To begin with, recording a song is incredibly more difficult in my Brooklyn apartment than it is in a New Hampshire basement. The very moment I hit record on the first guitar take, a car alarm sounded outside my window and continued for four solid minutes. Patience is ever a virtue in New York City.
I cried all the way back from New Hampshire. I haven't cried behind the wheel like that since the last time I left summer camp. It felt good and right. It was a gift to spend the past five months with my parents, knowing them better, and learning from their generosity, humor, and kindness. It was also our great fortune to be safe from the worst of the crisis so far. It was wonderful to be someplace beautiful and simple.
This place is complicated. I mean that both in terms of the logistics of living, and my feelings about being here. I last felt this way when when I first arrived in Brooklyn years ago. Covid has rendered my city alien to me, and I'm a bit bewildered by it. That said, I've learned this place before and I can do it again.
lyrics
Looks like I'm back in town
Where'd I run off to?
I've been around
I've been off hiding in outer space
I've been avoiding
The human race
What if I'm not the same
As I was when I left this place?
And all I was made of
Has vanished without a trace
It's a funny thing
'Cause I don't know
About my mother
She's seen it all
And see my father
He's standing tall
I've got their footsteps
I'm standing in
And I've got constants
Where I begin
What if I'm not the same
As I was when I left this town?
And all I was made from
Is scattered all around
And out on the sidewalk
I'm hoping for solid ground
It's a funny thing
'Cause I don't know