John Fullbright is a genius

There is a young guy with an old soul from Oklahoma who I’ve been fortunate enough to catch several times in concert. On Saturday I literally sat 4 feet from John Fullbright as he played this song.  I heard it for the first time this summer and found it beautiful, but since Saturday it has somehow slipped into my DNA. I can’t stop listening to it. Not kidding, I’ve heard it at least 30 times since Saturday. #obsessed


And because I’m obsessed, I transcribed the lyrics. You are welcome. 

When You’re Here by John Fullbright

Ever changing 
Ever moving 
Ever finding 
Ever losing 
Every moment of our choosing bears a cost.
As for lonely I can show you how to live a life alone
All it takes is getting used to getting lost.
Some are lovers 
Some are leeches 
Some are flings on sandy beaches 
Some are silent ’til the chances are all gone.
The queen of hearts dreams a lover
From that cold, cold king above her
While the joker makes his bed up all alone.
But don’t I feel like something when you’re here?
Don’t I feel my lungs losing air?
Don’t I feel like I can show you 
I’m the one you can go to 
When you need another heartbeat near?
Don’t I feel like something when you’re here?

And in my heart stands a scarecrow
If he’s hurt he doesn’t say so
And he chases everything he loves away
But at night when it’s colder
There’s a bluebird on his shoulder
And he whispers that he’ll hold her one bright day.

But don’t I feel like something when you’re here?
Don’t I feel my lungs losing air?
Don’t I feel like I can show you 
I’m the one you can go to 
When you need another heartbeat near?
Don’t I feel like something when you’re here? 


If you need me tonight I’ll be curled under my Christmas tree weeping myself to sleep. 

Me and the music

One evening 7 months ago I sat across the table from David and KC, poked at an Irma’s burger and tried to keep it together. We would talk about things unrelated to the heartbreak I was swimming in but with any pause in conversation I would slip right back under the surface into the depths of hopelessness. Like it was yesterday, I remember my head and shoulders folding forward and I asked them through the shudders of tears, “What am I going to do about the music?” 

Confession time: I’m not well-educated about music. It’s embarrassing. The previous 2 1/2 years with a fellow music addict was an incredible gift and I was exposed to so much music. I was and am still quite grateful for that gift. But in the glow of the Irma’s neon I asked my question because I knew the musicians would understand the question reached far beyond a hard drive of songs. It was about the sharing. The discovering. The magic that pulses between the notes. What am I going to do about the music?

It turns out I didn’t have to do anything. 

The music found me just fine without any intermediary, which is an even better way to get it. I’ve befriended bands, shaken the hands of artist and poets and learned a few things on my instruments. I’ve traveled a few highways and found my own damn treasures. The Universe keeps sending me signs and people and experiences and it’s enthralling. 

But I also do the work.

I very sheepishly confessed a fun fact last Sunday morning. I was giving a first-time listen to Abbey Road and the White Album. Yes, like….first time ever listen beginning to end. What I further explained is that I am giving the entire Beatles catalog my undivided attention right now, because I never have.

That’s a shame.

And we are anti-shame nowadays.

So far I’ve listened through Rubber Soul, Revolver, White Album and Abbey Road. I don’t have a favorite yet. I’ve probably only gotten through each of them 6 or so times, which isn’t enough. Because…GAH. The Beatles are really good. I won’t bore you with a break down of what I love most because I know squat about the technicalities of music. It’s been a neat little gift of discovering a legendary band at the ripe old age of 37 and being able to appreciate it 10x more than I would have when I was 13 or whatever. 

Perhaps more fun than falling for Eleanor Rigby or Got to Get You into My Life (ok….maybe I am pretty fond of Revolver) was seeing my Facebook wall blow up TWICE with Beatlemania. 

The post with 57 comments thus far where grown men and women basically lose their shit and openly adore the Beatles. And think that I am lying about my ignorance. Nope guys, I’m from rural Oklahoma — ignorance is in my blood. 

The next day I mentioned a little Beatles feelings on a new post and twenty more comments happened.

Later that afternoon I got a text that said, “Check your car and have your mind blown.”

"Check your car and be prepared to have your mind blown." What happens when one of your friends gets irritated at people fawning over the Beatles.

He was a little irritated with all the Beatles fawning. Bowie Bonus. 

Then, for reasons unknown to me, I needed to listen to Phenomenal Handclap Band’s Above All Else (featuring Bart Davenport) on repeat this morning.

If I listened to it once I listened to it 20 times. So much so that I searched for lyrics and when none were found, I transcribed them. Welcome to my rabbit hole. This is why my laundry is never caught up and the novel in my head has never been written. Feel free to double check me. I’m not quite sure about the last line in the second verse. 

You’ve been through a lot these days 
I can tell by the look in your eyes
With the company that you keep
It’s really no surprise
And you’re sayin’ there’s an easier way
Than wearing yourself so thin
So if you’re ready to listen now the lesson will begin

A – Always say what you mean
B – Be something you can be proud of
C – Try to keep yourself clean
D – Don’t get no one else involved

All this time spent talkin’ about it
Would be better spent gettin’ it done
How long before you realize that you’re the one
Who can do almost anything
But learn some disciplne
So stop awhile sit in this style the lesson will begin

A – Always say what you mean
B – Be something you can be proud of
C – Try to keep yourself clean
D – Don’t get no one else involved

Me and the music are doing just fine. Rabbit holes and all.

There was a concert in my living room

A little while back I texted my friends and veteran house concert troubadours on their opinion of my house as an appropriate venue for hosting a show. Not their show….just a show. David thought I might be able to get 30 or so people in the space. 

I never did anything with that information. It was just another one of my Beautiful Ideas

Maybe a week later he asked me if I’d like to host a house concert? A lovely woman by the name of Marian Call was embarking upon a tour across the states. She and David had talked about getting together for a show for a while but it never seemed to work out. I think. Maybe that’s the story? It’s the new truth because it’s late and god-so-help-me, I just want to get this story told. So I can tell all the other ones waiting in the wings. 

My answer was yes. Actually, since we’re making up stuff around here, I was all, “Oh hell yesss, muthafucka!”

Profanity aside, I truly was excited to have them play here. I am a fan of David’s band, Dr. Pants, and to have that glory happening under my roof seemed like a no-brainer. I had never heard of Marian Call, but I trust his judgement.

Bryan, Marian’s guitarist for this leg of her tour, had flown in Saturday night and Sunday morning I scooted to his hotel to pick him up. Later in the afternoon, we three moved sofas, unfolded chairs and ::boom:: a venue was born.

So...this is happening.

 FYI to any indie folk artist who are looking for a place to have a house concert in Oklahoma City, my house seems as if it could hold 45 or so people. The final count for Sunday was right around 30, so things didn’t get crazy. In fact, things only got cooler as the evening wore on. 

 Right when they were supposed to, people arrived and they all had their proper donations. Some even had extra and I think the bands  had a successful night in Casa de Sheri. I had a successful night, too, as a friend from Texas brought up a case of bottled Fat Tire each for David and I. As I cleaned up after the show I proudly tossed vegetables from my crisper drawer to make room for all those lovely bottles. 

I don’t remember a whole lot of detail from the show. There were a lot of friends in the room, which was a perfectly acceptable distraction in my book, plus I was knee deep in Fat Tire and whatnot. Sitting here tonight, I can think of ways to improve for next time as a person who wants to be writing about these many adventures upon which she embarks. Perhaps I’ll keep a camera with me? Or….I don’t know….take photos of all these lovely friends who attended? Next time. Next time I will be more present and less flittery. The times lately that I’ve most enjoyed the magic of live music, I’ve been writing words in my head as I’m listening and watching. All systems are go and I’m taking note as to not forget.  

One memory did surface, and it’s one I experience more often and more deeply as I become better friends with David and his wife K.C. I get a little weepy or get chills at least once during the evening, whether it be a Dr. Pants set or a K.C. Clifford set. To see people I love do the work they love makes my heart swell and makes me want to be a more open and vulnerable person. This is how music makes me better. I watch their vulnerability and it gives me joy and strength, even when it involves throwing donuts to a captive audience. You know what…. ESPECIALLY when it involves throwing donuts into a captive audience. 







Marian was delightful! She sings a lot about nerdy / geeky things, but then just funny / cool life observations, too. And she uses a vintage typewriter as a percussion instrument. Correction, she brilliantly uses a vintage typewriter as a percussion instrument.

And she handed out props for songs…

And Dr. Pants did what Dr. Pants does…

And it was glorious.

A big, huge thank you to David Broyles, K.C. Clifford, Marian Call and Bryan Ray for being so lovely to the newbie and for helping make a wonderful house concert happen. All I did was provide a venue and place for two musicians to sleep. They did all the magic and I’m, once again, grateful for the daily miracles. Sunday had miracles stacked to the rafters. <3

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