Sunday, October 29, 2023

Love Song to the Plains -- song annotation

 Figment's album, informally known as "Love Song to the Plains" -- song descriptions:

Kathy's Song -- for my wife, of course, who has taught me so much, including the joy of sitting quietly in bliss with love. This song was also inspired by her art -- beautiful landscape pastels that are mesmerizing. Music, Art, and Nature with a loved one -- nothing is better. Lots of metaphors for me in this one.

Buffalo Prayer -- written in the 1990s when I was studying indigenous Americans' history in depth for the first time. It registered at a very deep level what the "white man" had done to the Great Plains: destroyed a vast and rich ecosystem for the sake of greed -- possession and control.

Hymn to a Ghost Town -- I grew up in a small town in western Kansas and found it nearly bereft of anything positive that I could latch onto. But I was not alone and many friends died in tragic ways, often from some form of addiction. This song was motivated by that, but also by the realization that people who die premature deaths in this way are just as precious as anyone else.

Dust Devils -- Obvious inspiration from indigenous cultures, but I think Johnny Cash is an influence here, as well. Heavily metaphorical and a sort of love song to the Great Plains.

Dust Down a Country Road -- I've loved this song by John Hiatt since it came out. I've been playing it ever since and had to record my version of it. Humans and Memory -- it fills the juke boxes -- and internet playlists.

Touch the Heart -- studying history is nightmare inducing -- this was written before I had the outlet of history lecturing, but I'm constantly reminded of the chaos and corruption aspects of existence that we move in -- and yet, we must remember that we can all rally around the focal point of Love in each one of us.

Les Voyageurs (Ritornelle) -- par Jean-Philippe Rameau -- a favorite piece by a favorite composer. I've been reading about the French-Canadian Voyageurs in my historian life. They were prolific in western North America -- this is a recognition of their independent and freedom-loving ways. Baroque music on first mandolin family instruments, then with five (count 'em), five (Taylor) twelve-string guitars (sixty strings!).

Buffalo Jump -- originally composed when I was in a music composition program at University, I had the pleasure of having this performed for our guest composer, John Corigliano. Logan Skelton, pianist at the University of Michigan now, helped keep this alive with a (non-commercial) live recording. The inspiration, again, was indigenous culture, particular the Arapaho people of the High Plains.



Wednesday, August 9, 2023

Student "Loans": A Subjective Experience

This is the short version of this story:

I started college in January of 1990 at the age of 32. I was a little over a year in recovery, having damn near drank myself to death running an itinerant construction crew that ran a route from Arkansas to Wyoming. Fortunately, I had bought forty acres in the Arkansas Ozarks adjoining the newly-created Buffalo National River federal park. That had become my refuge and first place of healing after seventeen years of self-medication and fleeing inner realities -- which is another story told elsewhere. In January of 1990, I took out my first student loan to attend College of the Ozarks, a conservative private school established by the Presbyterians across the White River from Branson, MO. 

I had no idea how I would fare in college, or what I would do. I just knew what I didn't want to do: work construction. I assuredly qualified for social work counseling as I had lived on the fringes of society for ten years at that point. I got none from the college or student loan people, so I was on my own except for my recovery groups, upon whom I leaned heavily. 

This story of this turn is extensive, but regarding the loans, I had been injured in a fall at work and my income was down, allowing me to qualify for student aid (Stafford Loans and Pell Grants). I had no savings, other than my forty acres, and while gassing up the truck at a Rapid Roberts (AKA "Fast Bob's") Convenience Store in Hollister, MO, I talked to the clerk about going to college. He said something like, "Oh, just get the loans and grants and go full-time. Throw yourself into it." I was so utterly burned out on my job, I decided to go for it. I got high scores on my ACT, and entered college in the spring semester of 1990. 

Once begun, it had to be seen through. I was clean and sober and my new addiction was college. I couldn't get enough of it -- I was like a sponge. After being refused enrollment after three semesters because of the length of my hair, AND receiving the Valedictorian Award, I transferred to Southwest Missouri State University, now Missouri State U. in Springfield. After dabbling in diverse potentialities, I settled in as a History and Music double major, graduating in 1995 with a BA and 199 credit hours. As I say, a functional advisor would have whittled that number down, but I have never had any regrets about it. 

I knew I didn't want to pursue an academic music career -- didn't fit in -- too late of a start -- so I started grad school in the Folklore Department at Memorial University of Newfoundland, who had offered me a job and money to attend. After one semester of intense personal growth at MUN and St. John's, I decided to focus on history while performing music at coffeeshops, pubs, festivals, etc. I came back to Kansas, where I had grown up, first attending Fort Hays State University while helping my dad, whose health was beginning to fail, then moving on to Wichita State University for my MA. All of this was supported in large part by loans, grants, working as a TA or paid internships as well as playing music. At Wichita, I formed a Celtic music band that caught the "Riverdance" wave and became regionally successful over the next fifteen years. So I was a rare bird that was able to support my history studies through playing music, at least in large part. I also met my wife, Kathleen, who played a huge role in helping support the now joint endeavor.

I got my MA in history and entered the University of Kansas in 2000 to study with the eminent Donald Worster -- another growth experience. It was a circle of hell. I taught at KU, then Washburn, then at Johnson County Community College -- all three at once for awhile. By 2002, I had maxed out the student loan game at $135,000. The thing is, if you want a career in history, you need a doctoral degree. Again, there was no turning back. Fortunately, teaching and playing music along with my wife's income, we were able to get by. 

So the student loans stopped in 2002; I got my doctorate in 2008, but no full-time job was forthcoming. Actually, between my various teaching gigs, I HAD a full-time job, or rather, three part-time jobs, which is how this capitalist juggernaut rolls now. By 2012, I was teaching more than a full-time load, and by 2016, I routinely taught between eight and twelve classes per semester at three, sometimes four schools. 

The $135K I had borrowed, thanks to compound interest, was soon over $250K and by 2020 had broken $300K -- an unpayable debt. Bear in mind that my "adjunct" teaching (I prefer the more apropos term "contractor") was done at a pay less than half of what "full-timers" are paid, especially when you count benefits. And, incidentally, my CV is absolutely comparable to many full-timers in terms of publications and teaching experience. So, I believe the term for this situation is "wage theft," although it is "legal." 

I managed to tread water on the loans through various programs available to minimize what would have otherwise been an unsustainable monthly payment. I was advised by my student loan servicer to have my two loans consolidated under a federal servicer so that they could be discharged. (!!!!) Apparently, the Biden administration had enacted a plan whereby if you had student loans outstanding for over 240 months, they could be discharged as long as they were "federalized," i.e., not managed by a private company. So, I consolidated my loans with MOHELA and awaited news.

Then, one fine day after a deeply satisfying trip to the Colorado High Country, on August 7, 2023, I checked balance of my student loans on the government website. The number that had been hovering around $315,000 was now $0. I stared in disbelief. I printed the screen. I showed my wife -- all in a state of disbelief -- I couldn't grasp it. I still can't two days later. I'm writing this essay to try and "grok" the situation. I have always "known" at some level that the Great Benevolence would take care of this, but I didn't know how. Now, it is done. My life, which I thought over at the age of 30, has been brought back to the light of day. The student loan issue was the last step in that emergence. I am so grateful, I can't express it in words. But I'm trying.

So, what began as a somewhat desperate act to salvage my life has become a kind of self-actualization with a highly-rewarding "career." After fifteen years of itinerant construction work and utter burnout, severe alcoholism, and general crazy shit, my life turned around although with the cloud of student loans hanging over my head (but I kept the faith!). Two days ago, the cloud was lifted.

Sunday, July 30, 2023

Buffalo Prayer

Up on the High Road, above all this noise

From Texas to the Great North

Lives the song of the endless plains

And the great winds that always hold forth

Down in the cities, I've seen your broken dreams

Heard the grinding wheels of fear

But up on that road there's a high lonesome sound

And a dream in your heart you can hear:

Chorus

Bring back the buffalo 

On the Ghost Dancing winds of change

Hear the cries in the windswept skies and

With the gods ride the wide open range.


When I was a child running free and wild

I was one with the grass, wind, and sky

But something was missing, you could almost hear

I didn't what had happened or why

The buffalo fell to the white man's greed

Shot down in the hot summer sun

The song of the native, the song of the free

Was silenced by the buffalo gun

Chorus

The wind it blows, the dust rises up

The legacy of plunder is waste

And miles of fence around an empty house

Is a story of a desperate haste

The Indian and buffalo were taken away

So the white man could have all the land

To use and abuse and wash it away

To build up his mansions so grand

Chorus 2x

Figment's YouTube Topic Channel

As ever, we're flying by the seat of our pants. We know there are methodologies to which most adhere and, while we do sometimes adhere to these methodologies, we don't strictly abide by them except in survival situations. This is not that. Nevertheless, we are sharing a link to our music in the hopes of drawing interest to these songs we made at home with help from Harrison Lake at Off Trail Studios. We don't expect to make more than fifty cents in real American dollars off of this, but if we do, we'll take it -- maybe buy a stick of gum or something or, more likely, give it to the less fortunate. 

Distrokid and YouTube created a "topic" channel for us, because that's how they do it. We haven't yet figured out how to edit it although we know that surely there is a way. The real point of this blog entry is to connect Figment's blog with Figment's music because the blog has lyrics to Figment's songs. Go Figment, go! 

Thanks for your time -- feel free to provide feedback here, since you can't on the YouTube channel and we tried and failed (so far) to make comments possible. 

Peace and Love, Figment Zenguitar


Sunday, July 16, 2023

Dust Devils

 Across the High Prairie a young squire rode his bay

When an ominous storm rose up in the West.

Admiring his new vestments no heed did he pay

As he lumbered along on his unstated quest.

The clouds slid over the bright High Plains sun

Raven crowed a warning as overhead he flew

Faced into the wind, the buffalo did run

And the air became as still as a bobcat stalking food.

Hey hey heya hey hey hey heya

Hey hey heya hey hey hey heya

"Oh what is this little change in the breeze?"

He spoke as he labored his horse up the hill

Whistling he tried hard to sway his unease

As he forced the mares head down against her own will

A lightning bolt  cracked on a distant cottonwood tree

Thunder decried upon his hubris revenge

The first droplets brought forth the smell of the sea

And a spinning black cloud as round as Stonehenge.

Hey hey heya hey hey hey heya

Hey hey heya hey hey hey heya

The rider her trembled feeling like a young boy

Left alone in the Wilderness by his family to die

His mind flashed back to his so recent joy

But with his money and his frippery the storm he could not buy

Full force came the twister three hundred yards wide

He rode like the wind for his home in the dale

But the storm it bore down, there was nowhere to hide

And he caused his old mother for to moan and to wail.

Hey hey heya hey hey hey heya

Hey hey heya hey hey hey heya

Like General Custer he made his last stand

Bemoaning the trick on himself he had played

While the bones of the Indians spun 'round in the sand

O'er destiny's shoulders his body it was laid.

He'd been told of courage and of valor so true

Of glory in battle his high place in the world

But he had not been told when a storm was abrew

O'er the Indian prairie where the dust devils swirl.

Hey hey heya hey hey hey heya

Hey hey heya hey hey hey heya

Hey hey heya hey hey hey heya

Hey hey heya hey hey hey heya.

Saturday, July 15, 2023

Touch the Heart

I ran to the window, she ran to the door

Everyone was screamin', screamin' for more

Tyranny and misery, Abel and Cain

Attracting distractions, laying down the game.

So it's up to the treetops swayin' in the breeze

I seen our spirits . . . Seen our spirits . . . 

Seen our spirits . . . Seen our spirits . . . Seen our spirits . . .

Seen our spirits had wounded knees.


My people came from across the sea

Draggin' our tormented history

Runnin' from those age old bloody wars

Lickin' our wounds and hidin' our scars

We made up stories 'bout the promised land

While we killed the children . . . killed the children

Killed the children . . . Killed the children . . . Killed the children . . .

Killed the children in the new-found land


When I was a child I was told many lies

About our people who claimed to be wise

When I grew up they said, "Believe!"

And they told me to live in this trance of thieves.

Then I met a child who knew the truth

And he showed me the way . . . Showed me the way

Showed me the way . . . Showed me the way . . . Showed me the way . . .

Showed me the way to the Fountain of Youth.

So let me touch your spirit let me touch your soul

Let's touch the heart . . . Touch the Heart

Touch the Heart . . . Touch the Heart . . . Touch the Heart

Touch the Heart of our rock and roll.

Copyright 1993 Douglas Harvey

Friday, July 14, 2023

Kathy's Song (The Darkness Is Done)

The morning light brings the shining sun

Reminding us that the darkness is done

The morning dew shines in the trees

The mockingbirds call in the breeze.

Call in the breeze

CHORUS:

Our love is new / Our love is old

It lives way down / Deep in our soul

Deep in our soul


The clouds float by like a painting alive

And bring the rain that makes us thrive

The sun shines high in the sky today

And like my love for you will never fade

Never fade

CHORUS


The stars come out sprayed across the sky

A living light like the shine in your eyes

The nightbird sings while we sip our tea

Hand-in-hand our hearts are free

Hearts are free

CHORUS


The morning light brings the shining sun

Reminding us that the darkness is done

Darkness is done

Darkness is done.


Copyright Doug Harvey 2022