A bluegrass Neil Young-ish feel to this song about what we English call Tramps and the Americans call Hobo's.
This one was played on the www.homemadehitshow.com podcast and reviewed kindly.
Light acoustic rock folk
I play guitar and sing against backings that I have created using various software tools. I am therefore a home recorder primarily concerned with minting decent recordings of my own songs rather than a performer.
Story behind the song
This was my third original composition and I have to admit I am secretly pleased with this one. I started out trying to do a DADGAD Neil Young like song and it morphed into a bluegrass piece using Double Dropped D instead.
Once I had the lyrics and basic guitar chords and style sorted the real bonus came when I was able to incorporate the swing beat banjo's from my Band in a Box backings. In fact the two banjo's were drawn from separate styles and one started out as a mandolin backing, so you can see why I feel fortunate to have dropped on the possibility.
I normally try to do a 2nd guitar with a lead line but when I listened to the song at that edit stage I felt that it might just overload the song this time. My view was the guitar line was strong enough and the off-beat playing of the banjos, one chording and one arpeggiating was enough for the listener with bass and drums supporting.
Anyway... the song is about the kind of guy you must have seen wandering along the roads, sleeping rough and with nothing but some plastic carrier bags full of rags. I have often wondered what brings people to that, from the comfort of my passing car, and the song is exploring that. Because songs don't really answer questions very well but convey feelings perfectly I avoided a "story" song and went for a feeling of loss. It is also about being disconnected from the rest of society and ultimately horribly lonely.
Lyrics
I'm out on the highway, the wind is blowin'
I've lost everything I own
I'm tired and weary, I'm wet right through
I'm cold and hungry, don't know what to do
Can't find my way home
It's solitary confinement, in the open air
This sentence is not fair
Don't get no four walls, no welcome bed
No saving my soul, no feeling well fed
Can't find my way home
I'm helpless but they don't see me
Too busy watching their colour TV
Or listening to their mp3
They drive by in their giant RV
On their way to their factory
They're making loads and loads of money
Oh why can't they spare some for me
Oh why can't they spare some for me
I'd share my sorrow, if I could be sure
The pain I could endure
I'd tell them my secret, but it can't be told
The story is too old
Can't find my way home
I'd show them if loss could be shown
They'd know it if it could be known
I'd throw it if it could be thrown
I'd bear it if it could be borne
I can't take this all on my own
Don't want to die alone
No words on my tombstone
Can't find my way home
Can't find my way home
