I don’t listen to music when I write. Can’t do it. Maybe something orchestral, but even then, it’s the music that sets the mood and the pace — that can be okay if it’s what I’m really looking for. That then can lead to a worse condition: I become obsessed with finding the right music for the writing. That might take 30 minutes as I pore through my music library. Thirty minutes of not-actually-writing. Then, if I do find the song or the score, it might be over in an hour. I write for hours, plural. Which means the process has to begin again after 60-80 minutes. Doesn’t work. Big distraction. Too bad.

This also means I don’t listen to music as much as I’d like. Primary place of listening: the car. I have a disc-changer in the car, and I get a pretty good spread of music (current albums in car: Jonathan Coulton, “Best. Concert. Ever.;” The National, “The Boxer;” a mix; MC Chris, “Part Six Part One;” Be Your Own Pet, “Get Awkward;” Butterfly Boucher, “Scary Fragile”). But that means I’m limited to the car for my music, mostly.

And then I bought an iPhone.

And the iPhone reminded me immediately, “Hey, dummy. I’m an iPod. You can fit… oh, let’s just go with all your music into my belly.”

It demanded that I feed it, and feed it now.

So, I did.

Now, I listen to music more frequently. Which is nice.

And it reminds me that while I have wide tastes in music, one element I consistently appreciate is the ability to tell a cool story with music — not a story personal to the writer, exactly. In fact, I’d argue that too many songs are bent solely toward the experiences of the songwriter. Tell me a story. Tell me a story not about you, or that exists in parallel to you, or that serves as a metaphor for you. Don’t tell me another, “He broke up with me again” song. Tell me something about motorcycle movie queens or zombie graveyard parties or a road trip gone bad or… something. Anything.

I figured it’s a good time to use this blog to talk about story songs (songs that tell stories, in case you missed it), and also use it to showcase my musical tastes a little bit, and maybe even get you to check out some new-slash-different music.

Below, for your perusal, Bree Sharp, “The Ballad of Grim and Lily.”

Bree Sharp‘s been off the radar for years after one big radio hit (“David Duchovny”), which is a shame, because she’s great. And reportedly a student of David Mamet? Weird. She’s also from Philly. Go her. She has a new… “band,” which is really just her and another guy, I think. Beautiful Small Machines. Good stuff. Buy all her music.

Oh. Standard bullshit applies: I do not own this, I did not write this, this is copyrighted by Somebody That Is Not Me, etcetera and so on and etcetera.

Lyrics, below, and below those is the actual song, should you care to listen to it through Grooveshark.

…

Six o’clock the sun goes down

The hotel shudders with the sound

Of Grim and Lily’s kiss goodbye

(Oh baby, not goodbye.)

Tired of their life of crime,

They make a plan for one last time.

We’ll be on an island,

Far away.

All alone.

We’ll be on an island,

Tucked away, my love.

We’re almost –

A painting of a velvet clown

Hides enough to skip this town

If Grim gets there before his boss

He’ll pull the final double cross

Lily flicks her cigarette

Her face is tired (tight?) and wired (white?) and wet

But Grim’s so tired of his gun

Says, “Lil, I wanna see the ocean.”

We’ll be on an island,

Far away.

All alone.

We’ll be on an island,

Tucked away, my love.

We’re almost home.

Time is ticking

Pulse is quickening

She’s sick about the thickness of this plot

Her fingers knot

The car is hot

And it takes all the strength she’s got

Not to fall apart when she hears

The single shot.

Lily bends to meet Grim’s face

As they hold hands, she whispers:

“We’ve come so far,

We’re almost home

We’ve come so far –

Don’t give this up

Don’t give this up.

Look in my eyes –

And you’ll see an island

Far away.

All alone.

We’ll be on an island,

Tucked away, my love.

We’re almost home.