I went to the CD release party of a favourite local(ish) musician tonight, Ron Hawkins (no, not that one - this one) ex of The Lowest of the Low.

His new solo CD, 10 Kinds of Lonely, has a song on it called D.F.W. (listening link and lyrics below, or as near as I could transcribe them). He said that when he started writing the song he had meant it to be about words and their ambiguity, how they can be taken in a good or bad way, but by the time he got to the last verse it D.F.W. had crept into it and that was that.

During the acoustic set, which was the highlight of the evening for me, I have never seen any musician command such silence and rapt attention from an audience. He's a very clever lyricist, and has a wonderfully husky voice - very emotional and evocative. I find it almost impossible to ignore him. It's not that he commands or demands your attention, but more that he just has you from the first note.

Listen (will open a new window)

D.F.W.
Ron Hawkins

Don't remember who wrote,
Was it St. Peter or St. Paul?
"Into every life
A little shit's gonna fall."
Well I've been unfair,
And you've been untrue,
What the hell?
What are we gonna do?

We wrote that book,
That angry almanac.
Words you should never say,
Meet the things you can never take back.
Sad sleight of hand,
Cruel, callous cracks,
Hollow hollers,
And countless counter-attacks.

Took a walk past your home,
That old place on Virtue Street.
Didn't take me too long,
It's just eight houses, a lane, some trees.
And why's that street so small?
It ain't no mystery.
Seems like living on virtue's the hardest place to be.

Woke up on Sunday morning,
With a freight train on my chest.
Evangelically alone,
Just me and that old infinite jest.
Words can feel like stones,
Words can be a noose,
Godspeed, D.F.W.

Words can take you home,
Words can make you choose,
Godspeed, D.F.W.