GRAYSON HUGH

(Originating from a poem of the same title, "Bluewhite" definitely has a cinematic quality to it. The words, along with the evocative music, take the listener on a journey through those "small stick towns" of Connecticut, where the mills have long since shut down, through woods of birch, maple, oak and sycamore, past falling-down barns, fields and stone walls, pausing to look across a valley from one hill to another "where the snow in the shell of the afternoon is a cold bluewhite". One is reminded of the Winter scenes in the paintings such as "The Hunters In The Snow" by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. The "bluewhite" effect happens when long shadows cast by trees fall on the freshly fallen snow. The best time to see this is when the sun comes out after a good nor-easter storm, from 11 am to 3 pm at the latest in January and February. It's a distinctly Connecticut thing, where there are an abundance of small hills and valleys.)
 
BLUEWHITE
words & music by Grayson Hugh




Here we are now

driving through these small stick towns

on a winter day

thin trees on the hill snow

grey wood bone 

stumps and driftwood on the frozen pond

crow stands on a pine top

shall we follow this falling

of winter light?

and go where it takes us

into the late day

where the snow

in the shell of the afternoon

is a cold bluewhite

then toast the twilight

pale indigo

 

Up in the cornstub fields

grey hulls of barns sleeping

leaning old

owls know where the moon is

the pale iris imprint bloom

the town is melting

pull our windows down

hear the tires whisper black wet smooth

the brook is rising

up the stone mill wall

and deep in the forest

where the dirt road goes

by the high cliff banks

the moss is showing

beneath the snow

 

I look at you

you you you you baby

my heart starts to bloom

bloom bloom bloom bloom bloom baby

cold bluewhite

 

To the distant fields

our eyes travel over the valley

to those bruegel woods

where the worn light's blurring

the candle glow of a foxes’ fur

by the stone wall spine

stars are growing

to where shall we go

in the shadow of the night?

somewhere foreign

and far away

at four o'clock in the morning

by the lake hill shapes

we're wide awake

just our small voices

snow brume pines

 

I look at you

you you you you baby

my heart starts to bloom

bloom bloom bloom bloom bloom baby

I love you

you you you you you baby

I love you

you you you you you baby

cold bluewhite

 

© 2010 by Swamp Yankee Music/ASCAP