Artist: Amy Correia
Song: The Bike
Album: Carnival Love (2000)
Tactile experiences played a prominent role in Los Angeles singer/songwriter Amy Correia's construction of a song. Sometimes, the imagery took her back to a childhood memory as was the case with the bearded lady winking at a tattooed man in her song "Carnival." Other times, a poem did the trick. "Daydream Car" came from poet Patrick Cavanaugh's The Hunger. A Louisiana nightclub experience helped to produce the mournful song "Blind River Boy." Correia, from Lakeville, MA, made waves with her 2000 debut CD, Carnival Love (Capitol), with its richly melodic mix of mournful tales and whimsical stories created from a childlike, imaginary dreamworld. Her background as a short story writer and lover of literature surely contributed to the emotional depth of her songs. She confessed a love for short stories by writers as diverse as James Joyce, Ernest Hemingway, and Flannery O'Connor, whose writings she explored as a student at Barnard College. more
The honeyed rasp of Massachusetts native Amy Correia is the perfect vehicle for the sharp melodic sense and captivating imagery that's on display throughout her debut. Highlighted by the endlessly striking likes of "Daydream Car" and "The Bike", Carnival Love introduces a performer with an intriguing future. --Rickey Wright
In an era of ethereal female singer-songwriters, Amy Correia's Carnival Love marks the arrival of a talent whose concerns are rooted in the earthly. In a voice that at once conveys a sense of both itch and scratch--and often accompanied, Waits-like, by her own baritone ukelele--this East Coaster delivers tales of damaged people (the devastated Korean War vets of "Chinatown" and "The Bike," the grownup "crying in a company car" in "Angels Collide") and dented romance ("Gin," "Starfishin'"). Even Correia's moments of escape and whimsy are fully grounded; "Daydream Car" acknowledges that hanging out is a game best played by two, while "Carnival" updates "Wild Billy's Circus Story." Correia is outstanding in a crowded field. --Rickey Wright
I became the heiress to a red and rusted bicycle
Built like a tank from Sears Roebuck circa 1952
It had been entrusted to me by my late great uncle Pat
And I guess he didn't ride it much
Both tires on the bike were flat
Pat had died at Christmas time in 1991
He had fallen off the wagon
And he sunk into a Christmas funk
My father he had found him
Two days after he had died
Well he drank himself to death one night
In a little home he owned by the seaside
So I took the bike and I cleaned it up
My father he patched up the tires
Am I going to town or just spinning my wheels
And when I die I wonder how it feels
Hey and I'm riding around riding around on it
Hey just riding around riding around on it
Hey you know I'm riding around
riding around on it. Hey!
The funeral service was a few days later
At a place down the street from where he had lived
There wasn't a hell of a turn out
He had never married and he never had kids
The coffin lid was open
Pat was lying inside
His sister had a picture of a poodle named Pepper
She put it in his hand and then she cried
Now I'm riding around in the city
Through the smog and the summer heat
And I'm blowing through all the red lights
I guess you could say I'm feeling lucky
And the taxis and the trucks
Everybody's blowin' their horns
And I got a bicycle bell to ring
And I got a notion to sing as I'm riding along
Well I didn't even really know him at all
And I wonder can he see me
As I'm riding along
Riding along
The day that Pat was buried
The air was cold and clear
And we drove out to the cemetery
And snow flew around in the air
And a hired man from the State
He played taps on a coronet
And a flag was presented to his sister
For time in the service that Pat had spent
When he used to ride on the bike
Way back in 52
He was starting out a life
And the bike it was brand new
And life was laid before him like
a platter before a king
He was young and he was handsome
and the world was alive with meaning
The world was alive with meaning
No comments:
Post a Comment