Their voices intertwined. Woven. Seamless. Like all great loves, we can’t tell where one begins and the other ends, as they blend over and over again, end over end as we wait for their return. This inspired a piece I wrote, enraptured - like some locomotive of roses where we are but fireflies in a hurricane. V
This is the full piece and it was written swaddled in the endless loop of their voices - no title but perhaps “fireflies in a hurricane” Their voices intertwined. Flaxen weaves of woven sonic softness. Their voices intertwined. Woven. Weaving dreams it seems. Seamless. Like all great loves, we can never tell where one begins and the other ends, as they blend over and over again, end over end, leaving as we wait for their return. It’s seven am on a spring morning and I am swaddled, cuddling my rapture of ardor captured by these ancient sanctified wings of sound. One of the most beautiful voices in the entire history of rock fused to one of the most haunting voices of grace of Americana in a way he never quite was when they lived together. People talk about great harmonies. Harmonic convergence. Harmony is the return state we struggle and swim to come back to, swimming through swarming waves of chaos and returning solitudes and echoing loneliness through dispiriting stages of despair, only to break the surface every time to gasp and grasp, only to go back to climbing stairs to some unknown final nowhere. The Everly Brothers. CS&N, Simon and Garfunkle and Tavener choruses. None show what we know when a flock of angels whisper-sings these shy lullabies to us as we die away. I imagined this life and I’ll imagine my death as I imagine this very breath. Our minds fire find in kind. We are but fireflies in a hurricane. I used to always think I’d go out stepping in front of a locomotive of roses but why not go out in gossamer waves of harmonious beauty? Reverberating in every intense vibration until we return to stardust. I’m quite sure beauty awaits our individual returns. We never truly left Her. Alone I shall lay in silken sheets, timeless, excellent and fair. Eyes closed but wide awake in visions, breathing in sweet burning elegant fragrances of honeysuckle and golden roses, circled around my bed like some prayer circle of ambergris and this broken hymn on my headphones, in an endless sanctified cyclical hymn of loss and return as I don’t wait on my return anymore but simply return. I will lift. I will drift. I shall ascend. I do. I take this life in eternally wedded bliss to every thing I’ve ever missed. I’m in tears again just at this moment of the world - how can’t you be when confronted with a moment of wholly holy human beauty which only heaven knows of until we go? An unlocked locket of my mother’s hair - that I very gently clipped seconds after she flew into the universe not taking me with her - not yet - her silken red hair my only thread to the eternal. My mother’s fishing line dancing in the well of souls. And you know when Robert Plant and Patty Griffin laid in bed occasionally in their shared home, they must have sometimes simply started singing in harmony from living in harmony and realize - recognize and marvel startled: this sound was what was keeping the stars apart.
"Highway Song" Stars fall out Of the sky, my love One by one As the years go by And one by one All the ghosts in the night Whisper my name And fly away I don’t wait for their return I don’t wait for their return Across the miles A golden flood Reaching far Into the night In the dust of every Highway song I whisper your name And fly away I will wait for your return I will wait for your return I will wait for your return I will wait for your return
To my ear, this is just mediocre music: undistinguished lyrics, melodically-challenged in the extreme. Do you hear "Ohio" in here? 'cause I sure do. Try to imagine this a capella and you'll see my point. Sorry, bad music, period.
Compared to the rest of Patty Griffin's repertoire, this just might be mediocre: but compared to what passes as "music" these days, "Highway Song" is a fantastic piece. You should get your hearing, your taste, and your cognitive abilities checked.
@@heatherbrantley2359 My crytique of the song cites mundane lyrics and the "musical" inadequacies of a repetitious doh/re/mi triad which is downright juvenile, musically. I'm a musician and composer. And your analysis, musically, is ... to slag me, personally. My, my.
@Brent Rheault Whoa! A musician and composer, you say? Well, thank you, Her Ludwig von Beethoven! Being both a musician and a composer, does not make you an expert music critic. You sound ridiculous with that high and mighty, arrogant way in which you school us fools here on CZcams. Wooo! I cannot stop laughing! What is WRONG with you?
![Patty Griffin - Ohio ft. Robert Plant [Official Music Video]](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/uMswPuc2QyQ/mqdefault.jpg)
![Patty Griffin - Ohio ft. Robert Plant [Official Music Video]](/img/tr.png)
Gorgeous song. Patty is such a special talent. Thank you Patty for blessing us with your musical gifts. Magic ...
Their voices intertwined.
Woven.
Seamless.
Like all great loves, we can’t tell where one begins and the other ends, as they blend over and over again, end over end as we wait for their return. This inspired a piece I wrote, enraptured - like some locomotive of roses where we are but fireflies in a hurricane. V
Is your piece called “enraptured”
I loved the words you wrote here…
This is the full piece and it was written swaddled in the endless loop of their voices - no title but perhaps “fireflies in a hurricane”
Their voices intertwined. Flaxen weaves of woven sonic softness.
Their voices intertwined.
Woven. Weaving dreams it seems.
Seamless.
Like all great loves, we can never tell where one begins and the other ends, as they blend over and over again, end over end, leaving as we wait for their return.
It’s seven am on a spring morning and I am swaddled, cuddling my rapture of ardor captured by these ancient sanctified wings of sound.
One of the most beautiful voices in the entire history of rock fused to one of the most haunting voices of grace of Americana in a way he never quite was when they lived together.
People talk about great harmonies. Harmonic convergence.
Harmony is the return state we struggle and swim to come back to, swimming through swarming waves of chaos and returning solitudes and echoing loneliness through dispiriting stages of despair, only to break the surface every time to gasp and grasp, only to go back to climbing stairs to some unknown final nowhere.
The Everly Brothers. CS&N, Simon and Garfunkle and Tavener choruses.
None show what we know when a flock of angels whisper-sings these shy lullabies to us as we die away.
I imagined this life and I’ll imagine my death as I imagine this very breath.
Our minds fire find in kind.
We are but fireflies in a hurricane.
I used to always think I’d go out stepping in front of a locomotive of roses but why not go out in gossamer waves of harmonious beauty?
Reverberating in every intense vibration until we return to stardust.
I’m quite sure beauty awaits our individual returns.
We never truly left Her.
Alone I shall lay in silken sheets, timeless, excellent and fair.
Eyes closed but wide awake in visions, breathing in sweet burning elegant fragrances of honeysuckle and golden roses, circled around my bed like some prayer circle of ambergris and this broken hymn on my headphones, in an endless sanctified cyclical hymn of loss and return as I don’t wait on my return anymore but simply return.
I will lift.
I will drift.
I shall ascend.
I do.
I take this life in eternally wedded bliss to every thing I’ve ever missed.
I’m in tears again just at this moment of the world - how can’t you be when confronted with a moment of wholly holy human beauty which only heaven knows of until we go?
An unlocked locket of my mother’s hair - that I very gently clipped seconds after she flew into the universe not taking me with her - not yet - her silken red hair my only thread to the eternal.
My mother’s fishing line dancing in the well of souls.
And you know when Robert Plant and Patty Griffin laid in bed occasionally in their shared home, they must have sometimes simply started singing in harmony from living in harmony and realize - recognize and marvel startled: this sound was what was keeping the stars apart.
"Highway Song"
Stars fall out
Of the sky, my love
One by one
As the years go by
And one by one
All the ghosts in the night
Whisper my name
And fly away
I don’t wait for their return
I don’t wait for their return
Across the miles
A golden flood
Reaching far
Into the night
In the dust of every
Highway song
I whisper your name
And fly away
I will wait for your return
I will wait for your return
I will wait for your return
I will wait for your return
A wonderful, moving song.. amazing emotions, feelings, sounds, for all that I love music.
Hauntingly beautiful!
Absolutely beautiful, Patty.
Absolutely cathartic
Beautiful melody and the harmony........oh my!
GORGEOUS! In it's simplicity and elegance... voice, harmony and guitar. What more do we really need? "Fly away... I will wait for your touch..."
What is the instrument that comes in later? Sounds like accordion / organ. such a beautiful song...
masters at work.
absolutely beautiful. thanks for sharing. can't wait for this album!!!
Brent, your ear is completely broken!
This song is so lovely...especially the interlude.
So. You have Patty Griffin's heart. And you manage to fuck it up and lose it. Makes you wonder ......
Wow!
Thanks for letting Robert Plant camp on your lyrics.
Wait...isn't this the name of a Greta Van Fleet song? Who's Highway Song came first?
Well this is better than the duet he did with Tori Amos - which was awful.
To my ear, this is just mediocre music: undistinguished lyrics, melodically-challenged in the extreme. Do you hear "Ohio" in here? 'cause I sure do. Try to imagine this a capella and you'll see my point. Sorry, bad music, period.
Compared to the rest of Patty Griffin's repertoire, this just might be mediocre: but compared to what passes as "music" these days, "Highway Song" is a fantastic piece. You should get your hearing, your taste, and your cognitive abilities checked.
Are you a music professional or just someone that thinks they know everything about everything?
@@heatherbrantley2359 My crytique of the song cites mundane lyrics and the "musical" inadequacies of a repetitious doh/re/mi triad which is downright juvenile, musically. I'm a musician and composer. And your analysis, musically, is ... to slag me, personally. My, my.
@Brent Rheault Whoa! A musician and composer, you say? Well, thank you, Her Ludwig von Beethoven! Being both a musician and a composer, does not make you an expert music critic. You sound ridiculous with that high and mighty, arrogant way in which you school us fools here on CZcams. Wooo! I cannot stop laughing! What is WRONG with you?