Documentary Songwriters

And an alternate recording:

Androulla Shati, story source, and Melodi Var Öngel, musical sherpa and vocalist, at the Home for Cooperation in the buffer zone in Nicosia, Cyprus.
 

Suli and I
Androulla Shati tells of a childhood when Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots would play together.
 
Dali, my village
The only one left with people
For centuries
People lived in peace
Together
 
My house was between
A church and a mosque
Sharing each other’s
Joy and sorrow
Every moment
 
Where I was born
A Turkish Cypriot house
Stood on our land
It became my home
 
When my mom went out to the field
She used to take me to
Kezban and his son Suli
They became my family
 
Suli and I
We played all day tirelessly
 
There was a well
Water flowing in the ditch
Suli and I were making boats
Wandering around without shoes
 
We were around seven
Something tragic happened
Kezban, Suli’s mom, died
They migrated to England
 
The house which was home for me
Suddenly became a big black hole
Couldn’t pass the empty house
Going around, around and around
 
Suli and I
We played all day tirelessly
 
Many years have passed
One day I was in London
Suddenly I saw
There was Suli and his father
 
We promised that we would meet again
But we never met, we never met
 
Suli and I
We played all day tirelessly
 
Greek translation by Orestis Agisilaou:
Δάλι το χωρίο μου
Το μοναδικό που έμεινε με ανθρώπους
για αιώνες
άνθρωποι που ζούσαν με ειρήνη
μαζί
 
Το σπίτι μου ήταν μεταξύ
μια εκκλησίας και ενός τζαμιού
μοιράζοντας ο ένας του άλλου
την χαρά και την λύπη
κάθε λεπτό
 
όταν γεννήθηκα
ένα τουρκοκυπριακό σπίτι
χτίστηκε στην γη μας
και έγινε το σπίτι μου
 
όταν η μαμά μου πήγαινε στα χωράφια
συνήθιζε να με παίρνει
στην Κεζμπάν και στον γιο της τον Σουλί
έγιναν η οικογένεια μου
 
ο Σουλί και εγώ
παίζαμε ακούραστα όλη μέρα
 
ένα πηγάδι
έπεφτε νερό στο αυλάκι
με τον Σουλί φτιάχναμε βάρκες
τρέχαμε γύρω χωρίς παπούτσια
 
Ήμασταν περίπου 7 χρονών
έγινε κάτι τραγικό
η Κεζμπάν, η μαμά του Σουλί πέθανε
μετακόμισαν στην Αγγλία
 
Το σπίτι που ένιωθα δικό μου
έγινε ξαφνικά μια μεγάλη μαύρη τρίπα
δεν μπορούσα να περάσω το άδειο σπίτι
πήγαινα τριγύρω εδώ και εκεί
 
Chorus
 
περάσαν πολλά χρόνια
μια μέρα, ήμουν στο Λονδίνο
ξαφνικά είδα
τον Σουλί και τον πατέρα του
 
Υποσχεθήκαν πως θα ξαναβρεθούμε
αλλά δεν ξαναβρεθήκαμε ποτέ
 
Chorus
 
Turkish translation by Üstün Öngel:
Dali, benim köyüm
İnsanların hala yaşadığı tek köy
Asırlardır
İnsanlar barış içinde
Beraber yaşadılar
 
Evim, bir kilisenin
Ve bir caminin arasındaydı
Birbirimizle
Neşemizi ve üzüntümüzü
Her zaman paylaşırdık
 
Doğduğumda
Yaşadığımız topraklarda
Bir Kıbrıslı Türk evi vardı
Sonradan benim yuvam oldu
 
Annem tarlaya
Çalışmaya gittiğinde
Beni Kezban ve oğlu Suli’nin
Yanına bırakırdı
Onlar benim ailem oldular
 
Suli ve ben
Tüm gün yorulmadan oynardık
 
Bir kuyu vardı
Hendekten su akardı
Suli ve ben tekneler yapardık
Ayakkabımız olmadan
Ortalarda dolaşırdık
 
Yedi yaşındayken
Trajik bir şey yaşandı
Suli’nin annesi Kezban öldü
Ardından İngiltere’ye göç ettiler
 
Benim için yuva haline gelen evleri
Aniden büyük bir kara deliğe dönüştü
Boş evlerinin önünden geçemedim
Etrafında dolaşıp durdum
 
Suli ve ben
Tüm gün yorulmadan oynardık
 
Uzun yıllardan sonra
Bir gün, Londra’ya yolum düştü
Aniden karşımda
Suli ve babasını gördüm
 
Tekrar buluşacağımıza dair söz verdik
Fakat buluşamadık bir daha
 
Story source: Andrulla Shati
Vocal-composition: Melodi Var Öngel
Guitar: Serkan Kaya
Accordion: Ηλιάνα Χρυσοστόμου (Eliana Chrysostomou)
Arrangement: Melodi Var Öngel & Serkan Kaya
 
Alternate Recording
Guitar: Joaquin Contreras
Accordion: Michael Barajas
Arrangement: Melodi Var Öngel, Joaquin Contreras, and Michael Barajas

Malcolm Brooks – story source, guitar, bass
 

Caleb Edwards – musical sherpa, vocals, percussion, mandolin

Produced by Malcolm Brooks
Executive Producer: Alex Wilder
 

Malcolm Brooks finds he cannot grasp beauty in its complexity and detail. Especially when the beauty lies in his beloved Barbara.
 
When I walk into the room
I see the glorious rug from Persia
All the whorls and the swirls overwhelm me
It feels so beautiful to see
I never know, never know where my eyes should go
 
When I look out of the window
I see a million trees in sunshine
All the whorls and the swirls overwhelm me
It feels so beautiful to see
I never know, never know where my eyes should go
 
I keep on thinking that when I see you
Things will be clear
You’re so good to me, I should feel at ease
But the truth is….
 
When I walk into the room
I see your face, your hair, your shoulders
And your hands, even they, overwhelm me
You’re so beautiful to see
I never know, never know where my eyes should go
 
 

Some experiences are meant be told through music, especially ones with transformative bonds. One night on the boat under the stars, Will Foote watches a seal, who seems to know that he is there.
 

Writers:

Will Foote – Story Source

Chloë Isis – Musical Sherpa
Will Foote, Chloë Isis – Vocals

Malcolm Brooks – Guitar


 
On the boat I stayed above
To look at the stars.
Out in the quietness I heard a splash
Close by me.
Little seal came right up to the boat.
I said, Hello, hey what are you doing?
I felt welcomed into his world.
It danced under the water,
Opened up to be seen by everyone,
Especially me.
 
© 2016 Beauchamp Point Music
 

The Push Farther Project
Alex Wilder – story source, vocals, guitar
Nora Willauer – cello
Will Foote – guitar

Chloë Isis – vocals

Heather Kahill – violin
 
Produced by Alex Wilder

Alex Wilder likes how he’s been changing and he knows who’s been the source of that change. But now she’s leaving…
 
In a month or two
She’ll be gone
She’ll be flying to Barcelona
I’m losing a life that feels so easy
When she’s near to me
 
And I guess I’m scared
That I won’t see
The beauty in everyday things
Cause seeing things through Eliza
Is to see them again
 
Like how the rain sounds
Or the view from Beech Hill
She’s got a love of life
That calls to my own
And I don’t want to be with anybody who can’t see
The beauty in everyday things
 
I feel her hand
I hear her voice
I don’t know why I think of bells
When she found me, I found beauty
In everyday things
 
© 2016 Beauchamp Point Music
 
 

From Malcolm:
All I knew in the middle of July 2016 was that Nora and Alex were working on some song up at the farm in Hope and that Alex was the story source and Nora was the musical sherpa. When I saw the lyrics they were working on, I was stunned by the idea of a feeling of anticipating a feeling — something that could only come from Alex. We all learned more about his relationship with Eliza. She had been up here from New York, drawing and baking and teaching herself Spanish on her cell phone as Alex, Will and Nora rehearsed. Soon she would be off to Spain. I could see how the city of Barcelona could feel so far away from a farm in Maine.
 

 
Writers:

Will Foote – Story Source



Nora Willauer, Malcolm Brooks, Alex Wilder – Musical Sherpas

Will Foote, Alex Wilder, Nora Willauer – vocals, guitars and cello
 

How do you fully love someone when a painful past holds them back?
Will’s relationship becomes challenged by memories and difficult ties to past relationships.
 
When we were at the beach,
We put our feet in the water,
And talked for a half an hour.
We got back up and dug a big hole in the sand.
The sun was shining,
And there were no clouds in the sky.
 
And then I can’t believe
I heard you say
He still likes you.
Don’t you know
That was the past.
 
You put your face in my shoulder
And cried me a river of tears.
You told me he would not leave you.
I told you he gave you much more pain than happiness.
I reminded you of all the times
You came to me in tears.
 
And then I can’t believe…
 
When we were at the New Year’s party,
You stayed by my side the whole night.
12 o’clock started getting closer.
Everyone else had a partner.
Everyone else had a partner.
You asked me if I could be your New Year’s kiss,
And so we kissed.
 
And then I can’t believe…
 
© 2016 Beauchamp Point Music
 
 
Found on The Push Farther Project’s album:

 
Find the available download at:
pushfarther.com
 

Chloë Isis – story source, vocals

Will Foote – vocals

Malcolm Brooks – musical sherpa

Alex Wilder – keyboards, bass
 
Produced by Alex Wilder

Chloë Isis makes it through the Maine winters, because the summers are so sweet.
 
I’m tired of winter, I’m tired of snow
I’m tired of the sky weighing me down
I’m tired of waiting for summer
To come around
 
I miss it every winter, I miss it every fall
When it’s here, I wish that it would stay
I wish I could skip ahead
To summer days
 
They say winter has to come for summer to feel sweet
I know it’s the place for me
In the summer in my bare feet (bis)
 
Summer makes me think of lying on our backs
Looking at the blue sky
Lying in the tall grass
In the fields where we could hide
 
Another thing I miss is jumping into lakes
And diving for rocks
Walking down the road
And singing as we walk
 
They say winter has to come for summer to feel sweet…
 
Summer evenings are the best of all
The sun is down, making it cool
Everyone is calm as they listen
To the crickets and the peepers (bis)
 
They say winter has to come for summer to feel sweet…
 

Chris Finn–Story Source

Will Foote– Sherpa, Lead Vocal

Alex Wilder– Vocals, Guitar, Bass
 
Produced by Alex Wilder

Prodigal Man
 
Chris Finn remembers his uncle’s homecoming after a sojourn not unlike that told in the Prodigal Son parable.
 
I was seven years old
My dad and I
Went to the airport
Uncle Dave arrived
You were shrouded in mystery
Decorated in war
Disappeared to Las Vegas
 
You’re the prodigal man, appearing like a dream
From a prodigal world I’d never seen
 
He looked like my dad
Who was the good son
We walked in the house
Surprising everyone
Grandma’s hand on her chest
She fell in Grandpa’s arms
And said, my David, you’ve come home
 
You’re the prodigal man, appearing like a dream
From a prodigal world I’d never seen
 
He said it’s me, Mom, I’ve come home
A grown man had misbehaved
He found himself forgiven
I was frozen and amazed
 
You’re the prodigal man, appearing like a dream
From a prodigal world I’d never seen
 
There was a letter I wrote
Right before you died
Never opened
It didn’t get there in time
It’s in the casket with you
In the jacket you wore
It says I love you, in the letter
 
Sometimes a song evolves in a choral direction, as this one did for Malcolm. He found himself singing a choral refrain after each chorus. Alex named it the hymn version.


I was seven when my dad and I
Went to the airport and you arrived
You were decorated in war
And disappeared to Las Vegas
 
You’re the prodigal man in my family
From a prodigal world I’ve never seen
 
In this house, in this heart
Wherever you are, you are welcome
 
You looked like my dad, the good son
We got home and surprised everyone
Grandma’s hand flew to her heart
She said, “My David, you’ve come home”
 
You’re the prodigal man in my family
From a prodigal world I’ve never seen
 
In this house, in this heart
Wherever you are, you are welcome
 
You said, “It’s me, Mom, I’ve come home”
A grown man has misbehaved
And found himself forgiven
I was frozen with amazement
 
I wrote a letter right before you died
Never opened so they put it inside
In the jacket that you wore
When they laid you down to rest
 
You’re the prodigal man in my family
From a prodigal world I’ve never seen
 
In this house, in this heart
Wherever you are, you are welcome

Chloë Isis begins a different life in her house now that her sister has gone off to college.
 

 

Chloë Isis – story source, vocals
 

Malcolm Brooks – musical sherpa
 

Next weekend I’m going to a wedding
I haven’t met them yet
And I’ll see my sister there
Who just left for college
I’m at home
 
And I’ll sleep through thunder and rain
But the wind always wakes me up
I will sleep through thunder and rain
But the wind always wakes me up
 
I can usually talk a lot
But it’s harder when you’re the only one talkin’
I think it’s true about singin’ too
I can sing for a long time
By myself
Sing longer someone else
 
And I will sleep through thunder and rain
But the wind always wakes me up…
 
And now I feel
I’m an only
I’m an only child
 
Since August
I’ve been an only child
Both siblings are at college
It’s a little lonely
But also fun because in the morning
I don’t have to wait to play piano
 
And I will sleep through thunder and rain
But the wind always wakes me up…
 
 
Chloë Isis
 

Will Foote – musical sherpa, vocal

Jeb Smereck – musical sherpa, guitar

Malcolm Brooks – story source, upright bass
 
Produced by Alex Wilder
 

Malcolm Brooks hikes to the ocean believing that the waves will match his own stormy mood. But the seas are calm and seem not to care.
 
I climb over the rocks
Up the cliff on the hill
I cry to the ocean, save me
But the ocean’s almost still
 
I want the ocean to have my back
And drown my enemies
I want the ocean to have my back
But the little waves just laugh at me
 
They don’t smash against the rocks
They don’t roll and reel
They don’t say “I’ll drown your troubles.”
“I feel what you feel.”
 
I want the ocean to have my back
And drown my enemies
I want the ocean to have my back
But the little waves just laugh at me
 
They don’t smash against the shore
What kind of answer is that?
What kind of power is that?
They just come and go
So low, flat and slow
 
I want the ocean to have my back
And drown my enemies
I want the ocean to have my back
But the little waves just laugh at me
 
I want the ocean to have my back
With high winds, raging seas
I want the ocean to have my back
And drown my enemies

 

Nora Willauer, Eugene, Oregon Hannah Blanchard, Abbotsford, British Columbia

At 16, Nora Willauer and Hannah Blanchard set off for their first-ever sailing trip alone and found themselves blinded by fog in the Gulf of Maine.
 
Writers:
Nora Willauer – Story Source
Malcolm Brooks, Alex Wilder, Will Foote – Musical Sherpas
 
Recorded by:
The Push Farther Project


Hannah — I saw her this summer
For the first time in three years
At one a.m. in Halifax, when I was on another boat
We talked about sailing Josephine,
When we were only sweet sixteen
 
How did I do that
Who in the hell was that person
Sailing in the fog
I’d be scared to do that now
 
Hannah and I had left
So sure of our course
To this buoy that we’ve sailed to a thousand times before
But something went wrong
All I could see was fog
How did I do that…
 
We were sending our radio calls to the barges
Telling everyone that we were sailing
With limited engine power, please
Nobody hit us
 
So we turned around 180 and
Made it back to the breakwater
We sailed around the harbor and got back our confidence
And then we tried it again
We found the buoy in the fog
How did I do that…
 
We were sending our radio calls to the barges…
 
Then the fog bank lifted
As joyous as a sun rise
And now I get inspiration from the confident sixteen year old
Who managed to pull that off
I need to be her now
 
How did I do that
Who in the hell was that person
Sailing in the fog
I’d be scared to do that now
I need to be her now

 

Milk Carton
 
When Nora Willauer’s uncle Peter, who lived in the Maine woods, would come to visit the family farm, his ways challenged the family norms and inspired Nora’s independence.
 
Writers:

Nora Willauer – story source

Alex Wilder, Will Foote, Malcolm Brooks – musical sherpas
 
Recording: The Push Farther Project at Bay Chamber Concerts
Film coverage by Dana Rae Warren and Alex Forcillo
Editing: Rohan Edwards

I don’t know if you ever met my uncle
He died nearly four years ago
My mom’s youngest brother, he lived in the woods
In a cabin he built by himself
 
We’d never know when he would be coming
He’d do projects around the house
He’d sleep in a tent in our back yard
Because he wouldn’t sleep inside
He’d never sleep in side
 
Things I hesitate to do
It’s mostly everyday
Like what to wear and what music to listen to
I think of him drinking milk from a carton
And I laugh and say
I don’t care what they thought of him
And what they think of me
No, I don’t care what they thought of him or me
 
He would drink our milk from the carton
And then he would put it back
My mom didn’t like that, she’d get so annoyed
But she still loved to have him there
 
He really liked to play fiddle music
And he also played the blues guitar
He’d write his own songs and play them with me
And he also taught me how to waltz
He taught me how to waltz
 
Things I hesitate to do…

He’d come to Thanksgiving dinner
Drumsticks he’d eat with his hands
My family wished he’d use a fork and a knife
But they still loved to have him there
 
One day we got a call that something happened
He died in the woods by himself
And it was all too soon, so much I could have learned
I wish we’d had more time (2x)
 
Things I hesitate to do…
 
When I think of him I’m more accepting
Of people who do their own thing
There are people who care and people who don’t
I want to be more like him
I want to be more like me
 
Things I hesitate to do…