jennyarntzen.music

  The minstrel boy to the war is gone In the ranks of death you'll find him His father's sword he hath girded on And his wild harp slung behind him "Land of Song" cried the warrior bard "Tho' all the world betrays thee One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard One faithful harp shall praise thee" The minstrel fell but the foeman's chain Could not bring that proud soul under The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again For he tore its chords asunder And said, "No chains shall sully thee Thou soul of love and brav'ry Thy songs were made for the pure and free They shall never sound in slavery"

  I have started playing music in a very modest, quiet way around Mom's kitchen table. I grew up in a musical family. Spontaneity is the key. All six children were encouraged to play an instrument and the walls of the living room had many instruments at hand. Some of the songs are new to me but from very old songbooks. There was a piano, a double bass, clarinet, trumpet, recorders, hand drums, xylephones, and guitars easily within reach. Some of the songs are new to me and new to the world. My first music lessons were on the piano and I loved reading the music, hearing the simple tunes, training my hands and fingers to find the right notes. Some of the songs are well known, well worn, and favourites for everyone to sing along. At Christmas, Dad, a music teacher, would assemble his family band of children and Mom and we would troup through the neighbourhood playing our renditions of popular holiday songs. It has always been difficult for me to record my music-making becaus...

  (D)  (G)  (A)  (G)  (D)  (G)  (D) (D)In the early morning (A) rain with a (G) dollar in my (D) hand (G) (D) With an aching in my (G) heart (A)and my pockets full of (D) sand (G) (D) I'm a long way from (G) home (A) and I miss my loved ones (D) so (G) (D) In the early morning (A) rain (G) with no place to (D) go (G) (D) Out on runway number nine, big seven-o-seven set to go But I'm stuck here in the grass with a pain that evergrows Now the liquor tasted good and the women all were fast Well now there she goes my friend, she's a-rolling down at last Hear the mighty engines roar, see the silver wing on high She's away and westward bound, far above the clouds she'll fly Where the morning rain don't fall and the sun always shines She'll be flying over my home in about three hours time This old airport's got me down, it's no earthly good to me 'Cause I'm stuck here on the ground, as cold and drunk as I can be You can't jump a jet plane like y...

 WHEN I GROW TOO OLD TO DREAM When I grow too old to dream, I'll have you to remember. When I grow too old to dream, Your love will live in my heart. So kiss me my sweet, and so let us part. And when I grow too old to dream, That kiss will live in my heart. When I grow too old to dream, I'll have you to remember. When I grow too old to dream Your love will live, will live in my heart. So kiss me, my sweet, and so let us part. And when I grow too old to dream, That kiss will live in my heart. Source: Musixmatch Songwriters: Oscar Hammerstein Ii / Sigmund Romberg When I Grow Too Old to Dream lyrics © Emi Robbins Catalog Inc.

  Two years ago Mom moved in with me after forty years in mental health group housing due to the impact of her schizophrenia. She turned 91 on the day she moved in. She immediately suffered a serious health decline and we were put on the palliative care registry. This month Mom celebrated her 93rd birthday. She is a frail elder. Often when she has energy, she is singing in her room. This is a song she has been singing since she moved in. It was only recently I finally asked where the song came from. It turns out Aunti Ivy, Mom's oldest sister, used to play this song on the piano. The family used to gather around and sing together from her songbook. This was one of those songs.  Aunti Ivy is gone now. She was 11 years old when Mom was born. Mom must have been a little girl when this song was sung and she memorized the words. This week we have finally identified the song and it is going to be added to our songbook. We are now learning to play it. A new music project has been ins...

  There is something important that happens when we share music and music making.  It isn't about polish, professionalism, or building a brand. It isn't about demonstrating untold hours of practice through flawless memorization and performance. It isn't about extraordinary talent or brilliant technique. What it is about, for me, is letting down our defences, joining forces, and making a moment where the wholeness of our collective expression is greater than our parts. Where our combined voices and instruments speak to our greatest good. Where the truth is known, "What we can't do alone we can do together." There is the character of the itinerant musician, instruments that can be carried when we are forced to move. Instruments that can be plucked, blown, strummed.  Music that is in its most natural state, tuneful, harmonious, quiet, slow, dynamic. You can hear a pin drop, you can be swept away. Song lyrics put into words the feelings, longings, fears and aspira...