Tornado Born
He’s a drinker and
He’s a fighter
He’s a womanizing man
He’s a rambler and
He’s a gambler
He’s a singer in the band
And he sings a song when he gets drunk
That’ll bring tears to your eyes
And he bows his head when he gets done
And goes back stage and cries
You see he’d always lived a reckless life
Until he met his bride
And he vowed to her he’d change his ways
And we all know he tried
They bought a house with a big front porch
Just outside of town
And though she came to bear his baby boy
She never did give birth
Because the Angles came
And they took his bride
And they took his baby too
And it broke him down
And he can’t get up
And there’s nothing we can do
Now he’s a drinker and
He’s a fighter
He’s a womanizing man
He’s a rambler and
He’s a gambler
He’s a singer in the band
And he sings a song when he gets drunk
That’ll bring tears to your eyes
And he bows his head when he gets done
And goes back stage and cries
So when you hear him sing his song
Try to understand
That the life he’s lived
And the love he’s lost
Is more than you could stand
And he’s past caring
Yes he’s past caring
I said he’s past caring
We don't get to hear him sing that song very often. He can't take it, and we are afraid the audience doesn't want to be taken that low very often. He lived the song and still lives it every day. He is alright now, but the sadness is always with him. Someday, maybe, he will be able to move on and take his life in perspective. It is hard to believe all he has been through and all the crazy things he has done. Why, even his birth was an unbelievably extraordinary event followed by a childhood that one seldom expects.
As stories go
There’s few’ve been told
More amazing than this one
About a man who tried to stand
Misfortune never missed him
It cut him down every time he tired
With no place on Earth to hide
His life was shot to pieces
His life was shot to pieces
Tornado born his life was sworn
To the path of least resistance
His only friend the wayward wind
He was tossed in all directions
He never got his feet on the ground
Trouble knew where he could be found
He reaped a crop of heart aches
He reaped a crop of heart aches
So gather around and sit right down
We’ll sing the songs that tell the tale
We’ll make you laugh, we’ll make you cry
We’ll even make you wonder why
Life can be so hard sometimes
The innocent get caught in crimes
And justice indeed does seem blind
And justice indeed does seem blind
[I wrote this song quite quickly and easily. I needed a song to introduce the story of Armstrong McCall. The one difficulty I had was the second verse, which took a long time to get. I wanted something that seemed to be an old saying about tornado born boys, and I spoke to many people about it for help. My niece, Ashley was very helpful. Once that line was written, and I wrote many before coming up with this one, the rest was easy. I do not know at this time where the scratch pages with all the ideas on it are. It is not in the green notebook I originally used for the album.]
On a farm in the heart of Texas
A tornado is ripping crops from the field
The little hand-made house stands firm and strong
But in the middle of the night
The barn lost the fight
But the farmers refused to yield
Through the roaring wind the thunder and the rain
A small sweet voice cries out in pain
A coal oil lantern keeps the cellar light bright
As Mr. McCall does everything right
To help his wife bring their son into life
Their greatest joy midst the struggle and strife
By the morning light
Not a cloud’s left in sight
Breakfast is made and the chores are all done
After the meal lots of kisses and hugs
Then even the baby got some
Despite all the damage and destruction that’s done
They’re a happy young couple with a new baby son
Some of the old folks in Texas know
A boy born in a tornado
Will always have the wind for a friend
The wind will always be his best friend
But it’ll blow him around like a leaf on the snow
It’ll blow him around like a leaf on the early snow
Life was good as the years rolled by
The weather was a blessing and the crops grew high
They were healthy and happy and glad to be alive
The boy started school when he turned five
And that’s when the town met Armstrong McCall
And they all agreed he had the best name of all
For he was strong as an ox and unusually tall
Everyone liked little whopper McCall
He liked ‘em back and played with ‘em all
It seemed natural to them he had power with the breezes
They seemed to embrace him and do as he pleases
They lifted him up when the wind blew strong
And lightly set him down before too long
Every year in the heat of July
The family gathered at a park nearby
Cousins by the herd and music home brewed
They popped firecrackers and ate home grown food
There days of fun that went by too fast
They treasured each moment right down to the last
Treasured all the more for a sense of knowing
That the winds of change were brewing for a blowing
Because some of the old folks in Texas know
A boy born in a tornado
Will always have the wind for a friend
The wind will always be his best friend
But it’ll blow him around like a leaf on the snow
It’ll blow him around like a leaf on the early snow
While Armstrong and his daddy were outside at play
Mom went to buy a bike for his eighth birthday
A beautiful sunny day, the birds were a singing
No sign of the doom the winds were a bringing
A beautiful young mother just strolling along
Joy in her heart, on her sweet lips a song
When suddenly a cop who had just got off work
But was already drunk and completely berserk
Let his car scream out of control
And hit Judy McCall, releasing her soul
That's right! She was gone. It was too much for Armstrong's dad.
Don’t hit me again Daddy
I promise I’ll be good
I won’t hang around with Dinger no more
I’ll go back to school like I should
I miss Mommy as much as you
It’s not my fault she’s gone
This farming life is so boring to me
I don’t know what I will do
If you’d just stop drinking
Things would get better
You’ve been drinking since she died
For four long years this farm has been sinking
I don’t know if we will survive
Don’t hit me again Daddy
I promise I’ll be good
I won’t hang around with Dinger no more
I’ll go back to school like I should
I know you’re sad
But don’t get so mad
And then take it out on me
I’m not going to take it much longer I swear
I'm twelve years old and it’s just not fair
You’re killing yourself and I can’t bear to watch
You’re all I got left, please stop drinking that scotch
If you could just see
What it’s doing to me
To see you fall down this way
I know you’d get better
I know we’d have fun
I know you’d come back out and play
Don’t hit me again Daddy
I promise I’ll be good
I won’t hang around with Dinger no more
I’ll go back to school like I should
If you don’t stop drinking
I’ll get started leaving
You’re embarrassing me everyday
Last night when you came out to the game
You came out on the field all drunk
Staggering and falling and acting like a fool
The whole school was watching
And I’m dying of shame
Now you expect me to go back to school
I can’t show my face when my daddy’s a fool
I can’t show my face when my daddy’s a fool
I can’t show my face when my daddy’s a fool
[This song is hard for me to play. The chords are demanding and the story comes too much from my own experience.]
Come on Dinger let’s get out of here
My heart’s on fire and I just don’t care
Daddy won’t stop drinking
I gotta get away
Gotta find a brand to place to stay
I heard California is the place to be
I’m hopping a freight won’t you come with me
All these years my daddy’s been drunk
What ain’t lost has already turned to junk
He beats me all the time
And I’ve had enough
I’m leaving this farm
Even if it gets rough
We’re twelve years old
We’re almost grown
The winds of change have already blown
Come on Dinger let’s get out of here
The weather if fine but I just don’t care
Daddy won’t stop drinking
I gotta get away
Gotta find a brand to place to stay
I heard California is the place to be
I’m hopping a freight won’t you come with me
Tommy’s brother lives in San Francisco
He paints high bridges that’s where we’ll go
We’ll get jobs with him on a real high bridge
It’ll be as fun as climbing Tomahawk ridge
The six o’clock freight slows down real slow
We can jump on it and away we’ll go
Hey Armstrong
Aint California out west
Yea Dinger, why
Well, I don’t think this train is going west
Holly cow, Dinger, your right
We’re going the wrong way
[This is a story based on a true experience by my dad and Dinger (Dingus). They jumped on a freight train to get to a near by town not realizing that the train didn't even slow down in the town they trying to get to. I heard the story many times. It was always funny. They had a tough time getting back home.]
We’re going the wrong way
We’re going the wrong way
Oh no, we’re going the wrong way
We’re going too fast to jump off now
There’s no telling where we’ll end up now
We’ll have to ride it out and see what happens
I can’t for the life of me figure out how this happened
But we’re going the wrong way
We’re going the wrong way
Oh no, we’re going the wrong way
We should have thought it through before we started
There will be a lot of people broken hearted
We’re going the wrong way
We’re going the wrong way
We gotta figure out how we’ll get back
Boys will be boys. Armstrong and Dinger got on the wrong train. By the time they got turned around they had decided to follow through with their plans to go to California. In those days the world was different. Being twelve years old was older than it is today. They ended up on a west-bound train, but they had some trouble making it all the way to California. They got picked up by the law in New Mexico.
Howdy Sheriff, I’m Jack McCall
I’m here for my boy, Armstrong McCall
And his best friend, Dinger
They’re runaways
I need to change my ways.
I’m pleased to meet you mister McCall
And I’m sorry you had to drive so far
But your boy’s not here
They’re already gone
I tried to call you on the phone
You see, your boy outsmarted my deputy
Your boy outsmarted by best deputy
He showed up this morning at five o’clock
And saw the boys sleeping in the back cell block
He woke ‘em up and asked ‘em what they did
Your boy told him they were just tired kid
That I let ‘em sleep in the cell last night
And they had to get home before the morning light
Their folks would be worried if they knew they were gone
And they need to hurry to get back home
He let ‘em out and they walked away
We’ve been trying to find them all day
Old Hank at the station out on the west side
Said he saw two boys trying to catch a ride
They were headed west this morning at eight
Seems they learned their lesson about hopping freights
I think they’re headed home as fast as they can
That boy of yours is a twelve year old man
If they’re already there when you get back
Let me know so I can hit the sack
Your boy told me why they ran away
You’re right. You need to change your ways.
I’ve seen it before and it’s always the same
Alcohol and grief makes a man insane
But you’ve still got your boy and you’ve got your farm
You need to shape up before you come to harm
You’re a lucky man to have such a son
I’d give up a leg to have me one
I’m sorry about the boy’s mother
But a twelve year old boy can recover
He just needs you now more than ever
You’ll take my advice if you're clever.
[As far as I have been able to determine, this is a true story that is embellished very little. My dad's mother told me the story when I was a kid. She was very angry with my dad over it, as was his dad, I am sure. I only filled in some of the details that could not have bee know to my grandmother, but I have kept the story true to the facts. They did run away and get picked up in New Mexico, only to escape and go on to California where they got jobs painting bridges. Dad came back form California and swore never to return. He never did, not even for my wedding, which was done in Samuel P. Taylor park just outside of San Francisco. My wife was from that area.]
{I have some songs that go here and that fill out the events in the story. I am not putting them here because I want to continue to work on them. One came to me suddenly only a few days ago. It was a wonderful experience. The story unfolds with Jack finding Armstrong and Dinger in California and convincing his son that he wants him back and that he will never drink another drop. The boys were actually eager to comply. They couldn't get the jobs they planned to get and were quite desperate by the time Jack shows up. Armstrong goes back to school, gets a college degree and joins the Marines.}
Charley’s in the jungle
He’s spoiling for a rumble
It’s hell over here in Vietnam
Choppers beat the tree tops
Dropping men into the cash crops
It’s hell over here in Vietnam
The ground is filled with tunnels
That swallow men and dogs like funnels
The dogs sniff out the bombs
The men fight the Vietcong
It’s hand to hand fighting in mighty tight places
I can’t forget the faces
Of the men I killed in Vietnam
And all I can think about is going home
If I can live long enough to make it home
Oh how I want to go home
I bail out of choppers with a dog strapped to my chest
The dog I jump with is the best
The best damn dog in Vietnam
They call us tunnel rats
But you gotta be bats
The crawl down in a tunnel in Vietnam
And all I can think about is going home
If I can live long enough to make it home
Oh how I want to go home
I hope to see you soon Dad
I know it sounds bad
But I can make it, I know I can
I’ll be back to lend a hand
I might even join a band
I look forward to being a farmer
And a lady charmer
Once I get done in Vietnam
Your loving son, Lieutenant Armstrong McCall
United States Marine Corps
It takes a honky-tonk woman to get up close to me
It takes a honky-tonk woman to get up close to me
She can’t be no rock and rolling honey
She can’t be no classical long-haired bunny
It takes a honky-tonk woman to get up close to me
She’s gotta know all those old cowboy song
She’s gotta do the two-step all night long
It takes a honky-tonk woman to get up close to me
She can’t be no laid back blues singing momma
She can’t be no high-toned operatic drama
It takes a honky-tonk woman to get up close to me
She’s gotta chase whiskey with good cold beer
She’s gotta take till midnight just to hit high gear
It takes a honky-tonk woman to get up close to me
She’s gotta be scrappy and she’s gotta be strong
She’s gotta know that by my side’s where she belongs
It takes a honky-tonk woman to get up close to me
She’s gotta be ready to run to with me
She’s gotta be able to let me be free
It takes a honky-tonk woman to get up close to me
She’s gotta ride horses and even break broncs
She’s gotta be the queen of the honky tonks
It takes a honky-tonk woman to get up close to me
Yeah, I gotta have a honky-tonk woman
Driving down the road doing ninety miles an hour
Splashing through the waters of a cold thunder shower
Don’t know exactly where I’m going
But I know my hurry is showing
Gotta get away from the place I’ve been
Can’t ever go back there again
Gotta find a brand new place in sun
So I’m going out west to find some fun
I didn’t know that guy was a cop
And I knocked him down before she could yell, “Stop.”
He came up waiving a gun
And I’m not the kind of guy to run
I grabbed his arm and swung him around
He dropped his gun and when it hit the ground
It went off and shot him in the head
And he fell to the ground stone cold dead
Driving down the road doing ninety miles an hour
Splashing through the waters of a cold thunder shower
Don’t know exactly where I’m going
But I know my hurry is showing
Gotta get away from the place I’ve been
Can’t ever go back there again
Gotta find a brand new place in sun
So I’m going out west to find some fun
Well this guy came up and he grabbed my girl
He yanked her from my arms and gave her a whirl
He pulled her up close and kissed her on the lips
Then gave her a thrust right from the hips
She slapped his face but couldn’t get away
He was so drunk he thought it was play
And tried to dance her around the floor
But I saw red and couldn’t take no more
Driving down the road doing ninety miles an hour
Splashing through the waters of a cold thunder shower
Don’t know exactly where I’m going
But I know my hurry is showing
Gotta get away from the place I’ve been
Can’t ever go back there again
Gotta find a brand new place in sun
So I’m going out west to find some fun
Now you may think that I shouldn’t a run
I was defending my girl from a guy with a gun
But he was a cop and I was a bum
I’m not too smart but I’m sure not dumb
They’d a put me jail and thrown away the key
And I’d rather be running as long as I’m free
So I hit the door in a blinding whirl
And that dead cop can have that girl
Driving down the road doing ninety miles an hour
Splashing through the waters of a cold thunder shower
Don’t know exactly where I’m going
But I know my hurry is showing
Gotta get away from the place I’ve been
Can’t ever go back there again
Gotta find a brand new place in sun
So I’m going out west to find some fun
[This is based on a true story, saddly. My father was the one grabbing the girl from the cop's arms though. No one got killed, but I came the his rescue as two cops who were off duty were attempting to arrest him and finding only a tough fight on their hands.]
All alone in New York City
The city of stardom and fame
Well I came to New York City
For the thrills of the big city game
But now I’m going back to Texas
And life will never be the same
I’ve been two-timed by two different ladies
I’ve been used and just tossed aside
Well, New York and Sadie are two-timing ladies
They both made me sorry I tried
[This song is not completed]
Armstrong ran from the scene and was pursued by the law. He went to California, but didn't stay. From there he went to New York City where he had tough times and returned to Texas. He got arrested and sentenced to a year in prison for leaving the scene. When they put him in his cell, the fearsome guy that was already occupying the cell had to be dealt with right away.
Howdy,
My name is Armstrong
Armstrong McCall
Don’t ask me for nothing
Nothing at all
Cause I wouldn’t give you the time of day
My advice to you is stay out of my way
Cause my fists do my talking
And they’re yakady yakers
My kicks are like lightning
They’re thunder crackers
I’m meaner than a grizzly’s been shot in the leg
It won’t do you no good at all to beg
I don’t like you or care who you are
I don’t care what you did to be behind these bars
Just watch your mouth cause I hit first
Get hit by me and you’ll think your life is cursed
Life made me ornery and mean
I’m a full grown lean mean fighting machine
I’ve been everywhere and done everything
I can take anything the wind can bring
I’ve never lost a fight with another man
And I’ve whipped them in bunches with my bare hands.
I can handle a gun and fight with a knife
You mess with me you might lose your life
I’m not a cop-killer like you might have heard
I just knocked one down for acting absurd
He wasn’t on duty and was mighty drunk
Molesting my woman and being a punk
He had it coming so I gave him a bump
If he hadn’t been so drunk he wouldn’t have come up
Then he pulled a gun he couldn’t handle
I took it serious and now it’s a scandal
He dropped his gun and it shot him in the head
I didn’t kill him but he’s just as dead
Now I’m doing time and I don’t want no trouble
If it comes my way it comes back double
But I’m easy to get along with if you leave me alone
I’m easy to get along with if you leave me alone
So, just mind you own business and leave me alone
Just mind you own business and leave me alone
Armstrong did his time. When he got out he continued to drift around, homeless, penniless, careless and reckless until, as the song says, he met his bride.
[I am thinking of putting a song here that tells the story of Armstrong's romance and marriage. I have some of it written already, but I think there is merit in the idea of not putting it here so that the listener can fill in the space. The story seems to unfold just fine without a song here.]
It’s a long lonesome night
Not a star in sight
Just the cold north wind
To be my friend
And the wind don’t know
What the moon can’t show
And the clouds don’t try
To let the light get by
So that the wind can see
The tears it dries on me
So I bear my pain
Like the tracks bear the train
And the wind cries never
It just goes on forever
I don’t know why
I even try
To live my life
Without my baby
And my wife
I just bear my pain
Like the tracks bear the train
And the wind cries never
It just goes on forever
And it’s driving me
Insane
My baby wasn’t born
And my wife’s heart was torn
So deep she couldn’t keep
Her soul in this world
She just slipped away
Like a breeze on a summer day
And I can’t bear the pain
Like the tracks bear the train
And the wind cries never
It just goes on forever
And it’s driving me insane
I can find relief I know
On the rocks far below
I just need my old friend
The cold north wind
To lift me once again
Over the edge to my end
But the wind cries never
It just goes on forever
And it’s driving me insane
Just one more day
If I can make it just one more day
I’ll get over her and laugh again
Begin again to live without her
Some wounds never heal
You simply learn how not to feel
Then some memory comes along
And you’re out there on your own
Alone again
Her eyes were like diamonds
Strewn across a clear blue sky
She had the kindness of a saint
We all fell in love with her
And we’ll never be the same
Her hair was like sunshine
Spun into a golden rain
She had the presence of a mountain
But her size was quite petite
And she turned my life around
But she was the rainbow in the dew
She was the laughing winds refrain
The angels must have loved her
For they took her way too soon
And my life went down the drain
Now I’m fighting to survive
To stand under the pain
I hold on day to day
And this is my refrain
Just one more day
If I can make it just one more day
I’ll get over her and laugh again
Begin again to live without her
Some wounds never heal
You simply learn how not to feel
Then some memory comes along
And you’re out there on your own
Alone again
[This is the end of the story in song. There are a few other songs to go in with what is listed here. I will post them in due time. If you know someone who can and will help me with this project, please tell them about this site. All those who seem likely candidates have such a defense system in place, I haven't been able penetrate it. Thanks you very much for viewing my work.]
Dear World,
I think I have presented here something that is the first of its kind. This opinion has not been confirmed, but, to my knowledge, it has not been controverted either. I hope to be the creator of a new chapter in the evolution of music, possibly even two. To be the creator would give me even more satisfaction with my effort, but the project and the product itself have been immensely satisfying. What I have created is certainly unique, at least in the sense that all music is unique, but it could be the birth of something wonderful and new.
A "next phase" in the evolution of human music has been champing at the bit for a long time. I am stunned by the fact that it is not already being done. It seems so obvious! When Rock and Roll was born, it was a next phase in human music that was there all along and brimming at the edges to burst into the world. It appears that all the various types of music have a similar history. The lucky person or persons to give birth to the gestating infant enjoyed being the parents of something new. I have given birth!
I have been writing songs for a very long time just to express myself in a satisfying way, to move my feelings. I did not intend to put my songs into the public ear and I am not a performer. It was just something that I did for myself. Then I had an idea that I felt would change the world of music forever and that it had to be put out there. So, I spent a considerable length of time creating something born of the idea that had dawned on me quite to my surprise. The exploration of new and unknown areas can lead to the discovery of still more new areas, and that has occurred for me in this case. I have two ways to add to the library of music and to the evolution of musical forms.
Well, my endeavor to give birth to my baby got me pregnant with another baby that needed to be born and it is this particular baby that I am going to go into first. Have you ever heard a song and wondered about its history or what happened next? I have, a lot. Then it dawned on me. A lot of songs, great songs, beg for prequels and sequels. Take for example the song Willie Nelson wrote that Patsy Kline made immortal, "Crazy." I often wondered what Willie had experienced that made him write the song in the first place.
Willie Nelson lives in the same town I live in. I thought it might be possible to show my ideas and my music to him. That turned out to be naive. Every attempt I made resulted in nothing. Then it occurred to me that by writing the prequel to Crazy and sending it to his home, he might become interested. So, I did just that. Same result. I had written a song that will make it quite clear why the song "Crazy" had to be written. Why was the singer crazy to think that his love would hold her? Questions like that had to be answered. It was the tip of the baby tree emerging from the earth. It is growing bigger and bigger. Thousands, maybe millions of songs are begging for elaboration. Just think of how much new music can be written, must be written, will be written. I thought Willie Nelson would be the perfect vehicle for this new chapter. I sent him only the idea for sequels and prequels and tried to interest him into contacting me so I could present him with the original part of the concept. It didn't work. I appears that famous people such as he is have barriers around themselves to prevent such things as I was attempting. Who could blame them? I think my letter never got before his eyes. So now I am going to try this method of birthing these babies, even though I don't know nothing 'bout birthin' no babies.
For many years I had a desire to know more about the ideas and stories that songs presented. It was sort of a vague idea that eluded concrete expression until a song that I had written demanded that I write a song. That's right. A song made a demand upon me. The song has a line in it that mentions a song that someone sings: "And he sings a song when he gets drunk that will bring tears to your eyes." Before that song was very old, I began to want to write the song that will bring tears to your eyes, but it took a long time for me to respond. Eventually, I sat down and wrote the song. That led me to the idea I presented above that I like to refer to as the "sequels and prequels" idea. However, it also lead me to the other idea that I brought to full term and birthed.
Having two songs that fit together led me to write the rest of the story, and it is this concept that I pursued. I have written a saga that is told in song. Everyone wants to call it a "concept album." It is not that in my opinion. It is a story. I know of no other instance of this type of album, while concept albums are plentiful. This story unfolds the chapters in a man's life. It takes the listener on a trip. It has continuity, beginning and ending. It tells a story, the lyrics do. There may be such music already in existence. I don't know of any, but it doesn't really matter. I know of albums that are quite close the this, but none have quite this level of continuity, none seem as much like a book, and none are done in the country music style.
I have recited some of the lyrics to people, even complete strangers, to see how they go over. It was always wonderful. They seemed to work. So, since I can't put together a musical representation of my music worthy of the concept, I can present the lyrics in print and hope someone comes forward to help me. That is what this is. It is a long string of song lyrics put together and presented on the world wide web in a effort to reach the right person or persons who can help me present my new baby to the world.
All of these song lyrics have music that goes with them. They were written at the same time the music was written. I had a firm knowledge of what I had to say and the effort to put it into words resulted in the music that goes with them. I do not crave the spotlight or the stage. I am not interested in performing. I think performing requires a strong desire to perform. Also, I am not good enough to perform. I can play guitar some, but the screw in my fret side hand makes it painful and I have had it almost as long as I have been playing. Before I had it fixed with a screw, it hurt even worse. If I play long enough to become proficient on a song, my wrist swells up and hurts for a week or more. Besides that, I am only a mediocre singer. I can carry a tune, but my voice lacks the qualities that I think are necessary to perform. I tried to make a recording of my songs and it almost stopped me dead in my tracks. I do not want to try to present my music with such a poor representation. Even a demo seemed out of my reach. Given the equipment and the time, I might be able to put together a passable demo, but I am hoping that I can attract help without it. Maybe the lyrics and the concept will be strong enough to do that.
Songs need production. They need to be hammered into a fine tuning. Some really good guitar player who can sing well could make them come to life, but I mean to have them born into full glory. I mean to have them produced, arranged, and perfected. To have it come into life as I envision, many singers will have to help. There are songs written form the point of view of a young boy and the singer should be a young boy. Others are written from the perspective of a hardened tough guy, and the singer should be such a person, at least be able to sell it that way. There are quite a few different characters in the saga, each requiring a different singer to preform them. Then there are songs of sorrow and despair that need a very rich, dynamic singer, a singer who can sing the songs well enough to bring tears to your eyes. There is no way I can do all of that.
I want the performance of this music to be similar to the way the Transiberian Orchestra does their shows. I don't mean with all the light show. I mean with narration, with setting, in a country music style. I can see it on tour, already, in my mind. When the album is done, the listeners will feel they have been to a movie and will have been on a ride with all the emotion and adventure that goes with it. I want it to be the most entertaining music show that has ever been presented. Then I want everyone to put together their own story songs and add them to the library of human music. Meanwhile, sequels and prequels can be produced to add even more.
I called upon my own life and experience to create the songs in this saga. My father and myself are the models for the characters. Most people can't believe the stories about my father. They are just too outrageous. So, I got a camera and filmed the accounts given by the people who were there. Many of the chapters are directly derived from true stories of mine and my father's life. Some of the songs, on the other hand, are derived from the lives of others. I was never in Vietnam, for example, but I know people who were. Artistic license played a role, but not to a great extent.
I feel that I have given birth to something, but that doesn't mean that I am not willing to change anything. I am quite eager to improve everything.
The music of the songs are all very different from one another. I intended it to be that way. I didn't want them to be too similar. The ride demands this. The chapters of the story demand it. The music must fit the feeling the song expresses.
You can contact me at: nickey@tornadoborn.com
Thank you very much for your time and your interest.
You can check out the facebook page for this music at: www.facebook.com/tornadoborn . I chose not to put a button on this site to click because of the tracking and spying potential those things are reported to create.
You can contact me at: nickey@tornadoborn.com