Music

I recently was asked to sing at the funeral of a neighbor and good friend.  As I was searching my heart to determine which songs to share I thought of “Stay with Me” (Just Until My Heart Recovers) and was reminded how it came to be.

It was my first trip to Nashville, and I had appointments with record industry people, genuine big shots, and I had a demo tape with my best songs. 

This could be it; the big break. I bought boots. 

The most important meeting was with a gifted and hugely successful producer named Jim Ed Norman. He’d produced all the big hits for Anne Murray, not to mention other legendary stars, and I was going to get to meet him. A dear friend of mine had stuck his neck out for me and arranged for the meeting. 

I knew Mr. Norman was extremely busy, so I decided to only play one song for him.  A song I hoped Anne Murray, who was at the peak of her popularity, would consider singing. I was so excited for this opportunity I didn’t really notice that the new boots were so tight I’d lost all feeling in my toes.

There weren’t many what you’d call “pleasantries” exchanged with Jim Ed before he put the tape into his machine. He was busy. But I was pleased that the song sounded particularly good, coming out of his sound system. Even better than in the studio where we recorded the demo.  I was proud of the work, but tried to act humble as the tune played on. It wasn’t easy.

I tried to watch the producer’s face without it looking like I was watching his face, in search of clues: hoping to see if he was particularly moved by a lyric in the verse or delighted by the chord changes in the chorus.  He didn’t reveal much. Must be from years of experience playing poker.

When the song was over he rewound the tape and handed it to me. 

“No” was all he said. 

What did that mean? No. I needed to know what he meant, so I asked him.

“No, like the verse is too long…or No because the chorus isn’t memorable, or no because the lyric isn’t specific enough?  What?”

“Just NO”

He wasn’t trying to be mean, I don’t think.  He was busy and not interested and was anxious for me to leave.

“Look, Mr. Norman, it’s such an honor to meet you and to have you take time to listen to my song. Is there anything you can tell me that would help me make it better? Any suggestions on what I should work on?”

“If I had the time to re-write your song I’d be better off writing one of my own. I don’t know what else to say, but…..no.”

As he was handing me my demo tape my friend entered the office.  Peter was always positive and extremely encouraging. “Hey, Jim Ed…the kid’s got potential, don’t you think?”

“I guess you could say everyone on earth has….potential.”

I left the office devastated.  I had a shot at presenting a song to a major player in the industry I wanted so much to be a part of and he hated it.  How could he have hated it? Was it really that bad?  And the hardest part was, I didn’t have a clue how to begin to make it better.  Maybe I was just one more of the pathetic dweebs who comes to Nashville with unrealistic dreams, a mediocre song and tight boots.  

The flight home was eternal.  I listened to the song over and over again and tried to imagine how I could have made it better. I couldn’t. It was the best I could do, and that wasn’t good enough, obviously. 

It wasn’t quite a year later when I was sitting in my office at a production company I worked for and the receptionist told me there was someone who’d come to see me named Glenn Yarbrough.   I wondered if this could be the same Glenn Yarbrough who had been a very successful folk singer with a group called the Limelighters, and then on his own as a solo artist.  I hadn’t heard anything about him for years.  I thought he was dead.

Turns out, he wasn’t, and he’d come to visit me, because he’d heard I was a pretty good songwriter. 

“Really?” I said a bit suspiciously. 

“I was in town doing some concerts and thought I’d look you up and see if what I’d heard was true.”

I took out a copy of the tape I’d taken to Nashville and threaded it into the machine.  “Would you like to see a lyric sheet?”

“That’s okay…I’ll just listen” He closed his eyes when I hit the play button and didn’t open them again until the song was over.  He was in tears. 

“That’s incredible,” he said.  “What a gift you have.  What else can you play for me? I’ve been on a sail boat for ten years and I’ve decided to come out of retirement and want you to write an album for me.”

“Yea…sure…whatever” I probably could have disguised my jadedness better, but I wasn’t up to it. What did this guy want from me?  He couldn’t have been serious about the song. Something must happen to people who drop out of sight for ten years and sail around the world on a handmade boat. 

“I’ll be in Reno at Harrahs with my band. I’ll call you and have you come and see the show.  Might give you some ideas for songs.”

“That sounds just great.  I’ll wait for your call”.  This was not my most genuine moment.  In my heart I knew something was wrong with this picture. 

A few weeks later he called and invited Lynne and me to come to Reno to see his act.  I never thought of myself as the kind of a songwriter who would flourish in casinos, but it was fun walking into the showroom as an invited guest of the headliner. 

Midway through the show Glenn said to the audience, “I’d like to introduce you to a great young songwriter who’s with us tonight. If things work out, we’ll be doing an album together soon.  Please welcome Michael McLean”.

It was like something out of an old black and white film on AMC.  Unknown songwriter humbly stands in nightclub at the beginning of his rise to stardom. 

Well, the stardom part never happened, and I’m not sure how humble the songwriter was, but Glenn was as good as his word, and I spent my thirtieth birthday in the studio with Glenn Yarbrough producing an album entitled “Stay with Me”. 

Shortly after the album was produced, I was watching a music awards show and Anne Murray was nominated in one of the categories.  Her record had been produced by Jim Ed Norman.  I snarled at the television and hoped they’d lose. 

And then it hit me.  Something was terribly wrong, with me and with the business I was in.  Who I trusted to tell me the truth was becoming whoever told me what I wanted to hear. Glenn was a great guy cause he loved my songs…Jim Ed was Satan because he didn’t. And yet the truth about the work, and about me, didn’t change, regardless of who’s opinion was being shared at a particular moment.

The truth was something I knew, and that I had to learn to trust, and that I had to be willing to follow, absolutely, or I would be lost. I made myself a promise that night that I’ve been trying to keep, though sometimes I stumble and fall. The promise is that I’d trust completely the inner voice that always tells the truth, and that I’d be grateful if someone is ever touched by something I’ve written, and humble enough to learn something from those who aren’t…but the final judgment about what I’m working on, will come from an incorruptible truth detector within. 

“Stay With Me” was originally written as a love song.  The pinings of someone who’s heart has been broken, yearning for a new love to stay with them, just until their heart recovers.

Every story has an ending even when it can’t be told
And every broken heart starts mending
When it finds shelter from the cold.
I’ve heard a window always opens
When the doors have all been closed
And though I know it’s true
Right now I need more light to see me through…
And Oh, I need you
To stay with me
Just until my heart recovers.
Stay with me,
It’s a lonely thing to suffer.
Tell me how the heartache I feel now will go away someday.
Maybe we just might find the answers that will carry me like an awkward dancer on a crowded floor,
I’ll learn to dance once more someday…if you’ll just stay.

Life takes many sudden twists and turns which none of us can predict. 

When I first started writing this song with my friend Chris Harding I had no idea how it would be rejected in Nashville or later embraced by Mr. Yarbrough.  I also didn’t see that a rewrite of the song would be necessary to help some friends cope with the loss of their child.

Lynne received a call for us to meet our friends at the hospital.  Their two young sons had been riding in the back of their car and the back window had been rolled down to let in some fresh air.  I don’t know the exact details of how it happened, but apparently carbon monoxide was sucked into the back seat and both her young sons had passed out.  The older child survived, the two year old didn’t. 

As they came out of the hospital to give us the news it was devastating.  Our children were the same ages.  It could have been us.  The grief was palpable in that parking lot and I tried to say something comforting, but it came out wrong.  In moments of such sadness, I’m not sure if words are ever as needed as the silent, unspoken embrace.  

Our friends did not have a lot of family nearby, and I was asked to prepare something for the funeral of their son.   You don’t have to preach a sermon about forever, they told me, just help them get through now.

A few sleepless nights later I rewrote Stay With Me and sang it at the funeral.

I did not know that I would sing the same song the day my Grandmother buried her son and grandson who died in an automobile accident. 

It’s interesting how much my perspective on this song changed after these events took place.  The music was no longer about questioning how well it was crafted, but rather how tenderly it might comfort those who needed someone to stay, just until their hearts recovered.  

No one every can be certain what another day will bring
So dim the lights and raise the curtain,
The cast is waiting in the wings.
Life goes on and on forever
and though deep down inside I know,
I’ll have him back again,
But I’ll still be lonely until then
And  Lord I need you
To stay with me, just until my heart recovers.
Stay with me, it’s a lonely thing to suffer.
Tell me how the heartache I feel now will go away, someday.
Maybe we just might find the answers that will carry me like an awkward dancer on a crowded floor
I’ll learn to dance once more someday…if you’ll just stay…

And Lord, I know that you will stay.

Listen to “Stay with Me”.