From now until January 11, Writers Talking - a series of eight conversations from our archives.
In one of our most popular podcasts recorded in August 2021, Earle Peach talks with us about writing songs and shares some of his music. Peach is the director of three Vancouver-based choral groups including the High and Lows Choir and Solidarity Notes Labour Choir. He also plays a bunch of instruments and performs with musical groups but he says he identifies most strongly as a songwriter. Questions to the Moon is published by Lazara Press.
(upbeat music) - Hello and welcome to today's episode of Red Eye. I'm Jane Williams. If you've ever been at the vent or a rally where the solidarity notes labor choir is singing, you'll have seen Earl Peach. He's the one standing at the front and keeping everyone in time. Earl is the director of this and other Vancouver-based choral groups including the highs and lows choir. He also plays a bunch of instruments, performs with musical groups and sings songs. In his new book, Questions to the Moon, he says songwriting is his strongest self-identification. The book is a collection of stories and lyrics just published by Lazarus Press. And Earl joins me today to talk about the book and the songs he writes. Hello, Earl. - Hello. - When did you first start writing songs? - I think I wrote the first song that I recall at the age of nine. I think the words were, "You may say hello." And I may say goodbye and I may never say the reason why. - Not a lengthy work then. - No, but suitably mordant. How did you choose as many, many lyrics in the book? How did you choose the lyrics to include in the book? - Well, it's being a process of compromise and winnowing because I have many more songs than this. And often I look at the collection that's there and think, "Oh, geez, I wish I had included this." But the ones that I came up with are sort of a representative sample of different areas of songwriting and different ideas that I've had. - Did the song lyrics suggest the prose pieces or vice versa? - No, I think the song lyrics gave a pretty good sense of what I should speak about in terms of the biography. I find that there are certain number of songs about X. And so it's probably useful to speak about X. For example, there are a number of songs that were influenced by my experiences in the downtown east side. And so it was important to tell some stories about that. I would say the songs came first and the autobiography came second. - Now you mentioned the downtown east side and it's clear from reading the book that the Carnegie Center has played a central role in your life. I'm gonna ask you a big question here. What did you learn about politics and music working there? - Oh, well, you know, there was a very interesting element to that, that being able to sing and to choose the space that you do that, to occupy the space that you're producing music in is a political act. And it's political in the sense that people have a sense of ownership of that. It allows them to enlarge their space in such a ways to include others within range of their voice. And so people at Carnegie, when they participated in the jams, they were always very particular about who it was they wanted to play with, what songs they were going to do, how long they were gonna be on the stage, whether they were gonna be on the stage, you know? So it was regarded as almost like a commodity. It was so precious to them. And then of course, they're the aspects of shared music and what that means in the context of the community. Though that was also very interesting. How did the jams work? - So people would show up at the beginning of the jam and put their name in a hat and names would be drawn out. And as each name was drawn out, the person would be asked what time they would like to perform and it's understood that they would be there for a 10 or 12 or 15 minutes slot, depending on how many people were wanting to play. And for that time, they would choose what was being played, who was gonna be playing with them, what instruments were going to be up there, whether somebody was singing long or whatever. So it would give them a measure of control over that space for that time. - You also started up a brass band for the downtown east side. Though you handed it over at some point. How did that come about? - It just, it seemed to me that it would be something really valuable for the downtown east side to have. And so I started making inquiries. And first of all, I contacted a fellow from Northwest Music who said that they had about 10 instruments that they didn't need anymore. And so there was an initial donation of those. Somebody told me about a band that had existed in Alberta called the Tiger Hills Band and how that had broken up years before and all of those instruments had been sitting in somebody's garage for 40 years. And incredibly, they agreed to donate them. And so these two pallets of brass instruments showed up at Carnegie, all wrapped in huge swaths of plastic tape. So we unwrapped them and started looking at them and some of them were just good for planters. There was a big sousaphone that was really just no more. And some, these instruments when they get really old, they get something inside them called Red Rod, which means that you can't play them. It will really do a number on your lungs. But we did get about 12 perfectly usable instruments out of those. And so some people in the downtown, you started actually playing these. And I was learning as I was going. I'd never played a brass instrument in my life. I drove our neighbor downstairs crazy, unfortunately, with the trombone. And we kind of learned as we went. And eventually I had the brains to get somebody actually competent to run the whole thing. And it's still going. - I've heard it perform, actually, at the Moon Festival in Renfrew Park. - Yes, led by the amazing Mr. Bradmearhead. - That's right. - And it's a wonderful thing. - I asked you to pick a couple of songs to share with us. Let's listen to one of them now. It's called "After the War." How did you come to write this song? - You know, it's interesting that some of the songs that I've written, of which I am most fond, I have discovered among the many Sebelius files that I've fooled around with at one point or another. At some point I sat down and started writing this tune, and then I completely forgot about it. And discovered it about maybe three or four years later, and thought, "Oh, I really should finish this." And so I came along that way. But as often as not, I have no idea what the song is about when I start the story. So it begins with the words, "After the War," my limbs were sore, I couldn't dance to the fiddle, my father lay down in his bed, and lay there for 13 years until he died. And once I saw that, that had been written, it, again, just brought a whole bunch of associations and images in my mind, and I carried it through it. - Let's listen to that now. (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) ♪ After the War, my limbs were sore, I couldn't dance to the fiddle, my father lay down in his bed, and didn't rise for 13 years till he died. ♪ ♪ All the crops were studded and brown, we couldn't drink from the wells, we had to go down to the gorge and carry up our pockets from the river side. ♪ ♪ And is that enough? ♪ ♪ Do you want some more? ♪ ♪ Do you remember what all the anger was for? ♪ ♪ We have lost the stars while keeping score? ♪ ♪ Can I convince you we don't need another one? ♪ ♪ The sun was born without any eyes, we took the trade to the city ♪ ♪ And waited in line with a thousand families grieving out the doors. ♪ ♪ Doctors eyes were tired and grey, she said they poisoned the bombs ♪ ♪ And every day I see a hundred children broken like yours. ♪ ♪ And is that enough? ♪ ♪ Do you want some more? ♪ ♪ Do you remember what all the anger was for? ♪ ♪ We have lost the stars while keeping score? ♪ ♪ Can I convince you we don't need another one? ♪ ♪ Someday someday someday someday someday we'll know ♪ ♪ You will touch your bone to the fiddle string ♪ ♪ And our child will know how to dance and sing ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Now November rolls around, we wear our coats in the kitchen ♪ ♪ We walled off a room and abandoned the rest of the house of two winter times. ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ I'm in place the violin, he has the voice of an angel ♪ ♪ And sings with the group of traditional musicians from both sides ♪ ♪ And is that enough? ♪ ♪ Do you want some more? ♪ ♪ Do you remember what all the anger was for? ♪ ♪ We have lost the stars while keeping score ♪ ♪ Can I convince you we don't need another one? ♪ ♪ Can I convince you we don't want another one? ♪ ♪ ♪ And that was "After the War" by Aliterati. When you were talking about how you came to write this song, it occurred to me, do you start with the words? Or do you start with the tune, or does it go together, or is it different each time? It is different each time. If you start with the words and add music to them, then to start it with music and add words. And I'm not even sure why. And every once in a while, a piece will come like a whole cloth. Words and music all at the same time, and no clue why. But I have been known over time to have a snatch of a song occur to me in a dream and then wake up from it. More often, waking up and having a piece of music immediately just jump into my head and demand to be written down. And that's one of the things that it gives me a feeling of having some purpose almost in the sense that it feels almost like a communication from somewhere else. I know that's theoretically nonsense, but when I treat it that way, when I honor it that way, it feels satisfying to me. What do you hope people would do with the songs in the book? I mean, there are some scores at the end, but only a few. Yes. And I kind of hoped that the scores themselves would give an indication to people of how I work and how it looks for this music to be put down on paper, the instrumental sections in between what it would be like playing it with other people because many of them I've done with my band, Illiterati, and also with Barbara, my partner as a song tree. So I thought it was important for people to be able to have a look at at least some of those. I know you most of all as a leader of community choirs, but that doesn't figure much in the book. Well, it's true, and it's because the book is about a different side of myself, I guess, and it's one that people don't know as much about, but it's one that's very personal and important to me. So I guess it's a way of introducing myself to people in a different way. Now, the second song that you chose and the one that we're going to go out on is about your wife, Barbara. Tell me about this song. So this was written actually for Barbara's 73rd birthday, and it is quite autobiographical in the sense that it does describe our room, but then it turns it into kind of a metaphor for a ship that we're moving forward on through uncertain waters through our lives, as is true of so many relationships. Thanks so much for joining me today, Earl. Well, thank you so much for having me, that's been a lot of fun. I've been speaking with Earl Peach. His new book of Stories and Lyrics is titled Questions to the Moon, and it's just been published by Lazarus Press. And on August 28th, there's going to be a picnic for all three of Earl's choirs, and a book launch event in Beacon's Field Park, which is behind the Italian Cultural Center, and it's starting around 4pm. And now here is Song Tree with, if not here, then nowhere. Two. When Barbara Wilkins in the morning, shafts of sunlight, come piercing through the glues. A hundred rainbows are adorning, the glowing walls come our sacred room. Outside a window, all the birds cry, like navigators on the ships of green. And in our own boat, she and I lie, all entwined, where troubles can't be seen. This is the answer to the question, that your land is cranging in the air. This is the meaning of an all, if not here, then nowhere. Sometimes I wonder where the dawn is, when the night falls and colors disappear. It gets so hard to see beyond this, solid darkness around me and my dear. And we will travel with our compass, sink the mind in, hearing through the dark. Making decisions never stop us, may we sail past every question mark. This is the answer to the question, that your land is cranging in the air. This is the meaning of an all, if not here, then nowhere, then nowhere, then nowhere. The Red Eye Collective is based in Vancouver, you can check us out at co-opradio.org/redeye. [MUSIC PLAYING] You
From now until January 11, Writers Talking - a series of eight conversations from our archives.
In one of our most popular podcasts recorded in August 2021, Earle Peach talks with us about writing songs and shares some of his music. Peach is the director of three Vancouver-based choral groups including the High and Lows Choir and Solidarity Notes Labour Choir. He also plays a bunch of instruments and performs with musical groups but he says he identifies most strongly as a songwriter. Questions to the Moon is published by Lazara Press.
