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Gold Rush Town

by Kate Isenberg

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1.
It's best that I did not see you today, Because I looked too good for my own good, And I admit my intentions were just half true. I intended to press on you, in the space of an hour, All of the space that lay on the far side of the hour. It's best that I did not see you today, Because I have a lover too, And I know the world has other plans for me and you. But although this I'll own, our story is yet undone, And she must whirl us around before she sets us down. And all that I wanted of you was a tale with an end untold. All that I wanted of you was a tale untold. It's best that I did not see you today. Instead I picked up the family car, and I drove to the coast with my suddenly free hour. I took my time getting there, and I saw, along the road, the grass was blowing in the wind like fingers through its hair. And all that I wanted of you was a view from the Great Highway. All that I wanted of you was a great, great highway. It's best that I did not see you today, Because I was reminded of you telling me That every song's heart holds the same poetry. And it's best that I did not see you today, Because I finally reached the ocean, And I beheld the blue-green blend in harmony. And all that I wanted of you was a view of the ocean. All that I wanted of you was a view of the sea, And I guess in the end I did see you today.
2.
Make her wear a skirt that hides her knees, Comb her hair back, and tame the swarm of bees. When her thoughts alight upon those lips, Hold still her willful fingers in her lap. But I've got a promiscuous heart, An impetuous heart, a curious heart. And there's not a thing that I can do But mind her manners: believe that's what I do. Tell her, keep her poems to herself, Return the rhyme and the meter to the shelf. I tell her, put those letters in the drawer, Let that boy alone, not send him anymore. But I've got a promiscuous heart, An impetuous heart, a curious heart. And there's not a thing that I can do But mind her manners: believe that's what I do. Lock her up inside with guilt on her head— As fruitless as to ask a puppy to play dead. The wisest of rules only makes her fool more. The wildest of roses grows by the prison door. Pin a scarlet letter to her chest: Truth to advertise to all the rest. But no amount of shaming brings regret. As Hester loves her Pearl, so she loves her bed. She's my promiscuous heart, Impetuous heart, curious, ambitious, And there's not a thing that I can do But mind her manners: believe that's what I do.
3.
I've got an eyelash, I've got a candle, I've got a horseshoe, I've got a mantle: It makes me invisible as I move Into the magical. I know that I'm not the type of girl You're used to counting your lucky stars on, But you may find they were all moonshine, The kind that littered your skies, my darling. I know that I am not in your league, But I've got these seven-league boots. I've got a winning streak a mile long, I've got a knock on wood, I've got good luck, I've got a penny: it's more than enough to pay For all the wishes we'll make. I know that I'm not the type of girl You're used to counting your lucky stars on, But you may find they were all moonshine, The kind that littered your skies, my darling. I know that I am not in your league, But I've got these seven-league boots. I know that I'm not the type of girl You're used to counting your lucky stars on, But you may find they were all moonshine, The kind that littered your skies, my darling. I've got a dandelion I'm waiting to blow. Great expectations, I've got high hopes. I've got a prayer that's moving my feet. I know that I am not in your league, But I've got these seven-league boots.
4.
Did you hear our mystery girl today, and the big word she said in class? She didn't come with us after school to smoke cigarettes behind the wall. We saw her writing in a book, with a fancy pen, at the bus stop. Little Bill went to ask her what was up. She talked like a grown-up. She's gone serious; she has nixed the trickster once she was. In her diary, what does she have to say? Is it about us? She says she's documenting her life. We just laugh. Fifteen, we're going to live forever; we never worry about things like that. We don't know this girl: no make-up, but a face of Someone whose shoulders hold the world, kinda sad, or we don't know what. Some of us sneaked up to her house. We peeked in through the window. She was lying flat on the carpet, staring at the ceiling, doing nothing. She's gone serious; she doesn't have the time of day for us. She says she's afraid of wasting her life. We just laugh. Fifteen, we're going to live forever; we never worry about things like that. She's gone! She's gone serious! (Worry—what, us?) We tried to forget about her. Then, one day, she came around. Little Bill held out a cigarette, brand new—and she turned it down! She told jokes to make us laugh—well, at least she tried. But she was hiding all of her big words in her diary, with her precious life. She's gone serious; she can never be the one she was to us. In her diary, she's got a lot to say, not a bit about us. She says she's afraid of wasting her life. We just laugh. Fifteen, we're going to live forever; we never worry about things like that. Serious! (Worry—what, us?)
5.
Over the city, I saw you coming. I felt the key turn in the lock. I heard the weight lift from your shoulders And turn into music as you walked. Thus dreaming, I can't imagine Thinking you would never come, Thinking you would never. Never say never. When we were children, we could do magic And turn into fish in the swimming pool. Now, when it's dark, you tell me a story, When I awake I'll make you a fishing pole. Does telling make it so? If so, I am telling you. If so, I tell you: Never say never. The waters may be still today, But doves are talking on the telephone wires, Sending the message over the city, Till we tell the spell of a summer day. Thus dreaming, I can imagine Thinking you would come, thinking you will.
6.
Sweetheart 03:46
I washed the sheets today. The pillow hairs you left Are washed away in the Laundromat. They go on spinning there, with someone else's clothes. They look so different, they look so strange. Because I could not help myself, I watched the cycle spin In the two machines, side by side. That's all we are: two loads spinning separately, Trying to lose the stains of losing. Losing has no name, and still, I want to call you sweetheart. Take this nameless thing from the middle of my sweet heart. Pillow hairs are thin strings to hang a song upon. Metaphors slim things, they get it wrong. My words are little more than shades of gloss Without your lips, your lips I've lost. Losing has no words and still I want to tell you, sweetheart. Take this wordless thing from the middle of my sweet heart. To lose you is not not to have you. To lose you is not not anything at all. It just is, it just is, it just is. If all that is left me of you is this hurt, You better believe I'm going to spin it long. If all I can do is to call you sweetheart, If all I can do is sing silence this song, Don't believe I believe it's enough. Don't believe I believe I've said a word In a four-minute song about four years of us. This riff is not your kiss, this riff is not your hands, This riff is not what I miss, this riff is not a chance, This riff will never be your eyes, and this riff is not goodbye. Losing has no song, and still I want to sing you, sweetheart. Take this silent thing from the middle of my sweet heart.
7.
Robin 04:06
Robin by my window, will you be my love? I have room in my life for a bird like you. The room is yours for the night, My head under your wing. When morning comes, we won't speak, But through the glass we fly.
8.
Morning has broken, like an egg Crushed under the weight of all the other days. You would not believe the freight. But before the dawn broke, the dew fell on the park, Sparkling with newness and a feeling: There is something left to do, so much left to do. But if it's small, let it be small; Let it be almost nothing at all. Small will do; make do with small. New Year's: should old acquaintance be forgot, Reacquaint myself with doing less than I had thought. Mind the space. Happy New Year is an old fool, Dancing at a wake where others cry for what is gone. Cheers to what is here; cheers to what's still here. Cheers to being here. And if that's small, let it be small; Let it be almost nothing at all. Small cheer; cheers to the small. Let us now praise famous men Who won over the blankness of the page and made us wonder, Is there something left to say? But who's brave? Is it the famous, Or a no one who would dare to make a mark upon the page And to say something, say one thing? And if that's small, let it be small; Let it be almost nothing at all. Cheers to the small. Cheers.
9.
Jimmy was my little boyfriend. We were 11. Going steady was the new trend; he'd not be left out. I never knew why Jimmy chose my brown hair and freckles. Could it be we ran the same speed in races at recess? I was the luckiest girl. Jimmy blew my tomboy world. Sing for Jim, once kingpin of the playground. Are you still the biggest fish in a small pond, Or are you a middle-aged man with haunted eyes, Boys on skateboards pass you by? Is there a soul in all the wide world who does not quake To look inside the dark locker, the dark heart of the fifth grade? I held on for my life to the thread of a brand name. I made a shelf for my life on the heft of little Jimmy's name. He was the luckiest boy, and his youth, the shiniest of toys. Sing for Jim, once kingpin of the playground. Are you still the biggest fish in a small pond, Or are you a middle-aged man with haunted eyes, Boys on skateboards pass you by? The bell is tolling for Jim now. School's out. High school's coming soon, and the man you'll be swoops down. You can't fight that darkling bird, But you can fight your ugly duckling girl. One summer day before the sixth grade, Jimmy called to make his break. I could hear other boys on the line, cackling jackals. What had I done but give a damn? Unforgivable! For this, their gossip sicked me good, cruel and unusual. I'd turn those jackals' heads today, and I'd be laughing on my way. But to look in Jimmy's face, I'd quake, and I would match him pace for pace. I would sing for Jim, once kingpin of the playground. See, you're still the biggest fish in this small pond. Summer days, I see you haunting the minimart, Stealing gum or some unwanted little girl's heart. You were always fast, fast as a summer day. But you are slow, slow as shame, to fade away.
10.
When I met you, I resolved I would not like you very much at all. You seemed like possible trouble, possible trouble that I did not need at all. How wise was I: so I told myself at the time. How wise. Not I, the lovesick fool who, chasing fireflies, catches empty hands. To be sure, you're bright, but no, not I. Oh no, not I. This steeled was I in my reserve, I stole a glance if only to observe The scars and sugar on your wings, and shadows subtler than any color. How blind was I, disliking. Trouble never shimmered half so fine. Is it possible that I could be a lovesick fool, chasing fireflies? Oh yes, said I. Because in those lovely dark designs, I saw a lot I recognized, And to my greatest surprise, I realized: In some endearing light, we are two of a kind. Possible trouble, in kind. How wise now am I? So though this lovesick fool knows chasing fireflies catches empty hands Or, dead upon a pin, a bow of colored dust, still I lust for fireflies.
11.
I guess this means you're home alone on your birthday. A little bird tells me you're feeling a birthday shade of blue. Well, I see it's true. Well, well. It's a good thing that I found you. Hey, celebrate, it's your birthday! We'll go out and buy you a big cake. You'll say all the things you want to say. No need to hold back, it's your birthday. Say what you want—it's your birthday. This day comes but once a year. Who made such a silly rule? And if it seems too much to bear, then I declare Tomorrow will be another birthday for you. Hey, come on out, it's your birthday! No need to hide inside—you're famous. Have another drink. It's on us. No one's watching you now. Do what you want, it's your birthday. And many, many, many, many, many more.
12.
Time's the only currency I never overspend in this gold rush town. Time's the only poker hand I'd bet it all to win in this gold rush town. Time's the only home I can afford to own in this gold rush town. Like a pioneer, I traveled for years to make it here. I traveled the wilds, and when I arrived, I brought a city in my mind. I brought a city in my mind, and there a city still abides. Time's the only lover I can tell forever in this gold rush town. Time's the only open mouth where I both live and drown in this gold rush town. Time's all the forgiveness that I have ever found in this gold rush town. Like the fog that holds the city at night, my love is blind. It clings to the brightest windowsill, where strings of light repel the chill. And yet what glitters may be real, and so, my lover, I will. Time's the bus that gets me to the best is yet to come, somewhere in this gold rush town. Time is there collecting toll on each and every road. I'm getting old in this gold rush town. Time has jumped my claim to the vein of maybe someday in this gold rush town. A storyline divides me from the man on the street, With his cup of change. If he is deranged, well, so am I. I've got a city in my mind. I've got a city in my mind, and there I will abide. Time has washed the pastels into dirty watercolors in what's almost a ghost town now. But the roads are paved in gold, so I was always told about this gold rush town. Well, what do you know—the pavement does appear to glow when the rain comes down.

credits

released April 1, 2010

All songs written by Kate Isenberg.
Arranged and coproduced by Kate Isenberg and Jon Evans.
Engineered by Jon Evans at San Pablo Recorders, Berkeley, CA.
Additional engineering by Kate Isenberg at her fort in San Francisco.
Mixed by Jon Evans.
Mastered by Michael Romanowski.

Kate Isenberg: acoustic and electric guitars; banjo (track 1, 12); mandolin (1, 9); vocals; percussion (1, 8); violin (4, 8); glockenspiel (4, 8, 11); bells (4).
Aaron Brinkerhoff: drums (all tracks but 11).
Fergus D. Lenehan: electric bass (1, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10).

Special guests:
Jon Evans: acoustic bass (5, 7, 12); electric bass (7); electric rhythm guitar (10); lap steel (1, 12); drum loop (6); toy piano (2); piano (1, 2, 5, 7, 11, 12).
Julie Wolf: accordion (9); organ (1, 4, 8); piano (6).
Erik Jekabson: flugelhorn (6); trumpet (5).
Marcie Brown: cello (2, 5, 12).
Zack Pitt-Smith: clarinet (9).
Christina Bozzini, Jo Lansdown, Joelle Mitchell, Lynn Rapoport, Cheryl Smith, Kyle Walsh:
clapping brigade (8, 10).

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Kate Isenberg Los Angeles, California

Los Angeles-based Kate Isenberg’s lyrics recall Joni Mitchell; her alternate-tuning guitar riffs, the dexterity and accessibility of John Mayer. On stage, Isenberg captivates audiences with an emotionally direct presence akin to Sufjan Stevens or Laura Veirs.
Her albums have received critical recognition and nationwide radio play. She has toured top songwriter venues around the U.S.
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