I know that few friends, family or strangers, let alone people in the music industry, will like this collection of tunes. It’s funny to me that I even write stuff like this. Some of my heroes are Randy Newman, Groucho Marx, Kurt Vonnegut, Don Martin, Stan & Ollie, Mark Twain, Steve Wright, Bill Waterson, The Three Stooges, Charlie Chaplin, and all the clowns of the world. Yet, I spent my youth railing against Nixon, Vietnam, Watergate—well-defined villains and ill-conceived events, clear demarcations of corruption and warped ideology for which history will continue to refine a well-documented contempt. Marching against Bush, et al, felt lonely.
One could have sympathetic conversations with like-minded people regarding the decline perpetuated by his administration, but nothing ever rallied to the kind of outrage that gives form to authentic protest. I’m as guilty as the next for simmering in my suburban stew of parlor room convictions, but I could still feel the sweat of anxiety and that echo of deceit—the same kind of echo that drove Mrs. Moore out of the Marabar Caves in EM Forster’s A Passage to India. The reverberation of helplessness and the impotence of the life- tourist-visitor are also the realizations of Henrik Ibsen’s belief that “the majority is always wrong,” and that the more crowded the room, the more alone we shall be. Where is salvation? Right.
How worthy, then, are we of the marriage of politics and religion—the very immobility of faith itself which is the construct of salvation? We may as well be sealed in a cask and bricked behind Poe’s wall—such is the curse of our inaction.
As a final plea echoing fearfully through the caves of a vanished world, “My Heart Waits for a Cure,” is built around David’s subtly placed sound ‘Cavefx’ constructions—grim sea distress signals, bats flying about, things digitally oozing—and a simple melody with strings attached, stitching together a poetic realization of one being gorged and cocooned by a vampire—the immortal motif for the ages..
lyrics
My Heart Waits for a Cure
My heart waits for a cure
My heart waits for a cure
Seed this kiss, roll the dice
Feed my lungs with fire and ice
My heart waits for a cure
My heart waits for a cure
Take my hand, this fingered wing
Shake this sorrow, numb its sting
My heart waits for a cure
My heart waits for a cure
Fold me in your blazing skin
Find me out and let me in
My heart waits for a cure
My heart waits for a cure
Cage me in your cave so dark
Breathe me in and leave your mark.
Edward Morneau has been a musician and songwriter most of his life. His focus on multiple genres and interest on sound
collage experimentation makes his music hard to classify. His muses range from Beatles, Brian Wilson, Randy Newman, XTC, Kinks, Iris DeMent to Mahler, Shostakovich, Penderecki & Zappa. His background as an English & Film teacher gives humor and striking imagery to his songs....more
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