Another Songwriters' Showcase at the Daily Grind in Martinsville, and another fun racket, courtesy of the old man and a slew of other talented individuals from all around Virginia, North Carolina, and even as far away as LA — as in Los Angeles, not Lower Axton, as some Martinsville natives have dubbed the neighboring community. The first songwriters' event, back in September, drew a respectable crowd. This one, with twice as many musicians, drew what appeared to be about three times the number of attendees.
Ms. Brugger and I got there a little early to partake of their wine tasting, which proved decent enough, as did the paninis we attacked with ferocious delight, as neither of us had eaten in about a month. Our friends/fellow geocachers Tom and Linda Imbus from Browns Summit showed up to heckle me, as did old friends Ashby and Lynn Pritchett from Martinsville, and to their credit, none of them took it upon themselves to hurl undesirable objects or epithets my way. Sporting souls, our fine friends.
The event ran from roughly 7:30 to 10:00 PM, with eleven musicians, including me, signed up to play. My set consisted of three original songs, "Paranoid Schizophrenia" (again), "Ice Blossoms" (whose origin is recounted here), and "The Watcher" (yet again). I was hoping to include the video of "Ice Blossoms" here, as it's my favorite of the lot, but between electronic glitches and crowd noise, the video didn't turn out very well. I may go ahead and upload it to YouTube regardless, and I'll leave it to you to decide whether to give it a look or avoid it all costs and preserve your sanity.
I'll post the lyrics to "Paranoid Schizophrenia" — which is the second song I ever wrote, back in 1978, while I was at Ferrum College — beneath the videos below. Enjoy or run like hell, your choice.
Paranoid Schizophrenia
Talked with him just yesterday because I was all alone.
I heard his voice and what he said; it's different now you've gone.
In darkened halls and haunted paths, I hear him sing his song.
He told me what I thought I felt; he told me I was wrong.
Run away, I told myself. Run away, I cried.
I'm mad, I must be mad. Run away.
He told me to calm myself. He told me never run.
He told me to help myself. He told me never cry.
He's right again, he's never wrong; how could he ever lose?
I've talked with him, I can't believe there's nothing left to choose.
Talked with him just yesterday because I was all alone.
I've heard his voice inside of me — my heart, my guide, my soul.
Run away, I told myself. Run away, I cried.
I'm mad, I must be mad. Run away.
"Paranoid Schizophrenia," ©1978, 2017 Stephen Mark Rainey
