Two albums are available to listen and download now at Bandcamp.com. "Our Sentiment Reins" is all original folk style songs, and "Searching for that Mountain Tay" is a collection of traditional Irish songs sung by yours truly with Maud Taber-Thomas. Check them out!

Folk Songs

I have always loved poetic language, and, given my musical proclivities, I find the greatest joy in exploring and expressing poetry in the form of folk songs.

I am particularly fond of traditional Irish poetry and music, and the pub settings in which they are shared.

I was brought up on the songs of the great American singer-songwriters of the 1960s, like Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, and Paul Simon. I use that sound/language world as a starting point for my own poetic musings.

And check out my folk duo with Maud Taber-Thomas: Mountain Tay!

You can also support Mountain Tay by leaving us a tip if you enjoyed one of our performances live or on video, thanks!

Originals

An Old Man Named Theseus

"The aroma of whiskey reaches up from the glass whose beads of condensation travel with me to the past as I ask of these wonders I left so much for to see, Were they really anywhere? and, Is that really me?

It’s a younger man’s mind snuck his ship out in the morn, leaving sweet Ariadne cryin’ on the shore, just to pile on more treasure for a greater name to rule. People still call him a hero, but I say he’s a fool. And the glitter of the thread was the dance young eyes perceived, but what led them through the Labyrinth was the weave of a trust that knows even gold and honor turn to dust.

All the skin on those hands has withered away, leaving something so wrinkled, how can it be the same? Every rotting plank replaced; every ship just empty form; every moment of life is a raindrop in a storm. And the glitter of the thread was so easy to believe. It’s hard to see that guiding is the weave of a trust that knows we all watch our glories turn to dust.

So the meaning of my name will never be up to me. That’s something even swift Achilles before his wrath could see. And now these old eyes only marvel at that confidence of youth in abandoning the closest they’d ever be to truth. And the glitter of the thread will be all young eyes perceive. They’ll never see that guiding is the weave of a trust that knows even gold and honor turn to dust.

All my gold and my glory now are dust.”

Snowflakes

Written on the occasion of a snowfall on March 21st.

"Snowflakes falling on the first day of Spring. I wonder, do they worry they won't amount to anything. Or do they revel in refracted bliss as they glide through Then and That with twinkling mischief saying, 'Fools, there's only ever this!"

Plans flake off the frame of some fantastic space. Umbrellas, blades of grass, and noses rise to take its place. Wind and air now are paint and canvas here, playing light and playing on your slippy fear that the painter inside is just as mere.

Measure what you will, judgment is a feat of pure imagination tracing patterns in a beat that you dance to in a mirror. If you watch the snowflakes fall, you might see that wonder is ever here in all.

Freezing time, we curl up by the window steam and feel the crystal structures of a wordless dream. Light, life, weather, chance, intention, chemistry, and fractal ripples branching in the endless tree missed in the midst of time's subtle artistry.

Tomorrow, names will matter once again, to sorrow of us conditioned by this Then. Crossing back into the crossing out of lists and plans now piled in place of all our melted mist steps that could be why what was ever whist."

Philosopher's Wind in the Willow

I wrote new lyrics to the traditional Irish ballad "Wind in the Willow" to describe my favorite philosophers (or, in the case of the final verse, philosophical method) in ballad style. See if you can tell which historical philosopher goes with each verse!

"As I went a-wandering a dark murky wood full of thoughts all assumed to be well understood, I met an old chap, and he told of a way that can never be captured by a name you can say. But yet we may know it and follow a-pace if we notice the value of all empty space. Then he told many stories and riddles and jokes, and advised me to live as the simplest folks.

Like the wind in the willow and the birds in the sky we've a bright sun to warm us wherever we lie. For the source of all meaning we embrace as we know that all meanings like rivers are made by their flow.

We came to a city where wonders abound and we met there a witty man, charming and round. With untroubled manner he explained how to look at all certainties given by nature or book: We are animals driven by our sentiment reins, and the knowledge we seek and appeal to remains, like the self and the causes that all seem so real, just our fictional tools more useful than wheels.

A forest of number then swirled in the wind, and a kind hearted lonely man bid us go in. He said there you'll find all the process you need for to copy the universe into a seed. For the manifestation is not what we are. If it were we'd be nothing but parts of a star. No, the light that we love is the shape of the dreams that we build and build us with their cycles and streams.

A clearing appeared then which seemed the way out from the hardest of puzzles: the progress of doubt. For here is the freedom for the web of my roots to expand and to prune for to make the right fruits. To a patient awareness and a noticing eye every skeptical joust is a place to refine our thought-cranes and castles that hoist and defend our place as designers of meaningful ends."

Irish Songs

Vocals: Maud Taber-Thomas and Matthew W Dayton. 

Instruments: Matthew W Dayton