TomFlannery.com

New songs. Hell, it’s been almost 2 months since “Edward”. What else am I supposed to do? Work?

Writing on the piano this time. Bear with me.

In a bit..

tf

My father died shortly after 2am on March 30th, 2010. My sister was with him at hospice. We were keeping a vigil on a rotating basis. We knew the end was near. Most had already said their goodbyes a few hours earlier. But we were determined he was not going to die alone. It’s a fear we all have isn’t it?

I was sitting up on my couch….dozing. My head jerked awake…and once I caught my bearings I sent a quick text to my sister. She replied that things were the same. A few minutes later she called me. He was gone.

It happened just like that.

I was numb. Like a robot I went to the closet and put on my coat….then slipped into the car and out into the street. Back to the house I grew up in. I spent the night in my old bedroom and was awoken by birds outside my window.

Alzheimer’s is a cowardly fucking disease, and it continues its grisly march through our family. It doesn’t kill. It slowly ravages the mind and the body, allowing something else to bring on death. In my father’s case, his organs were shutting down. And he simply lost the strength required to breathe. It was a horrible thing to watch, and in many ways the end came mercifully quick. His fight with Alzheimer’s had lasted more than 5 years. He gave no quarter. He raged….sometimes growing so frustrated by what it was doing to him that he’d pull his hair. Or pound on the side of his head with an open hand. Hard. He knew. Parts of him the disease could never touch. He knew. And to me there’s nothing more tragic than that. But Alzheimer’s is a fixed fight. The outcome is determined in advance.

So now it’s a year later.

He’s never far. I often think of how he’d respond to this or that. Or what path he’d suggest I take. He had the ability to point out the right path, knowing that I’d choose the wrong one, and then help me up and brush me off when I went back to him asking for directions to the location he suggested all along…without saying or even implying “I told you so”. Not sure how he managed it. I must have driven him half mad over the years. But he’d say, “I’m proud of you”. And all would be right with the world. Nobody else can do that.

He taught me how to be a father. What greater lesson can a man learn? He also taught me that being a great father doesn’t guarantee that your kids are not gonna make you cringe at times. I’m Exhibit A. But if I can do half the job he did, my 2 girls will keep my cringing to a minimum.

We become torn when terminal illness invades. One one level I can’t be truly sad that he’s gone. For him to live as he’d been living was a form of torture. Just when does the “sanctity of life” become perverted? When your options are reduced to unbearable pain or drug-induced oblivion, what then? I won’t go into the whole religious argument, and I’m certainly not suggesting anything draconian here, but there’s something to be said for allowing our loved ones to go through pain that we’d never subject our pets to. Something to be said indeed….although I’m not sure what it is.

So, it’s been a year. Sometimes it feels like he’s been gone a few days. And sometimes I have a hard time remembering when he was here at all. When I could call him. Laugh with him. Learn from him. Alzheimer’s took most of him from me long before his last breath. It robbed him of what he wanted to say but could not find….and where he wanted to go but could not get to. It forced this man who had always taken care of others to allow others to take care of him. And for certain, surely terrifying moments, those “others” were complete strangers to him. Even when they were us.

Tonight will be hard. When 2am rolls around I do wonder if I’ll wake suddenly again. Or if I’ll even be able to sleep at all. What jerked me awake that night a year ago anyway? I like to think it was Pop saying goodbye.

Maybe tonight, he’ll say hello.

–tf

Just a bit of info on what’s been happening.

“Edward” is out and about and doing quite well. I’m pleased with the reception the record has received. I’m very happy with the songs, which all seemed to coalesce at one time….so I thought it only proper to record them all at one time. The record wasn’t planned at all. In fact, I’m still stuck on the record I was planning, and remain afraid to let those songs go. Not sure when they’ll see the light of day. The way my mind works it could be next week or 2014. Flip a coin.

In other music news, my self-taught piano lessons continue. I’ll never be confused for Liberace (in more ways than one), but I’m getting to where I don’t make others cringe when I play. I’m faking it quite well actually. All I really want is to be able to use the piano to write songs, and I’m nearly there. When the guinea pig is written, my plan is to drag the recording machine upstairs and take a crack at recording it. Throw some good vibes my way please.

In theater news, my play “Colorblind: The Katrina Monologues” recently won first prize at the Pennsylvania Association of Community Theater festival. It now moves on to represent the state in the Eastern State Festival next month, with the winner of that heading to Washington DC for the national festival. Who knows? I’ve got a great cast and a great director and know enough to stay the hell out of everyone’s way.

My play “Go Irish: The Purgatory Diaries of Jason Miller” (co-written with Rodger Jacobs) recently finished a successful short run in Camden, NJ and will head to off-off Broadway at the end of April and the beginning of May. It ain’t glamorous, but it is the Big Apple, so what the hell. It’s where every playwright wants to be, ultimately. I’ll worry about the digs later.

My blog with co-conspirator Mike Stevens continues uninterrupted….mostly because I badger Stevens unmercifully when he doesn’t post. It’s a lot of fun, and it keeps the fingers and (to a lesser extent) the mind limber.

I’ve got lots of future plans and if I wasn’t so good at procrastinating I’d be working on them now instead of writing this. So onward I go…

In a bit…

–tf

Reviews

Tom Flannery’s latest collection of songs ” Edward” has this singer/songwriter scratching his head in pure wonderment…  Every time this guy writes something down and begins to sing, the listener is taken into a different dimension.. From the opening song We Deserve Better Than This, to Sleepin’ In,  Mickey Mantle, and What If What I Want Is Not Enough… With every melodic track, you can’t help but feel for the characters he has created, and the unique dialogue they have with each other.. How many lives have you lived Thomas ??
—Ed Appnel (singer-songwriter)

“Tom’s vast prolific and topical lyrics put together with the great melodies on ‘Edward’ , once again, shows he is a musical force to be reckoned with “.
–Shawn Z (singer-songwriter)

His latest venture, Edward, is Flannery at his best: whimsical, poignant; at times heartbreaking and scathing. In a nutshell, Edward does not disappoint and certain tracks, most notably “We Deserve Better than This,” “Wallflowers” and “Without a Girl,” rank among his finest work. These tunes prove once again that Flannery is deserving of a much wider audience.
–Bruce Janu (Award Winning Filmmaker)

The latest incarnation of this ever-evolving writer is a rock album for the active listener.  You bring the bass and drums.  Tf brings the lust, anger, resentment, and desire.  Solid melodies and, as always, solid storytelling.  It’s easily his most accessible and entertaining collection.
–Josh Pratt (singer-songwriter)

“Once again Flannery defies you to pigeonhole him… a life-long folkie’s unexpected rock record with a whispering understated delivery.  Hard not to keep this one on repeat!”
—Lorne Clarke (singer-songwriter)

A singer/songwriter worthy of the title. Memories put to music then played at an intimate party on a comfortable Saturday night. The kind of party where someone says, ‘Tom, tell us a few stories about life and those times that are ‘a fadin’
—Mike Stevens – WNEP

“The bars are closed, the streets are empty, and these songs filter through the walls. Tom Flannery’s new recording is small town film noir. After listening I had to grab my guitar and try to write a new song. And that’s a compliment. Good stuff.”
—Michael Jerling (singer-songwriter)

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Download Edward for FREE here

The new record is available. Download “Edward” for free NOW
(read the reviews)

Stream online now

Download for FREE

We Deserve Better Than This
Wallflowers
The Unbelievers
Deliver Me
Mary Ann
Without a Girl
Sleeping In
What If What I Want Is Not Enough
Mickey Mantle
It Could Happen Today

Handwritten Lyrics and Notes

all songs by Tom Flannery
copyright 2011
recorded January 31, February 1,2 2011

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Over the last year I wrote one batch of songs and then decided to put them aside. I was too close to them. So I tried to keep my distance by writing simple pop songs. Scribbled out the lyrics in a notebook and searched for melodies.

The only problem was that I didn’t record them like pop songs, so they sound kinda sad and folkie. If I recorded them on 3 different days they might have sounded like the Ramones. When recording alone it’s all about the mood you’re in when you’re in front of the mic. Plus it’s hard to sound like the Ramones when all you have is an acoustic guitar and everyone in the house is trying to sleep.

So “Edward” is the result. I hope you like the songs. I had a lot of fun banging them out. And they’re free. Whadda you got to lose?

–Tom Flannery
February 3, 2011

Will not leave the house until I learn how to play the piano well enough to sit down and write a song. Getting there.

In a bit…

–tf

We interrupt our regular programming to inform you that I am now learning how the play the piano.

Not by the book mind you….but I’m bashing away on the white keys so far and pulling out things approaching melodies. I really want to use the piano for songwriting. ‘Tis a very expressive instrument.

Stay tuned.

In a bit….

–tf

I’m not that quick to jump on the “hate speech” bandwagon. Let’s face it. If a guy can be talked into shooting someone by listening to Glen Beck or Rush Limbaugh on the radio, it’s a good bet he’s pretty far gone already. Folks who listen to talk radio of any sort are defective enough to start with. The last thing they require is a push off the ledge.

I do feel a bit of a twinge that it’s perfectly legal in Arizona for a diagnosed mental defective to walk into a store and walk out with a Glock 19…..but at least I’m 2,386 miles away from Tucson. I like to look at the bright side. However, Glock sales have surged since the shooting, coincidentally, which probably says more about where we are as a nation than all the rest of this story combined.

We’re pretty fucked, basically. Mired in a pile of shit. That’s what it says. But while rationality may have left the building, Elvis never truly died….so he’ll be back and the old biddies will be tossing underwear at him again in no time. You know that sentence makes perfect sense so there’s no need to read it again.

I used to dive headfirst into political debates but no more. Political bloviatiers are even worse than the politicians they bloviate about. I’ve got my own views, and even if I’m force-fed Fox News intravenously I’m not going to change them. I consider myself reasonably intelligent. I am reasonably educated. I can read (half the adults in this country are illiterate, so reading is not something I take for granted) and I like to think I’m sorta open-minded. I believe in what I can see with my own eyes. I think if somebody falls down you should help them up. If you help somebody up and then they steal your wallet that’s kinda bad form but I think these assholes are pretty rare. It’s been my experience that people needing the most help are often the most helpful. The reverse also seems to hold true, which can really piss a fella off.

Who knows why folks feel like they do? I’m a liberal not afraid to use the word liberal, but I might feel differently about, say, immigration if armed mexican drug smugglers were using my back-yard as a hostel. I might feel differently about guns too. It’s easy to be enlightened when you’re not personally affected, which is why we should always be suspicious of guys who never fought in wars starting them.

No House or Senate member or major political pundit on either side of the aisle is in danger of missing a meal, or of having to choose between that meal or health care for their child. So there’s not a credibility “gap” so much as a credibility chasm. Being lectured at is annoying enough. Being lectured at by a guy making 6 or 7 figures is unbearable. So beware of the screeching head that demonizes those who just happen to be in a way lower tax-bracket. It’s not a crime to be poor in this country, although if Reagan had a third term….

See, I caught myself. If I can do this, surely everybody can.

In a bit…

–tf

Everyday I’m getting ideas. Everynight I sit with a light barely strong enough to illuminate my pen and I try to get the ideas down in one of those marble-covered notebooks that have replaced legal-pads in my world…legal pads having replaced the computer…..which I divorced after realizing that paper doesn’t crash and get lost for no apparent reason.

Someday when it’s not so much fun writing them I gotta record some of this stuff. Pop songs. I want to write the perfect one. Well, the perfect one has already been written (Noel Gallagher’s “Wonderwall”), so I’d settle for the runner-up spot. That might be worth some cash actually.

In a bit…

–tf

I’ve written a lot of songs over the years. Some fall away for ages and I’m nudged back to them periodically. Such is my song “The Indianapolis”, which I wrote back in 2004.

Like most I learned of the story from Quint’s monologue in the movie “Jaws”. To me it remains the greatest monologue in movie history (I’ve since learned that it played a bit loosely with the facts, but at its core the horror was well conveyed).

But there was so much more. I studied. I read (I recommend In Harm’s Way by Doug Stanton). I questioned. I learned the shameful secrets. And in a white-hot fever I sat down and wrote the song in one sitting.

It was soon picked up by a wonderful woman named Kim Nielsen, who organizes reunions for the Indianapolis survivors across the country. She’s also put together a presentation for schools, churches, and civic groups…teaching new generations about one of WWII’s blackest holes. She heard the song and asked if she could use it to make a video montage as part of her program. I was honored.

I bring this up now because there was recently a “Jaws Marathon” on TV, and it’s a movie I can’t help but watch no matter the time, which is why I find myself extremely sleep deprived at the moment, as I’ve stayed up into the wee wee hours the past two nights….watching it 3 times.

And now I find myself revisiting a song I’ve always been very proud of….

The Indianapolis
by Tom Flannery
copyright 2004

Who on earth knows why
some men live and some men die
he was a better man than I
or would have been…we were boys
We were nearly twelve hundred souls
watching how war takes it’s toll
it hates to watch the young grow old
it seeks and destroys

To Tinian we were bound
to deliver the end from above the ground
never knew a thing never heard a sound
get her there on time
then we pushed for more
and torpedoes from the ocean floor
cut us in two with a mighty roar
in war nothing’s a crime

captain said “boys we gotta go”
900 jumped into the water below
those that could not see still could hear
when the Indianapolis….she disappeared

We thought they’d come when the sun it rose
but the sharks they gathered and the world it froze
10 footers from the tail to the nose
well this was not war
Some boys thrashed and some lay prone
some were bit in half some left alone
all we had to give was flesh and bone
tell me what are you fighting for?

For 4 days we died
some floated away when the night flew by
others with madness in their eye
I can still hear the sounds
calls for loved ones in the air
and whoops for things that just weren’t there
the chattering teeth and the Lord’s prayer
with the devil all around

That PV-1 finally came
called the PBY and the ships the same
you learn about luck in war
’cause we weren’t exactly what they were looking for

317 survived
so there’s that many men asking why
how do I live when I’ve watched men die?
where did they all go?
you may seek to blame
state your case…make your claim
stick your goddamn brass up in a frame
because you’ll never know

Now I’m an old man
still never got further than the sand
dreams can bring me back and force my hand
like it was yesterday
Put a seashell to my ear
grandson says “pappa what do you hear?”
I’ll turn so he can’t see the tear
someone tell me what to say

captain said “boys we gotta go”
900 jumped into the water below
317 survived
so there’s that many men asking why

Who on earth knows why
some men live and some men die
he was a better man than I
or would have been…we were boys