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Parakeetfishhead

by Brian Cutean QTN

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1.
IN THE VALLEY We make our home in the valley beneath a sky big as time We walk along in the valley with our eyes and our minds then we sit around the fire and tell the tales of our souls that burn through the night while shooting stars fall 'round our heads and move our sight when we're home in the valley We make our home in the valley where the river runs around We cover these bodies with water and we sleep on the ground we sing our songs to the rising green hills we hear the music of the birds we learn to sit beneath the quiet without words... There are people in this valley young and yet so old We hear the music of the treetops singing like stories we've been told as we sit beneath the wise old trees passing the heart of sound around, leaves like the stars at night fall and fall without a sound... We make our home in the valley and we listen to the land Here our dreams and situations pass like sand through our hands as we move through the heat of the day beneath skies wide as a heart, time does a handstand and falls apart when we're home in the valley We'll return to the valley like we have for so long before the pyramids were even built we stood here tall and strong we stood here tall and strong once the grasses covered all the high plains once the rivers ran so clear once the buffalo grazed all around and all we could hear was the song of the valley was the song...
2.
LITTLE RACCOON by Patty Peebles I was distracted for a minute for a minute I forgot the world is sad and sorry and could end soon like as not but I'll blame it on that Crow she flew across the sky and took me with her for a minute I knew how to fly Well, it's kind of like when someone when someone is taken up in a spaceship when they're riding round in their pickup truck when they get back they just glow and they're not sure what to say they've been gone a hundred years they think they only missed a day ohhh, they only missed a day So, I rose up in the sunlight sunlight settled in my heart the wind went rushing by my ears and blew my mind apart there was stillness in the motion and it wasn't very long before a light as feather feeling filled me with this song Way up above the trees above the trees I'm looking down I saw a Little Raccoon she was walking on the ground she cocked her little head and met me with her eyes she said "I'm walking on the ground but still my spirit flies ohhh, you know my spirit flies!" Now I'm back out on the highway on the highway breathing fumes where there's broken shards of glass among the ancient ruins there's a look of mistrust in the people passing by but a light-as-feather feeling says "joy cannot hide!" You know, mama's like a marble like a marble in the hand of a mystery that's much too great for me to understand but a messenger flew like an arrow straight across the sky and took mewith her for a minute I knew how to fly ohhh, I knew how to fly
3.
A Small Word 04:52
A Small Word I counted all the seeds in an apple who could count all the apples in a seed? How can I know the things I want are the things I need? Only the asking brings receiving Only the asking brings regiving back to me for all to see Sing out a small word for such a big thing Sing out a small word for such a big thing So who are the ones who question intention who hold a whole universe in their hands? Who are the ones who know the meaning of high romance? Only the asking brings receiving Only the knowing returns the regiving back to you through all you do Sing out a small word for such a big thing Sing out a small word for such a big thing All my relations beneath the sun I can see myself mirrored in everyone Still I can forget to see myself in my closest ones As if the reflection of my nearest mirror is too much to bear so I can't even hear or see the truth as if I still needed proof Sing out a small word for such a big thing
4.
Good Brother 04:02
GOOD BROTHER (for Malcolm Smith) He's a good brother his eyes are like a whirlpool like a mountainhotspring retreat to soak and soothe your soul He's a trust feeling his heart's been changed by lightning now he takes his place in the circle and tends a sacred fire He listens to the thunder rage western in the wind His words are few and chosen well I see the moonlight on his violin He's an old soldier his eyes have seen the glory and the fury and the thunder never shook his wonder In the space where sound is light and heat where moon is pulled by ocean coverging with a restless urge in a singular devotion... He's a gypsy brother his fingers fly right through the music in the aching of every longing he opens the only knowing He's a sky pilot he's got his finger on the button like a wild tailor cuttin' it out of whole cloth And if the river rises, spilling swift in overflowing, he might just jump in and ride the drift not even knowing where he's going And if the river rises, spilling swift in overflowing, he'll jump in just to ride the drift not even knowing where he's going gypsy, jump in and ride the drift not even knowing where you're going...
5.
Calling You 03:55
CALLING YOU Your voice is calling you you cannot hope to hide it's all around you like a descended cloud Your voice is calling you it's different everytime though it's always been the same another smoke ring curling around bringing back a memory like that old forgotten song a ringing sound that's always true a breathing growing strong Your voice is calling you like some forgotten tide rising with the moon and laughing inside your pride Maybe some winter's day you gonna hear it echoing waiting so patiently for you to come back home Your voice is calling it's neither loud nor afraid it never says I told you so no matter how many mistakes you've made Just like the wheel that turns and learns to spin so true that voice just keeps waiting there to remind you what you can do Your voice is calling you it's the river beneath your skin it's pulling you to the water's edge calling you and drawing you in Don't turn away from the song you've waited this long to find if it keeps you growing strong, you can't leave it behind
6.
#9-0 DECADEDANCE There's a rumble in the heartbeat of the land undulating almost out of hand There's a people rising up to take a stand as the rivers drain and the plates shake and the mountains blow and the oceans ache the hourglass is running out of sand... What's all this techno-talk and psychobabbledrool all those things we never learned about in school There's a clicking and a ticking in our brains in a digitally synthesized refrain it's telling us what to wear and when to eat what to need and who to meet while the system is corrupted and insane... It's distraction and retraction called the news in double-speaking words meant to confuse but there's a forest disappearing everyday and where the oil spills it will not go away and while the greedy belch, the landfills scream from no-deposit disposable dreams and we wonder what on earth to do to keep the worst from coming true though we may never know the reason why we cannot be afraid to try the children need to know it's safe to play...
7.
BOX OF MAPLE AVENUE There's a jukebox sits inside a storefront on Box-of-Maple Avenue When someone spins a quarter in, the buildings all commence to shaking and people move by walking in a dream of creation the earth beneath drinks deep of the sound of souls and feet in syn co pa tion On Box-of-Maple Avenue is the Right In/Right Out Hair Saloon The convenience store that sits next door sells cigarettes one at a time and cars drive by with their windows down to hear the boys sing at the lampost without a song man, you know everybody else is singing right along... On Box-of-Maple Avenue There's a man sits on the brownstone steps in the middle of the avenue He hardly has a word to say 'cause he's always playing a guitar and some folks think he's been here as long as they remember he sits beside them everyday already far away so far You could take the number 42 bus if you want to come visit us... There's a donut smell at 6 a.m. on Box-of-Maple Avenue and even the guy who sleeps outside is sitting up sniffing the sky By ten the jukebox kicks in again and the world is drunk on coffee and it takes a long time to come down from that ride as hours become days become weeks become years here On Box-of-Maple Avenue On Box-of-Maple Avenue
8.
TURNING INTO SALT Everybody's sugar is turning into salt not because of what someone did, it's nobody's fault Birds are sitting in the top of the trees watching the sun go down Alberto Campesino lived in Enquentabo town Alberto Campesino lived in Enquentabo town his days were effervescent and his socks kept falling down The people all pointed and whispered too loud and called him "Apfleppy Donado" and the children hung 'round like grapes on a vine and sung of the magic Alberto Well, he knew every joke and riddle and rhyme and laughter had wrinkled his skin Alberto Campesino had every convenience built in Tuesday mornings he'd go to the laundry to look for forgotten old clothes and whenever he found something holey or torn he was happier than anyone could know You know he had an old stick he'd carved long ago with pictures of Eagle and Deer Whenever he spoke of the animals he'd seen, the children would all gather near Then he'd talk of wild horses in fields of green and water so cold and clean and sometimes he'd stare right through everyone around while his eyes watched those faraway scenes When Purple Glowbeeza came falling from the sky, Alberto would lay on the ground All the people would run to their houses and hide from the purple falling all over town "Such a strange man" they'd say with their heads in their shoes and their tongues moving faster than sound and the children would long for the chance to play splashing Purple Glowbeeza all around Now everybody's sugar is turning into salt not because of what someone did, it's nobody's fault but the birds are sitting in the top of the trees watching the sun go down singing: "Alberto Campesino died in Enquentabo town!" He forever invented a thousand new ways to keep the world spinning around and people were amazed when they emptied his house because they only found pictures of angels... and the children hung 'round like bats in a cave and sung of the magic Alberto
9.
Izara 05:16
10.
Pilgrim 04:17
PILGRIM river wash the dust show me trust and cleanse the sorrow i come to you a pilgrim i'm weary from the road river wash the dust adjust my sense of being the pages are so tattered in the volume of this soul i come to you a drifter down the backstreets of america i've seen so many people with hunger in their eyes ribbon wind through time electrickling current remind me of the reason we got to keep on trying i know the times are strange take me back to the silence help me summon the patience this old world sorely needs when you cool my body and clear my fever sunlight breaks into silver slivers with your current and your movement you balance-giver... river do you know the good you help us grow? so river sound round the bend send your song to the ocean river carry me home as you roam through rolling valleys i know you change the land you move the rocks and you shift the boundaries you help the world of man understand this land is sacred i come to you a warrior grateful for sanctuary...
11.
Lightbulbs 05:05
LIGHTBULBS So many souls in these troubled times are frightened in upheaval many fragile hearts and minds lay shattered and revealed Saying goodbye to the sun and fun and sometimes to our only ones saying hello to the mystery while watching it all fall apart How many lightbulbs will it take to turn an uncertain heart? So many days light comes through in an angular brokenglass way while so many growing hearts and minds struggle to find a way to move beyond preferences to rise afar from fear saying goodbye to perfection is a hello to surrender And it's as if everything that falls apart can never be disconnected so how many lightbulbs will it take to turn on the unexpected? Like looking at a river for years and years you'll never hold it in your hand Sometimes a river can make you cry it's nothing you can understand and it's as if everything that falls apart can never be disconnected It's as if everything that falls apart never gets disconnected There's so many ideas in a worldmind how they spin in a centrifugal whirlwind with so many knowing hearts and minds outpicturing beliefs There's more than six billion people now so even ten percent of a whole world mind cryptically tilts the balance and significantly alters formmmm So how many lightbulbs will it take yeah how many lightbulbs will it take to change rampaging storms? How many lightbulbs will it take to transform rampaging storms?
12.
THE KINGS OF TIME O, the kings of time never knew what hit all collected and sober O, days were young and the nights were long and the people didn't know they were breathing everywhere they went, they walked on their feet not moving on but never really leaving O, the spring rained sweet and rivers ran deep and the people didn't know who they were being so they lay down to sleep as the dusk grew deep and at first light they wakened into seeing and the wakening eye saw itself fly by 'til the whole world became another shining ringing loud and clear with the music of a sphere moving through the void with colours flying O, the kings of time thought they knew how to climb to the home of the dervish on the mountain as a goat floated by, they knew they'd climbed way high 'til they showered down like coins into a fountain So the goddess of mirth dreamed a new kind of birth and the people felt the presence of the spirit Old lives became new now they knew what to do and how to listen better for to hear it O, fall came too fast and whole lives hurried past growing old was a gift denied to many With the world on a stage acting out its rage it's a wonder anybody made a penny and the wakening eye breathed an audible sigh 'til the whole world became a green sapling a little askew like a vision coming true growing tall into the tree of ever knowing O, the kings of time rubbed a twin paradigms 'til the faces on the coins started sneezing Then the ground opened up like a punchbowl cup and everywhere the people started freezing Then the sky blew apart like a broken-down heart and the weather had its way no matter what and the ones who were scared found themselves unprepared for the goddess of mirth's almighty laughing And the kings of time never knew what hit... all collected and sober

about

This energetic recording is available again after too many moons out of print. Recorded in Austin and Portland, the musicians who made this music put hearts and fingers together with the songs. This album also features two different tracks with two fine musicians who have since passed away and somehow even left on the same day. Here's to Skip Battin and Marty Jennings.

We begin the field trip In the Valley, with Marjorie and The Dream pressed between ranges of mountains and hills where life is lush like colourful flowers between heavy pages and the river runs through and the growing season is long before the pyramids were even built.

We meet the Little Raccoon and Crow who tell us a story to chew on for the day and to remind us of our connection with all the many tribes of beings. In the silence of sky and land far from city, we contemplate a small word walking down Box-of-Maple Avenue.

We remember those who have gone before us as we hear of our good brother who has changed form beyond this and, in our grieving heart, we hear the one true calm still voice reminding us why we've come and how to carry stillness within even back to the contradiction and confusion of cantankerous urgentbusy emerging urbanity.

That returns us to the Uh-oh Decadedance of business and commerce media and conspicuous-in-consumption and its subsequent by-product: waste; that we learn to bring the gift of stillness to chaos so something like silence might one day emerge in clarity. That takes us back to the neighbourhood of Box-of-Maple-Avenue looking at a day that holds our life times there. There, we meet Alberto Campesino and splash in Purple Glowbeeza and see how everybody's neighbourhood is who they really are.

It becomes necessary at that point to ponder wordlessly into Izara and that takes us walking along the surgemerging winding river. Even though we have lived and worked and pounded our clothes beside the river for years, it really is never the same river twice and there is always something new to learn and hear.

In the rolling ribbon water, we see the moving mind carrying us from idea to idea involving community, sustainability and the future of these fractured families and selves together frank in earnest. Just then, the lightbulb goes on like in an old Grampy cartoon, fabulous and exciting and all is revealed awakening.

And the Kings of Time never knew what hit – all collected and sober...

credits

released June 21, 1999

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Brian Cutean QTN Oregon

Brian Cutean/QTN, Oregon songpoet and wordsmith musician, writes songs with offbeat and touching lyrical observations on the socialography of the human condition. He has performed with spirit and whimsy all over these United States for many years.

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