My Beautiful Beautiful Concrete Fragile Little Girl

by Joe Young

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1.
These are the games I hate, you play, I stray away from but this is not some antiquated novel. I am not the lead and you’re not to narrate This trip is longer than you so blindly see. She’s my beautiful beautiful concrete fragile little girl and I fear she walks as dreamers do. You’re so quick to lash me for your sins But we’ll both laugh, and you’ll shut me up. You come swinging with your hook and words of steel But when he’s gone you run to me She’s my beautiful beautiful concrete fragile little girl and I fear she walks as dreamers do. She’s so strong and by her side I watch her slip and she collides with tears in eyes. And she will be the death of me. She’ll keep swingIng but I’ll stay. She’s my beautiful beautiful concrete fragile little girl and I fear she walks as dreamers do.
2.
Idea Of Her 04:43
She had the constellations in her eyes any time I smiled. She had some verses and a love reprise she wrote for me before my eyes, And danced her fingers on her small guitar. She asked me if I was an only child and bought me little sweets. She’d hold my hand. I’d hang my head to dry. My heart allowed defeat. So the love come and goes, at least she’s believing. I’ve no heart to show. If love I’ll never know, I just loved the idea of her. I’d show her off to all my friends. They’d say they hope she’s good for me. She’d bring me dinner when I’d work too late and say, “Aren’t we a good team?" So the love come and goes, at least she’s believing. I’ve no heart to show. If love I’ll never know, I just loved the idea of her. The notes to play to take away the pain, took my boys clinking glasses in the rain, a couch to crash on, stories of young love and her tiny shoes of boats floated on. Tiny little shoes, the sails were up
3.
I want to learn how to fly a plane. Maybe build it from the ground up. Then I could show all my friends, that I was in the clouds. I want to learn how to fly a plane. Maybe fly out to the East coast and play my songs, or sing along, to all the tunes I hear. Maybe I would take a trip for two. Or maybe just a trip to make for you. I steer my plane with all my friends. They’d sing and play for you. If I’ve the tools then I’ll make a plane. She’ll be the prettiest one ever. She’ll blind the sun and shine the sky a brighter, warmer blue. If planes held hands then I hold hers tight just to make sure she lands safely. I’d tell her why she means so much before all of her flights. Maybe I would take a trip for two. Or maybe just a trip to make for you. I steer my plane with all my friends. They’d sing and play for you Under the clouds below I’ve memories from the show. I’m gonna learn how to make a plane. For now it’s gonna be paper. I’ll throw it far beyond the stars, and have it fly to you. I want to learn how to fly a plane. Maybe build it from the ground up. Then I could show all my friends, that I was in the clouds.
4.
Similes and metaphors: they fill up music not to bore, but I just need some intellectual quandaries. So how about a song with words in conversation you have heard over the dead time over cups of coffee? So I’ll just write a song for me. No words of love, or birds or bees. I’ll clear your palette and recalibrate. And if you ask me what about this song is I will lightly shout, absolutely nothing. Nothing leads to sleep at night with nothing there to hold you tight ‘cause silence and a big bed are still nice. Nothing comes in many forms: the empty wallet at the store. Looks like you’re eating noodles again tonight. But something always come around, to rid yourself of all the frowns you wore because of absolutely nothing. So when you finally get it all, the wait was finally worth the draw of holding onto absolutely nothing. Leave all the references at home to politics and quotes you know ‘cause everyone has access to opinions. Turn off your mind for just a few and let nature take over you ‘cause you’re going on about absolutely nothing.
5.
6.
Anabelle 02:49
With fists for pillows he sleeps hard. Street vent blankets keep him cozy. Midnight bourbon and the laughter of wallets wash his dreams. He is the man who thinks no more. He rolls his life down jagged sidewalks, while everyone is off to work. The children on the playground, they all look like Anabelle, though he knows no Anabelle anymore. With empty bottles, paper bags, enticing is the alleyway. Gutter rain, he cools his face and rinses off the day. He is the man who thinks no more. Somewhere, someday, he had a hand to grab to hold and climb out with. Some point, some way, he had a bottle to drink and to name on his own, Anabelle. He watches clouds from taxicabs. So translucent and so warming. He speaks in car alarms and stares right past your eyes. He is the man that speaks no more. With fists for pillows he sleeps hard.
7.
Tiny Hands 04:13
Tuck them in and they will say goodnight and then the dreams will take over from there. Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord to watch and guard me through the night. Bright-eyed and full of chance, the slightest smile is time to dance. They’ll run so fast and run right back to you. But if they run and don’t circle round and drift to sleep beneath the ground, know that they’ll keep running back to you. Lace their shoes and see they look like you and have your spirit with them all the time. Their little feet leave footprints in the snow and kids fall down, you pick them up. The hearts are broken and the footprints are gone. The dance has gone quiet and we hear no songs. But those bright eyes and the dreams they had they say goodnight. Those tiny hands they hold on to you. How do we move on from here? Where do we go? What do we say? They said they love you. You hugged them tight. Tiny hands, They’ve said goodnight.
8.
Josephine, of grey and cold, told of memories young and old of her gum tree by the riverside. The miner’s built her home. 65 years married true. In her pearls and dress of blue of forget-me-not’s, forgetful thoughts, longed for conversation too. Older children danced and played Mocking circles ‘round her age Heaven forbid they just talk to her With the soundscapes in her home of 20-somethings blaring tones, they shoo away old Josephine, losing memory all alone. Her yearbook open wide, she turns pages as she smiles. She forgets that she had brought it out, And the children sneak outside. Ghosts wait outside in the rain For you they wait to hear their tales ‘Cause no one waits on them. Josephine, of grey and cold, told of memories young and old of her gum tree by the riverside. The miner’s built her home.
9.
Sometimes the struggle takes, more than a tune to bring us home. The decision’s ours to make. Or will you make the call alone? But who are we to say that the best is still yet coming? We will choose walking over running? Because with no control, and our own delay We watch the fires start and the streets decay. But when the moment comes to love, will you run? So you lost another war. But you still have time to grow. Because I’m sure it’s just SO bad. So will you run or take it slow? But who are we to say that the best is still yet coming? We will choose walking over running? Because with no control, and our own delay We watch the fires start and the streets decay. But when the moment comes to love, will you run? Get rid of the haphazard voices in your head. The loss of your love is what leaves your comrades dead. You scream and you throw your dreams right out the door. If you’re bearing arms, what are you fighting for? So now the world is in your hands. It’s always been. The road less traveled winds and bends. But don’t they all?
10.
11.
Twenty four hours in the day, A year’s worth of mistakes made In the thirty one days this month. Time always knows how you are doing. December turns and another Year is shed from the hour glass. There are no pauses, Even if we cannot keep Our promises to Time it will not Flee from our side. It remains with us, always. Time presses on Metronomically consistent as our Guide – as a maestro pushes his Symphony forward in concert; reviews Never being subject to do over, too We live in time of no rewind We're all children of time. You didn't love her. You loved the idea. The world isn't over 'cause blood has been spilled. The value of all time frame’s Dependent on the beauty of our Portrait within; only reaching Completion when Time Has left us for the first time; For the last time We're all children of time. You didn't love him. You loved the idea. The world isn't over 'cause blood has been spilled. Life forces you to grow up too fast. Love has no deadlines amidst the hour glass. All these questions, they've no answers: the transitional If things don't circle round, I hope things get better. We make sacrifices for ourselves.
12.
Grab your paint and your brushes No need to wait for so much as A sign the rain isn’t coming But if it does I’ll stand right over you You draw the faces you don’t see. To break the shackles and set free The clock that doesn’t move forward. And though you’re lost I’ll navigate you home. Hold on to your idea Of love and what it means You’re bright you’re not a fool You’re pretty as a jewel And I will be paint with you Mold your clay into something You wish to be that you love and You can see down the tunnel. We’re always almost there, It just takes some time. Hold on to your idea Of love and what it means You’re bright you’re not a fool You’re pretty as a jewel And I will paint with you.
13.
14.
The carpet served as your place of comfort. The grandfather clock did not wake you up. Our dog she paid no mind as you took her spot in the sun. You swallowed hard and looked high above me to roll the tears back inside. “Please forgive me,” you said through vertigo and teary glossy eyes. And I will wait on you. I watched you roll back to bed and hit the frame like a violent storm. I tucked you in. And I stayed inside And watched you collide I did not know which way you went, but you had made it back unscathed, though I wore all of your wounds. Yet I still wait on you. I watch you roll back to bed and hit the frame like a violent storm. I tucked you in.
15.
In 86' my maker slept, and the children dreamed of Chernobyl days. But in the dark of night Reactor 4 took to blazen skies of beauty and of plight. The Soviets came and bussed the town away from here. My maker, gone. The soldiers fought and the "Liquidators" dug, but they did not leave. They lay in ground. And Pripyat, my brother, we'll wait until the Mother removes our Cesium cover. The radiation soaked and brittle were my bones, but I'll stand my ground in my Chernobyl home. Tanks arrived, of armor and of frown. They sobbed and took me: crumbled to the ground. And Pripyat, my brother, we'll wait until the Mother removes our Cesium cover. Strong blood, long gone. Stay back. Keep calm. Let me rest here. Keep your thoughts near. I'll wait a century and they'll come back. ...Will they come back? The forest red, we talk at night. She's fallen ill, but determined to fight.
16.
When the sun will rise and you will see, You and I will carry home the sons we bear on old Erie We shall carry home. When the meal is done and drinks are gone, You and I will carry on the life we left on old Erie We will carry on. We will remember The love we had together When the moon comes up and waves they crash You and I will love no more, Upon that old sand beach Erie We will love no more We will remember The love we had together.

about

This collection of songs was recorded at Alta Vista Studios in Austin, Texas between the Fall of 2013 and Winter January 2015.
The album is my attempt at combining my folk songs with many instruments of the orchestra and wind band, as well my usual bluegrass roots.
I had a lot of help from musicians across Texas, the US Army, and dear friends of mine.
I hope you enjoy the tunes!

For musical support, friendship, love, and influence, THANK YOU to:
Mom & Dad, Julie, Jessica & Geoff, Tom Johnson, Tyler & Ashley, Eric & Lyndsey, Ben Clark, Nick Rapley, Ryan Brewer, Nathan Shew, Andrew & Hannah Smicker, Christy Geisler, Uncle Howie, Eli Zoller, Kristine Kruta, Brad Sherman, Bryan Plunkett, David Jackson, Bill Hyman, Robert McSweeney, Quintin & Karina Hedrick, Selcuk Yargici, Matt Locker, Amanda Mayo, Brent Ramsey, Tony Licata, Jeremiah Winters, SungEun Park, Derek Bannasch, Jim Wilson, Chris Gage, Antwan McArthur, Yevgeniy Sharlat, The Felix Quartet, Wild Wind Basin Quintet, Jeanne Y. Pace, Derrick Shaw, 1st Cavalry Division Band - US Army, Gabriel Kahane, Ari Hest, Punch Brothers, Anaïs Mitchell, yMusic, the girlfriends along the way, Windsor the greatest dog ever, Hulon Stringer, EVERYONE WHO HELPED FUND THIS PROJECT HOLY CRAP THANK YOU, good coffee, bad coffee.

credits

released May 12, 2015

Engineered & Mixed by: Tom Johnson - Alta Vista Studios
Additional Mixing for track 1 by: Chris Gage - MoonHouse Studio

Mastering: Jim Wilson Mastering

*Individual musicians credited on individual tracks

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Joe Young New York, New York

Trumpeter, guitarist, singer-songwriter, composer. Mandolin owner, hack banjoist, Toronto Maple Leafs fan. Army. Don't let another musician go hungry--feed me.

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