Who Do We Think We Are?
In their second release, Maggie's Guitar offers a dozen original songs in genres ranging from piano ballads to gentle acoustic folk to hard-edged electric rock. Here are the stories behind the songs, as told by the writers: Seeds Of Life (Ron Gletherow): This song was written for my brother, who took his own life while his mind was in turmoil. It took me over 40 years to write, and it's still not exactly what I wanted to say.... but it's close. Song For Sal (Margaret Gletherow): I wrote this song for my dear friend, Sal Joseph, a few days after he died of cancer at the age of 69. Sal was a close friend of Jim Croce, and wrote the song 'Thursday', about a bad experience he had on a Thursday. Jim recorded the song on a Thursday, one week before he died in a plane crash, on a Thursday. Sal 'left us on a Thursday, like I always knew he would'.... He was my best guy friend for over 30 years and I still miss him. No Time To Wave Goodbye (Ron Gletherow): This song tells the story of the many thousands of children, including three of my elder sisters, who were evacuated from London for their own safety during World War II. The children were taken to escape the bombings, not knowing where they were headed, nor when they would see their parents again. The title was taken from a book of the same name by Ben Wicks. Who Do You Think You Are (Ron Gletherow): Written after a concert I went to with my wife, Margaret, and the reaction I had to it. The 'mini-star' involved, a fellow Brit, was a relic from a 60's teeny-bop band who felt he was far too cool to sign autographs of take part in any meet and greet with his fans, despite several dozen who had brought 60's memorabilia in the hope that he would sign. The guy seemed to have forgotten who paid his wages, but at least I got a song out of it. Late For The Bus (Ron Gletherow): This was the strangest song I've ever written as it came to me in a dream, music, lyric, arrangement, and even the idea for the video that followed. In the dream I was this central character in some bizarre Broadway musical, who on missing a bus and then a train, managed to avoid his involvement in the London bombings of July 2005. In the end, it has become a representation of my eternal hope for world peace. Anthem (Mike Bailey): You tell people you live in Connecticut, like we do, and they instantly think of wealth and snobs. But that's what we call "the Gold Coast," an area that's basically a suburb of New York, and it's a different world from the rest of the state, which is blue collar and struggling. That's certainly the case here in New London, which was a whaling port and then a Navy town. For decades, Electric Boat made us the submarine capital of the world, and we still may be, but the end of the Cold War meant thousands of layoffs. We've got two huge tribal casinos that promoters said would bring in jobs, but it didn't work out to be fair trade for the skilled sub-building jobs. Add to that the whole federal bailout, and you've got a lot of people who are seeing their American Dream slipping away. Everest (Mike Bailey): I wrote this after reading Into Thin Air by John Krakauer. I was struck by the story of Rob Hall, who died on Everest during the disastrous 1996 expedition. As I understand it, when Hall became pretty sure he wouldn't make it down, he talked to his wife by satellite phone and told her that he was comfortable and not to worry. I obviously wasn't there and don't pretend to know what they said, but I can only imagine how I would have felt and would have said in his place. Baghdad 117 (Mike Bailey): For the families that have been separated, at least geographically, by war. Lighthouse (Mike Bailey): I've always been drawn to lighthouses. My family used to vacation in Point Judith, R.I., and I spent a bit of time at the lighthouse there. Lighthouses seem to have a noble calling and lonely souls. Times Are Hard (Mike Bailey): I wrote this on the train from New Haven to New York, where I was taking my daughter one day. Everything in that song was either someone I saw or a bit of conversation I overheard on the ride. Homeless people gathering up soda cans in Cos Cob, which is part of the aforementioned Gold Coast. Riders talking about how they worried for their kids. The same theme: we're all struggling, and the politicians on both sides don't have a clue. They don't care.