- Dean Stevens

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Dean Stevens
I am in love with the grain in the wood in the trees
Rooted in the ground
That got cut down some time ago
So this guitar might sound
Here is my tribute to fine luthiers everywhere, especially
the ones who are my friends, Gordy Bischoff and Nick
Apollonio, who crafted very special instruments for me..
as well as the ones I haven’t met yet, whose creations I
will love every day of my life: Michael Millard, Jean
L’Arrivee, CF Martin, and Mickey Sussman
I am amazed by the artist’s grace of cut, measure,
grind, polish, sand
That has patiently undressed the wood’s secret magic
Ah, the luthier’s skillful hands.
I’m blown away by the alchemy: that steel wrapped in
bronze
And wood cut from trees
Could intertwine to find such mystery
That they’d combine to bring a sound that rings
around my mind
And teaches me to reach deep into my soul
From wood and strings, come sounds
They fly, they are rooted in the ground
Voices ring, near and far
We can sing with the strength of strings on the guitar
The strength of the strings on the guitar
The strings on the guitar
I’ve come to know that there’s a fountain there that
flows, it always flows
But I can’t get used to the way that it leads me on
And beckons to follow on down that balmy path
I never question, never ask, I’ll go, I’ll just go.
I love to run my hands across your strings
I love to fly with each new set of wings that you will
give me
I will be ready to go
I stand in wonderment, Oh tell me why did I deserve
a gift to lift me up so high?
All you builders of fine instruments
You ply your trade and noone but the players know
your names
So I will praise you here
The hours you slaved away
So I could get up here and play
And try to find the words to say I am indebted to you
Thank you, George Lowden,
Thank you Jean L’Arrivee
Gordy Bischoff, CF Martin
I am thanking you every day
Thank you rosewood, thank you cedar
Mahogany, ebony, bronze and steel
Thank you trees, Oh, thank you metals,
Thank you, hands that made this real
Thank you hands that made this real
May I never take you for granted
May I your sweet mysteries know
May I see that the seeds are planted
May your seedlings’ forests grow
May your seedlings rainforest grow.
©1993 Dean Stevens Music (bmi)
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Aileen Vance
There is no freedom, the wise man said,
Let justice roll down, roll down
When the poor cry out for shelter and bread
Let justice roll down like a mighty stream
Aileen, this song has brought me and so many others
such enormous joy! I sing it everywhere I go, with
all kinds of ensembles. And thanks Bob Lucas, for
your soaring gospel touch!! Y’all, check out her link
below. For more about Bob’s amazing music, look
at his website.
Step by step and one by one
Let justice roll down, roll down
They can kill the prophet but the dream lives on
Let justice roll down like a might stream.
Oh, children, don’t you get weary
Walk together, believe in the dream
When the way gets rough, we will make a new way
Let justice roll down like a mighty stream
www.members.cruzio.com/~avandlt/
www.boblucasmusic.com
Hatred will never drive out hate
Let love roll down, roll down
Remember our hearts can make us great
Let love roll down like a mighty stream
When brutality threatens our daughters and sons
Let peace roll down, roll down
May our voices ring out above the guns
Let peace roll down like a mighty stream
When fists rise up to strike a blow
Let songs roll down, roll down
May the poets remind us of what we know
Let songs roll down like a mighty stream
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Oh children, don’t you get weary,
Walk together, believe in the dream
When the way gets rough, we will make a new way
Let justice roll down like a mighty stream.
© 2004 Aileen Vance/Avenida Music
http://members.cruzio.com/~avandlt
Bernardo Palombo
I met Bernardo (originally from Argentina) many years
ago, on the Clearwater, where we were both volunteering.
He tells me that he wrote this song for Sesame Street, an
eco-song for kids of all ages. It was also recently recorded by
Dan Zanes. I’m in good company!! His website, below,
will put you up to date with Bernardo’s many New York
City mischiefs.
www.tallerlatino.org
Hay agua en la tierra y hay agua en el cielo
Hay agua en la lluvia que moja el sombrero
Hay agua que sube y hay agua que baja
Hay agua en el charco del patio de la casa
Hay agua en el lago y hay agua en el rio
Hay agua en los mares, y en el vaso mio
Hay agua en piragua y agua en Nicaragua
Hay agua en paraguas y agua en Paraguay
Hay agua en la savia que va en la madera
Hay agua en la harina, que se convierte en pan
There is water in the ground and water in the sky
There is water in the rain that falls o my hat
There is water that rises, water that falls
There is water in the mudpuddle in my front yard
There is water in the lake, water in the streams
There is water in the oceans, and water in my glass
There is water in the canoe, water in Nicaragua
There is water on the umbrella, and in Paraguay
There is water in the sap that flows through the wood
And water in the dough that becomes bread
Cuida el agua
Cuidala
Take care of the water…
© 1999 Bernardo Palombo Americanto (ascap).
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Bill Burnett
Bill Burnett lives in California, and churns out song
after brilliant song, funny, amazing, hard hitting,
beautifully performed by an amazing quartet named
The Backboners, (Bill, Suzy Williams, Ginger
Smith, Kahlil Sabbagh). Lots of others including,
Bette Middler, and now, Yours Truly, have performed Bill’s stunning songs!! His way cool website,
www.billburnette.com, will also steer you to info
about the Backboners.
I’ve been wishing for a magical breeze
Let it blow, let it blow my way
Hear it swishing through the tropical trees
Let it blow, let it blow my way
Let it blow my way
Oooh, let it blow, let it blow, let it blow my way
Let it blow my way
There’s a ripple moving over the pond
Let it….
Like a signal from the great beyond
Let it…
www.billburnett.com
I’ve been tryin just to fly my kite for a long long time
Keep on tryin cuz I think I might catch a breeze this
time
And when the breeze comes a rushing through
Let it blow, let it blow my way
It’s gonna lift me, gonna lift you too
Let it…
© Bill Burnett (ascap)
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Dillon Bustin
At age 8, us kids learned a chapter from the New
Testament as a birthday gift for our Mom. It was
what she wanted, and she got it. Dillon Bustin
used the Apostle Paul’s same words from First
Corinthians 13 to build this memorably inspiring
theme for a Unitarian Coming of Age Ceremony,
first performed at the Old Ship Meeting House,
Hingham, ma, June 1998.
When I was a child I spoke as a child
My thoughts and understandings were a child’s
Now that I am grown, I set out on my own
And I put away my childish things
Where is that perfect place
Of faith and charity and hope
Where we may know God face to face
Not dimly, not so dimly, as through a telescope?
When I was a child….
Except for that bear on the bed
The one by the pillow where I lay my head
He’s been there to help me through
And I want to keep him with me too
Except for that chalice flame
The sacred one that burns without a name;
It’s been there to help me through
And I really really really want to keep it with me too
When I was a child….
When I was a child….
I put away my childish things
Except for those balls in the yard
The ones that I hit and kicked at really hard
They’ve been there to help me through
And I really want to keep them with me too
So darkly, face to face, now we see it through a glass
darkly,
Then shall we know it face to face.
When I was a child….
© 1998 Dillon Bustin (bmi)
Except for my trusted friends
The ones who taught me how to make amends
They’ve been there to help me through
And I really really want to keep them with me too
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Dean Stevens
I never watched as soldiers
cut my family to the ground
I never fled to hills not looking back
at my village burning down
I never heard the rat-tat bullets seek me from the sky
Never saw my children hungry and so weak they
could not cry
In 1991 I heard the heartbreaking stories of villagers
in El Salvador caught up in the ugly US sponsored
conflict during the 1980s. This song is about the
tranformative impact that those stories had on me.
I remain very connected to these folks, as well as to
those who have left to work in the US and Europe.
If you ever want to visit these villages, I will take
you there. I go every six months. Info at www.
deanstevens.com
I once met some people, who told me of these things
Tales so dark to blacken the heart,
Tales to cry more than to sing
And I can see their faces, and I know their names
And the day I heard their stories I knew I’d never be
the same
I never slept in hunger on a bed of rain and stone
I never felt the dark of dew
that chilled me to the marrow bone
I always thought that cold of night
would melt with warmth of day
Never knew that memories might be wounds that
never will go away
I never knew the misery many live through every day
I never asked for a clean slate, to wash this all away
I never shook my fist at God,
why me this fate would deal?
But I hope and pray a brighter day,
some future may reveal
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For so many people taught me so many things,
Their dreams so bright will lighten the night, and
tears of joy to these eyes bring
And I have seen their eyes that gleam,
and I know their children’s names
And the day I heard their stories
I knew I’d never be the same.
And I swear that by their stories
I will never be the same
© 1996 Dean Stevens Music (bmi)
www.deanstevens.com
Patricia Farrell
Sister Patty Farrell has spent many years in El
Salvador, in devoted service to the people of several
places, but mostly a town called Suchitoto. This
song is a tribute to the women who lost everything
in the conflict, but came back to rebuild their lives,
families and communities. Patty’s song is beloved
throughout the repopulated villages of El Salvador
and beyond.
Mujer salvadoreña trabajadora y campesina
Yo le canto a tus manos de ternura y valentía
Manos que tanto saben de tortear y acariciar
Manos que trabajan por una nueva sociedad
Woman of El Salvador, worker and peasant
I sing to your hands of tenderness and strength
Hands that know so well how to shape tortillas
and how to caress
Hands that work for a new society
Mujer salvadoreña tan valiente y tan sufrida
yo le canto a tus llagas, a tus lágrimas de guerra;
lágrimas derramadas por los hijos que perdiste,
lágrimas que lavan el sufrimiento de tu pueblo.
Woman of El Salvador, so long suffering and so brave
I sing to your scars, to your tears of war
Tears shed for the children that you lost
Tears that will wash away the suffering of your people
Mujer salvadoreña corazón de los hogares,
yo le canto a tu fuerza familiar y solidaria;
fuerza de esposa y madre de amor y valentía;
uerza de manos unidas que aumentan día a día.
Mujer salvadoreña mujer de fé y de esperanza
yo le canto a las mujeres de todo Chalatenengo
las mujeres repobladas son semillas del futuro
que alcanzaremos juntos con Dios y trabajo duro.
Woman of El Salvador, heart of the homes
I sing to your strength of family and solidarity
Strength of wife and mother,
strength so loving and brave
Strength of hands united, that grow stronger every day
Woman of El Salvador, woman of faith and hope
I sing to all the women of Chalatenango
(Northern province of El Salvador)
The repopulated women are seeds of a future
That we will reach together, with God and hard work.
© Pat Farrell
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David Dodson
There is a land
High on a hill
Where I am going
There is a voice that calls to me
The air is sweet,
The grasses wave
The wind is blowing
Oh, way up in the farthest field
Here is a song for the ages, for every human occasion, celebration, remembrance, commemoration. My
personal quest is to get it included in the hymnbooks
and songbooks of many denominations. My beautiful,
wildly prolific and unheralded friend David Dodson
wrote this, and many many more fabulous songs.
[email protected]
And when I’m called
And counted in
That final tally
I know that I will see you there
Oh my dear friends
I truly love
To hear your voices
All lifted up in radiant song
Though through the years
We have all made
Our separate choices
We’ve ended here where we belong
Oh, walk with me and we will see
The mystery revealed
When one day we wend our way
Up to the farthest field
The sun will rise
The sun will set
Across the mountains
And we will live with beauty there
The fragrant flowers
The days and hours
Will not be counted
And peaceful songs will fill the air
© 1993 David Dodson (bmi)
I know one day
I’ll leave my home
Here in the valley
And climb up to that field so fair
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Mili Bermejo
A love song, pure and simple. Find out about Mili Bermejo’s many exquisite Latin American Jazz recordings on
his website. Translation by Dean Stevens.
www.milibermejo.com
Cuando te vi mi ser temblo
Con la sospecha de tu amor
Yo presentí la urgencia de tu voz
Desvelo que robo mi corazon
Anhelo que me mostro tu pasión
When I saw you, my being trembled
With a suspicion of your love
I felt the urgency in your voice
A sleeplessness that showed me your passion
A longing that stole my heart
Con tu mirar, y alma de son
Dejaste huellas en mi piel
Yo me sentí dorada espiga al sol
Cautiva flor de tu querer
Creciente luz de amanecer
With your gaze, and your soul full of song
You left your footprints on my skin
I was golden grain in summer sun
A captive flower of your love
The growing light of dawn
Tu rebeldía me alimenta
Abriendo brecha
Contigo el mundo se alegra
Contigo no es desalmado
Es por tu risa, tu libertad
Por tu canción, tu sin razón
Y tu esperanza
Your rebel’s heart nourishes me
And opens new furrows
With you my world is nourished
With you it loses its cruelty
It’s from your laughter, your freedom
Because of your song, your whimsy, and your hope
When I first saw you, your being changed
With the certainty of my love
No longer will you shed your tears alone
The flowers I save for you will bloom
The verses I think for you will find voice.
Cuando te vi tu ser cambió
Con la certeza de mi amor
Ya no querras llorar tu soledad
Las flores que te guardo brotaran
Los versos que te pienso cantaran
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© Mili Bermejo (sesac)
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Mark Simos & Lisa Aschmann
Some seeds are hardy, they can weather the frost
Some seeds are delicate and easily lost
Some need careful planting with a farmer’s sure hand
Others take root in the stoniest land
Here is a co-written gem from two truly top tunesmiths,
truly at the top of their game. Need I say more?
www.devachan.com
www.lisaaschmann.com
Which seeds will you sow in the springtime
And shelter from the summer sun
And when it grows tall, what harvest in the fall
Which seeds, which seeds will you sow?
A seed may be planted with every kind word
It flies to the heart like a migrating bird
And death and destruction sow seeds of their own
He who sows salt reaps a harvest of stone.
Who knows the crop that their planting will yield
Where seeds may be scattered and how far afield
And who knows how many some day might be fed
By seed grown to grain, ground to flour
Baked to bread.
©2002 Lisa Aschmann/Nashville Geographic
(ascap) and Mark Simos/Devachan Music (bmi).
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Floyd Red Crow Westerman
I’ve sung this song for many years. It speaks to me of
our connection to this sacred Earth. Floyd Red Crow
Westerman (1936-2007) was a leading actor, singer
and Lakota Native American Activist. Lyrics in
Spanish translated by Susan Lobo.
www.myspace.com/floydredcrowwesterman
La tierra es mi madre
The Earth is my Mother
Mis hermanos, la tierra es mi madre
Mis hermanas, la tierra es tu madre
Mis hermanos, somos la misma sangre
Mis Hermanas, somos un solo rio
Oh my brothers, the Earth is my mother
Oh my sisters, the Earth is your mother
Oh my brothers, we are all the same blood
Oh my sisters, we are all one river
Somos un solo río, cuando estamos unidos
Seremos millones, y nuestro río correrá libre
We are all one river, when we are united
We will be millions, and our river will run free
Mis hermanos, somos la misma sangre
Mis hermanas, somos un solo río
Mis hermanos, la tierra es nuestra madre
Mis hermanas, somos todos hijos de ella
Oh my brothers, we are all of the same blood
Oh my sisters, we are one river
Oh my brothers, the Earth is our mother
Oh my sisters, we are all her children
Cuida tu madre con todo cariño
Somos un solo rio, y nuestro rio correrá libre
Take care of your mother with all of your love
We are one river, and our river will run free.
© Floyd Red Crow Westerman
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David Dodson
It was long ago, but I can still remember
One afternoon when we were four or five
Flat on our backs,
We looked up through the branches
Overhead underneath a pine.
Another gem from David Dodson. Buy his recordings,
especially “Goldenrod” (available from the artist,
email below).
[email protected]
A hoot owl calls and out across the water
The silver pathway of the rising moon.
And far away a flock of geese are calling
Oh I must be leaving soon.
And that old tree was thicker than a barrell
But in the wind how it would bend and sway
And we would stare straight up the trunk together
Pine trees look so tall that way.
No troubled dreams will cross my mind
Lying there underneath the pines.
And nothing felt so fine before
Than sleeping on that piny floor
No troubled dreams crossed our minds
Lying there underneath the pines.
© David Dodson (bmi)
I hear the wind that whispers through the branches
A red squirrel scolds and chatters overhead
And once again the smell of sweet pine needles
Rises from my forest bed.
The shades of brown and green and blue
With rays of sunlight passing through
The changing shadows gray designs
Gently sway underneath the pines.
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One parting look is all I’ll take
The field, the forest and the lake
And when I pass across the line
Lay me down underneath a pine.
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Dean Stevens, guitars,vocals
Eric Kilburn-mandolin, percussion, knobs and cables
Tom Macdonald-percussion
Ritt Henn-bass
Bob Lucas-guitar, banjo, violin, vocals, percussion
Cindy Kallet, Michael Cicone, Ellen Epstein- vocals
Aoife O’Donovan-vocals
Laura Cortese-violin, vocals
David Dodson, Susan Reed, Sue Kalt-vocals
Josh Rosen-piano
Billy Novick-soprano and alto saxophone
Denny Williams-guitars, ukelele, dobro, Weisenborn
Cassandra Jenkins-Art Direction
Sandra Agrafiotis, Samantha Wechsler-Photography
Dean Stevens-Spanish Translations
produced by dean stevens and eric kilburn
mastered by eric kilburn
Recorded between 1995 and 2008 at various incarnations of Wellspring Sound, most recently in acton, ma.
Additional engineering by Stephan Colson.
www.wellspringsound.com
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Undying thanks go to these communities, who have nurtured me along the way:
The Community Church of Boston
www.commchurch.org
St, Andrew Christian Church, Olathe, KS
www.saintandrewcc.org/
Watertown-El Salvador Sister City Committee
www.tremedalconcerts.org
Arlington/Teosinte Sister City Committee
www.arlingtonteosinte.org
US-El Salvador Sister Cities
www.elsalvadorsolidarity.org
Boston Climate Action Network
www.bostoncan.org
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These Dean Stevens’ recordings
available from cd baby, downloads on iTunes, or from:
Eyes of Wonder (vr 2004) © 1993 cd
Seeds (vr 2003) © 1989 cd
Love Comes to the Simple Heart (vr 2002) © 1985 cd
The Overview (vr 2001) © 1983 (lp only)
Also on the following compilations
(available from www.deanstevens.com):
Songs for the Earth: a Tribute to Rachel Carson
Sweet Chariot Music Festival (Double cd)
Sweet Chariot Music Festival Vol II
Salmon Nation Artists’ Project
For our Children: Heal the Earth
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