As I said before, English tends to be good for describing things, for nuance, for multiple meanings, puns, plays on words. It is also about what is not said.
I mentioned in my last post that as my musical knowledge grew, I became more interested in the purely musical aspect of songs, rather than the lyrics. I have since come back full circle from that one a bit, and while I can indulge that motive while writing in Spanish or Portuguese, I have come to realize the beauty and elusive skill that it takes to write good lyrics in English. Firstly, the 'stuff' of life is always in the drama. Drama always happens in conflict, which can happen within one person, but usually happens between two people. A lot of that drama is dialogue and action. (And yes, sometimes, lack thereof). Since I began to incorporate these elements into my lyrics, a whole new world opened up for me. Before then, I wrote a lot of feelings with a lot of imagery. But who cares about those things, besides the person feeling them? Feelings are perishable. They are reactions of actions. On their own, they are superfluous, flowery emotional splooges that mean nothing. But within the structure of action and dialogue, they can add subtlety, color, mood, analogies, and more detail.
If I rant on in a song about how I feel about you, what do I not give you a chance to do? I do not give you a chance to speak!
This is a very undemocratic process.
These are the first two songs to which I came to these profound lyrical observations.
To listen, paste the link- http://www.myspace.com/mayasolovey
DREAMGIRLS
You say, "I can be loyal, but not faithful"
I say "Fine, but I will return the favor"
"Our love is just too big for two people"
"Fine. Go after that dream you've been seeking."
Its the dreamgirls that you like best
The ones that never let you rest
You run and run, but you don't find
They live only inside your mind.
I've been alone in far away places
But the loneliest I've been is with you
We are strangers to each other
Living with ghosts
And shadows of our lover
I try to leave, but I just can't go
These chains I carry them alone
It breaks my heart to
Love you
But what else can I do.
You say I choose to feel this way
I say "who would choose this"
You hold on to your dreams
Longer than you do people
It's the dreamgirls that you like best
The ones that never let you rest
You run and run, but you don't find
They live only inside your mind
I try to leave, but I just can't go
These chains I carry them alone
It breaks my heart to
Be with you
But what else can I do.
It breaks my heart to
Love you
But what else can I do.
©2008 Maya Solovéy
HEARTACHE BLUES
I will
Put a song on the phonograph
Stay a while, we’ll have a laugh
And drink a glass of wine or two
You’ll take a step on through the door
Say, “I wish I’d call you more”
I smile and say,
“Then baby, why don’t you”
Don’t play it like a fool
You know just what you do
You’re playing heartache blues.
You say,
“Hope you don’t think I’ve been cold
Baby you look so beautiful
I missed you so much, I forgot”
Funny, I did not miss you at all
Never thought about when you’d call
I never bought
The cologne that you wear
No baby, I don’t care
Just like I do not breathe air
There are my heartache blues.
So baby why don’t you
Just let me think it’s true
Cause if I can’t have you
Then play me like a fool
We’ll both know what we do
Heartache Blues.
©2008 Maya Solovéy
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The Latin side of Words.
To me, writing in other languages like Spanish and Portuguese, allows me to explore many different things musically. When I first began writing songs at the age of 15, they were extremely lyrical- more like musical poems if you will, since my backround was in poetry. As my musical breadth grew, I came to a place where it was not the lyrics that were my primary focus, but the music. That is why, when writing in Portuguese, I can focus more on the actual sounds, or music of the words, rather than be completely consumed with their meaning. (The meaning is of course, always important as well, but in this case, takes second rank). It can take more of a sparse, imagery driven poetic sense, without an epic story having to carry the load. Take for instance, the song "A Escultura" ("The Sculpture")
A ESCULTURA (Portugues)
Pegue a minha mao
Andamos atraves
Das estrellas de ouro
Escuridao gritando
Quando as maos
Esculpem o mundo.
Nada se escapa
Da boca do tempo
Nem o silencio
Escondido abaixo
Quando o coracao
Esculpe o mundo.
Devi Bhavani Ma Kali Bhavani Ma
Jaya Ma Jaya Jaya Ma Devi Bhavani Ma
As maos esculpem o mundo
O coracao esculpe o mundo.
A ESCULTURA (The Sculpture)
Take my hand
We’ll walk across
Stars of gold
Darkness screaming
While our hands
Sculpt the world.
Nothing escapes
the mouth of time
Or the silence
Hidden underneath
While our heart
Sculpts the world.
*Divine mother, Mother of the worlds
Destroyer of illusion, unutterable silent recognition.* (*Sanskrit Mantra*)
©2006 MayaSolovéy
to listen via myspace, click http://www.myspace.com/mayasolovey2
Here, a few images coupled with some prose is enough to give meaning to the song, but the real crux of it all, to me, is the sounds the words make.
The Latin languages in general hold an entirely different mindset and perspective than English. Different things work or don't work, depending on their lingual and cultural context. For instance, take this song, "Como Yo Lloro Po Ti" ("Like I Cry for You").
COMO YO LLORO POR TI
Pajaros no cantan
Como te amo
El sol no brilla
Como te amo
Y la noche no se calle
Como yo lloro por ti.
Montañas no se mantienen
Como te amo
Olas no se mueven
Como te amo
Y el silencio
No se calle
Como yo lloro por ti.
Otro mundo me llama
Pero no puedo oir
Otro tiempo me llama
Pero no puedo recordar...
La única vida que conozco
Es en la que te amo
La única agua que mata mi sed
Es el agua de mis lágrimas
Porque la única vida
Que conozco
Es en la que te amo
Es en la que te amo.
©2006 Maya Solovéy
COMO YO LLORO POR TI (Like I Cry for You)
Birds don’t sing
Like I love you
The sun doesn’t shine
Like I love you
And night does not fall
Like I cry for you.
Mountains don’t stand
Like I love you
Waves don’t move
Like I love you
And silence does not fall
Like I cry for you.
Another world calls me
But I cannot hear
Another time calls me
But I cannot remember.
The only life that I know
Is that in which I love you
The only water that quenches my thirst
Is the water of my tears
Because the only life that I know
Is that in which
I love you.
©2006 Maya Solovéy
to listen via myspace, click http://www.myspace.com/mayasolovey2
One can't really get away with lyrics like this in English. It sounds entirely melodramatic. But in the Spanish languge, literature, poetry and songs have been written in this vein for centuries. It's part of the cultural context, and it's also kind of just how the language works sometimes. English tends to be good for describing things, for nuance, for multiple meanings, puns, plays on words. The Latin languages tend to be more about emotion. They even have a different grammar called the Subjunctive for such things, as well as for things like the unknown possibility of something, would haves and could haves, and others.
A ESCULTURA (Portugues)
Pegue a minha mao
Andamos atraves
Das estrellas de ouro
Escuridao gritando
Quando as maos
Esculpem o mundo.
Nada se escapa
Da boca do tempo
Nem o silencio
Escondido abaixo
Quando o coracao
Esculpe o mundo.
Devi Bhavani Ma Kali Bhavani Ma
Jaya Ma Jaya Jaya Ma Devi Bhavani Ma
As maos esculpem o mundo
O coracao esculpe o mundo.
A ESCULTURA (The Sculpture)
Take my hand
We’ll walk across
Stars of gold
Darkness screaming
While our hands
Sculpt the world.
Nothing escapes
the mouth of time
Or the silence
Hidden underneath
While our heart
Sculpts the world.
*Divine mother, Mother of the worlds
Destroyer of illusion, unutterable silent recognition.* (*Sanskrit Mantra*)
©2006 MayaSolovéy
to listen via myspace, click http://www.myspace.com/mayasolovey2
Here, a few images coupled with some prose is enough to give meaning to the song, but the real crux of it all, to me, is the sounds the words make.
The Latin languages in general hold an entirely different mindset and perspective than English. Different things work or don't work, depending on their lingual and cultural context. For instance, take this song, "Como Yo Lloro Po Ti" ("Like I Cry for You").
COMO YO LLORO POR TI
Pajaros no cantan
Como te amo
El sol no brilla
Como te amo
Y la noche no se calle
Como yo lloro por ti.
Montañas no se mantienen
Como te amo
Olas no se mueven
Como te amo
Y el silencio
No se calle
Como yo lloro por ti.
Otro mundo me llama
Pero no puedo oir
Otro tiempo me llama
Pero no puedo recordar...
La única vida que conozco
Es en la que te amo
La única agua que mata mi sed
Es el agua de mis lágrimas
Porque la única vida
Que conozco
Es en la que te amo
Es en la que te amo.
©2006 Maya Solovéy
COMO YO LLORO POR TI (Like I Cry for You)
Birds don’t sing
Like I love you
The sun doesn’t shine
Like I love you
And night does not fall
Like I cry for you.
Mountains don’t stand
Like I love you
Waves don’t move
Like I love you
And silence does not fall
Like I cry for you.
Another world calls me
But I cannot hear
Another time calls me
But I cannot remember.
The only life that I know
Is that in which I love you
The only water that quenches my thirst
Is the water of my tears
Because the only life that I know
Is that in which
I love you.
©2006 Maya Solovéy
to listen via myspace, click http://www.myspace.com/mayasolovey2
One can't really get away with lyrics like this in English. It sounds entirely melodramatic. But in the Spanish languge, literature, poetry and songs have been written in this vein for centuries. It's part of the cultural context, and it's also kind of just how the language works sometimes. English tends to be good for describing things, for nuance, for multiple meanings, puns, plays on words. The Latin languages tend to be more about emotion. They even have a different grammar called the Subjunctive for such things, as well as for things like the unknown possibility of something, would haves and could haves, and others.
An Introduction.
So here I am, little miss Maya Solovéy, a fairly private person in a world where everyone in the arts/entertainment must be very public, at least about their private life. "Everyone must have a blog" it is said. Though I have obviously never blogged before, we all must have our brave moments, and pour our little hearts out into the great endless sea of cyberspace, not knowing, (and perhaps not caring) what befalls them.
But since I am a musician, (a singer-songwriter to be exact) here is a little bit about me, and where I stand musically. Firstly, I write songs in three languages- English, Spanish, and Portuguese. Where am I from? Oddly enough, I was born in Philly, and raised in the little wooden hamlets of Western Massachusetts. Now this is a little nugget of constant confusion. Why, (and how for that matter) would a girl from New England write songs in languages that are not her own. "Are you of Latin birth or heritage?" I am often asked. Wrong again- I am Jewish, of Eastern European decent. Nobody seems to get it. Perhaps I don't even get it. But nonetheless, here's how the story goes.
We were always a well traveled family. That goes without saying. By the time I was 20, I had been to well over 20 countries in most of the continents, some of which when I was younger with my family, some living or travelling on my own. In high school, I had a very strong desire to learn Spanish. So the obvious thing to do was to find a way to live in aSpanish speaking country. I found schools and host family programs, and made my way to Ecuador, then Spain. By my sophomore year of high school, I had already bought a $100 guitar, locked myself in my room for 6 hours, taught myself two chords, and began writing songs. I was writing while living in these countries, but certainly not inSpanish. In fact, I never wrote a tune in Spanish until 3 years ago, 4 years after I had left Spain.
But really, the reason I began writing songs in Spanish at all was not to just have songs in Spanish. It was because I began hearing songs in my head in Portuguese. A month prior, a jazz musician friend of mine, Bob Beldon, had given me a mix CD of João Gilberto and Astrud Gilberto. I listened to it religiously, completely entranced by these sounds of their words and music. It found its way into my very being, and I began hearing songs of my own with these strange sounds.
Now obviously I didn't speak Portuguese. This was a mere detail in my mind. I wrote what I was hearing in Spanish, for some songs as a temporary place holder, knowing that as soon as I could, I would translate many of these into Portuguese. I started going Brazilian dancing every week. I befriended many Brazilian musicians. I found a school way downtown, biked my little self down there twice a week, and studied arduously. I heard a someone was going to be teaching percussion in Bahia, and I booked a ticket immediately.
While in Brazil, at first I was travelling with some jazz musician friends of mine, namely Sergio Brandão, and Richard Bona and his band, while they were touring around Rio de Janeiro. After a few weeks of that, I head out on my own, to the north of Brazil- Bahia.
My first night in Salvador, Bahia, it was pouring. I went to a street where I had read there was a hostel, and there was none. There was ahippyish looking man, who told me the hostel had closed. But he said that he was "staying" in this other closed down hostel next door, and that I could stay there too. So I squatted there with him, until he got expelled from hisCapoeira School a few days later, and peaced out of Bahia and this little abandoned hostel that I had begun to make home. It was not the nicest home, nor the cleanest, nor the safest, but it was home nonetheless. It had not been used in years. Everything was dirty. Not much worked. I found an old shower that somehow, by the grace of god, shed a little cold water now and then. People came in, they made conversation, they stole things. They stole almost everything I had. They still wanted to hang out, grab a beer, and chat. Then they stole more. The only thing they didn't steal was the most important thing to me- a 7-string classical guitar that I had found collecting dust in the back corner of a used guitar shop in Riode Janeiro.
My commitment was strong, if even perhaps a little too much. My family and friends back home were worried about me. Believe me, I was scared too. It's much easier to die in Brazil than in the U.S. They wanted me to come home. I wouldn't. I felt there was something I needed to accomplish there. I studied percussion every day. I met a lady in the street that tutored me inPortuguese. I played the surdo (bass drum) and danced in street festivals and parades and spontaneous happenings. As much struggle, pain, fear, loneliness , and betrayal as there was, there was an equal measure of joy. My heart was filled with life, for the very grain and grit of humanity was all around me. People who had almost nothing would joyfully spend their last dollar on a beer and enjoy the soccer game. They didn't have many material things to bring them happiness, so they had to make it with each other- with a little food and drink, maybe a soccer ball, a couple instruments, and a song and dance.
It was only because of a family emergency that I left, to the relief of my friends and family. I came back very raw. But I had breathed the life of Brazil into my heart, and at the very least, I had learned Portuguese.
But since I am a musician, (a singer-songwriter to be exact) here is a little bit about me, and where I stand musically. Firstly, I write songs in three languages- English, Spanish, and Portuguese. Where am I from? Oddly enough, I was born in Philly, and raised in the little wooden hamlets of Western Massachusetts. Now this is a little nugget of constant confusion. Why, (and how for that matter) would a girl from New England write songs in languages that are not her own. "Are you of Latin birth or heritage?" I am often asked. Wrong again- I am Jewish, of Eastern European decent. Nobody seems to get it. Perhaps I don't even get it. But nonetheless, here's how the story goes.
We were always a well traveled family. That goes without saying. By the time I was 20, I had been to well over 20 countries in most of the continents, some of which when I was younger with my family, some living or travelling on my own. In high school, I had a very strong desire to learn Spanish. So the obvious thing to do was to find a way to live in aSpanish speaking country. I found schools and host family programs, and made my way to Ecuador, then Spain. By my sophomore year of high school, I had already bought a $100 guitar, locked myself in my room for 6 hours, taught myself two chords, and began writing songs. I was writing while living in these countries, but certainly not inSpanish. In fact, I never wrote a tune in Spanish until 3 years ago, 4 years after I had left Spain.
But really, the reason I began writing songs in Spanish at all was not to just have songs in Spanish. It was because I began hearing songs in my head in Portuguese. A month prior, a jazz musician friend of mine, Bob Beldon, had given me a mix CD of João Gilberto and Astrud Gilberto. I listened to it religiously, completely entranced by these sounds of their words and music. It found its way into my very being, and I began hearing songs of my own with these strange sounds.
Now obviously I didn't speak Portuguese. This was a mere detail in my mind. I wrote what I was hearing in Spanish, for some songs as a temporary place holder, knowing that as soon as I could, I would translate many of these into Portuguese. I started going Brazilian dancing every week. I befriended many Brazilian musicians. I found a school way downtown, biked my little self down there twice a week, and studied arduously. I heard a someone was going to be teaching percussion in Bahia, and I booked a ticket immediately.
While in Brazil, at first I was travelling with some jazz musician friends of mine, namely Sergio Brandão, and Richard Bona and his band, while they were touring around Rio de Janeiro. After a few weeks of that, I head out on my own, to the north of Brazil- Bahia.
My first night in Salvador, Bahia, it was pouring. I went to a street where I had read there was a hostel, and there was none. There was ahippyish looking man, who told me the hostel had closed. But he said that he was "staying" in this other closed down hostel next door, and that I could stay there too. So I squatted there with him, until he got expelled from hisCapoeira School a few days later, and peaced out of Bahia and this little abandoned hostel that I had begun to make home. It was not the nicest home, nor the cleanest, nor the safest, but it was home nonetheless. It had not been used in years. Everything was dirty. Not much worked. I found an old shower that somehow, by the grace of god, shed a little cold water now and then. People came in, they made conversation, they stole things. They stole almost everything I had. They still wanted to hang out, grab a beer, and chat. Then they stole more. The only thing they didn't steal was the most important thing to me- a 7-string classical guitar that I had found collecting dust in the back corner of a used guitar shop in Riode Janeiro.
My commitment was strong, if even perhaps a little too much. My family and friends back home were worried about me. Believe me, I was scared too. It's much easier to die in Brazil than in the U.S. They wanted me to come home. I wouldn't. I felt there was something I needed to accomplish there. I studied percussion every day. I met a lady in the street that tutored me inPortuguese. I played the surdo (bass drum) and danced in street festivals and parades and spontaneous happenings. As much struggle, pain, fear, loneliness , and betrayal as there was, there was an equal measure of joy. My heart was filled with life, for the very grain and grit of humanity was all around me. People who had almost nothing would joyfully spend their last dollar on a beer and enjoy the soccer game. They didn't have many material things to bring them happiness, so they had to make it with each other- with a little food and drink, maybe a soccer ball, a couple instruments, and a song and dance.
It was only because of a family emergency that I left, to the relief of my friends and family. I came back very raw. But I had breathed the life of Brazil into my heart, and at the very least, I had learned Portuguese.
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