We’ve all heard the saying, “Sh** or get off the pot.” I have a sneaking suspicion artists hear it a lil’ more often than others. So, how do you sew up such colorful conviction and diligence with wavering faith in a song? Very carefully. Thank God for metaphor! I’ve been “paying my dues” longer than I can remember. I don’t think it’s something a wise artist ever believes he stops or should stop doing. There’s a huge failure in my teaching and mentoring community to recognize and therefore distinguish the difference between chasing a “big break” vs. developing a career in the arts. Big breaks find you, not the other way around. This failure breeds impatience and contempt. I grew up with Mom’s attached “Eat Your Vegetables” cutout on our fridge. In typical artist fashion, I had to attach deeper meaning to our refrigerated reminder and exploit its significance to any struggling artist.

Eat Your Vegetables
Words and Music by Jeff Hartman

Isn’t complicated
It isn’t complicated
I swear it isn’t hard
It’s not that hard to understand

Rather not be hated
I’d rather not be hated
Loosening the grip
The grip that’s loosening my hand

Sit down
The seat is cold but it gets warmer
Your turn
Enjoy a New York Times best-selling novel
That’s right
It’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it
Stand up
Pull yourself together
Nothing to it

Don’t get so excited
Don’t get too excited
Good things come to those
Good things come to those who wait

Bitching’s overrated
Fit pitching’s overrated
Better not complain
Best you eat what’s on your plate

Why does it pour when it rains
(Mainly on the plain and interrupted)
Who moves on and who remains
(Plainly the meek and the disrupted)

Give me a chance to fill the shoes I’m walking in
On bended knees I pray

Eat your vegetables
They’re good for you
Eat your vegetables
They’re good for me, too

I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce you to “Erica’s Song.” Erica Coffey was a dear friend of mine and many, taken by a car accident 22-years young, one week before my wedding. I could talk/write all day and never run out of things to say about her. “Erica’s Song” is the result of so many and not enough conversations, e-mail exchanges and experiences, mine and others’ with Erica, cut and pasted into a kaleidoscope of abstract lyrics and music wrestled with Celtic guitar licks and Carol Anne’s ghostly vocal runs.

Erica’s Song
Words and Music by Jeff Hartman

Erica knows what she’s talking about when she says nothing at all
Regardlessly happy with
Better without
Everyone’s left but I stall

She unglues me
I’m falling apart
Amuse me
I’m ready to start

Standing in line between heroes and friends
Can’t please them all but she tries
From the beginning but that’s where it ends
The girl with the anime eyes

I just know her
I can’t explain why
Hello’d her without saying goodbye

Phone
It happened today
Alone
It happened that way

I wasn’t prepared for what Christopher said
I buried my face in the sheets on my bed
Convincing myself it was all in his head
Soliciting Jesus to take me instead

God knows the difference between right and wrong
Christening strength when I need to be strong
Wishing is easy
It doesn’t take long when ladybugs testify Erica’s song

Left hand on yellow
Right foot on green
Violently Femme-ing the floor
The natives are restless
She’s setting the scene
The locals find hard to ignore

I told her the show must go on
I told her the lines have been drawn

Poem
There’s so much to say
Home
Unheralded stay

Practically perfect
I don’t understand
Denying the kingdom of heaven’s at hand
The cream in my Coffey is high in demand
Wearing the time when she stood where I stand

Leaping my faith where it doesn’t belong
Finding I know what she knew all along
Wishing is easy
It doesn’t take long when ladybugs testify Erica’s song

“I Thought It Was Leather” is one of only two “novelty” songs I’ve written for any album. It’s less fiction than fact and laced with metaphors and euphemisms. The music is reminiscent and a mix of early Iggy Pop and rock-a-billy Grateful Dead material. It’s mostly the result of a challenge, or “dare” if you will. Circa 1995, I was preparing to direct music for James “Buzz” Atwood and Foothills Performing Arts’ production of “Little Shop of Horrors.” On the set of TNT’s “Andersonville” in Wilmington, NC, Buzz turned to me with a notion. He suggested two lines he’d like to see grow up to be country music songs. The second was “I thought it was leather, but it was vinyl and it all tore up.” One year later, a long, bittersweet relationship came to an end. In “perspecting” the accompanying emotions, I could find no better way to metaphor the experience or person involved.

I Thought It Was Leather
Atwood/Hartman

She needs no introduction
She’s the one who loved me two
How could I be mistaken
The love that she was making wasn’t mine
On that woman’s surface lies designer leather far from genuine

I thought it was leather but it was vinyl and it all tore up
I caught them together
My house
His pants
Her bra
C cup

She’s got a style she can call her own
I love her but I’m not alone
I thought it was leather but it was vinyl and it all tore up

She did it all for my protection
She is far between and few
The rule and the exception the guests at your reception love to hate
Expect the unexpected
Protect the unprotected at the gate

The fabric of my life
Suggested retail in a sea of outlet merchandise
I’ve seen it all before
Caveat emptor
Salvation Army sacrifice

I thought it was leather
I thought it was real
I paid a pretty penny for the thoughts I couldn’t deal

It was vinyl
It was pain
It was final
It was vain

I just know
I just know
I just know