilled
|
||||
Doug Kolmar Portland, Maine
Doug Kolmar is an award-winning singer/songwriter based near Portland, ME. His songs are notable for their ability to uncover large truths through small details. Since moving to Maine 20 years ago, he has focused on writing and performing songs that connect with audiences by telling stories of everyday struggles, with warmth, empathy, and a touch of dark humor. ... more
If you like Doug Kolmar, you may also like:
Collaborating remotely with 12 songwriters from all over the world, Kim Edgar emerged with a work of striking art pop.
go to album
Into the Depths of Hell
by Joshua Burnside
Joshua Burnside uses field recordings, drone, delay and spoken-word sample to modernize traditional Irish music.
go to album
Dakota Blue Moon
by Jackson Harden
Gorgeous acoustic Americana from North Carolina, stripped-back and sublime.
go to album
THAT PASSED
by Patrick Regan Band
This collection of '90s work from folkie Patrick Regan and friends will appeal to fans of Fairport Convention and Pentangle.
go to album
Caught Up On A Feeling
by Veronica Stanton
Stunningly beautiful orchestral folk songs with just a hint of country, delivered with heart-on-sleeve immediacy.
go to album
The latest album by Phill Reynolds, a project of Italian singer Silva Martino Cantele, takes listeners on an Americana-fueled musical ride.
go to album
A vibrant vision of "Central Americana" from the Costa Rica-based artist, blending heartland devotionals with playful Tropicália grooves.
go to album
