Beauty is Imperfection

I must apologize, dear “Beauty is Imperfection” reader. I posted six new songs the other day, and advertised one that I don’t think was quite ready for air time. Though I won’t bore you with technical details, suffice it to say that I do the final mixing of these songs in my headphones to make them sound the best I can (with my limited technical ability). “TV Head” is a song I like a lot, and though I worked hard to make it sound good in actual speakers, I didn’t realize how much the song would be hurt by the thin bandwidth of an MP3 and the even more horrible degradations of the MySpace player, didn’t realize how the diminishing sonic returns of such formats would make my ditty sound really rank by the time it reached your tender ears. I should have given it an extra listen, and I didn’t. I’ve tried to fix some problems, but I might well take it down and futz with it a little before reposting. Sorry if you heard it and it made you sick. I guess it’s too much to ask you to imagine how it should sound.

Just when I was most disillusioned, I had dinner and wine with a new friend last night, an excellent musician named Christian who has really got music production down and understands audio engineering in ways I can barely fathom. You can check out his work with his band Montalfish here and see what I’m talking about.

Christian was very gracious to give my music a listen last night and tell me that, despite its flaws, it has some promise, and I’m grateful for some of the tips he gave me, mostly about my drum parts (not tight!)

But since that will take some time, and since I’m not as disappointed with some of the other songs on here, I’ve decided to share the next one with you anyway.

This one is called “Leaving Babylon,” and is a short story of political intrigue set to music. I should add that I created an alternate version of the melody sung by cats that, as far as I know, is the only recording my wife likes.

Leaving Babylon by ER Salo Deguierre.

“Leaving Babylon”
By Eric Rasmussen
Copyright 2010

He was just right out of college
On his first tour of Baghdad
Working for a private concern, a no-bid contract for his dad
His first assignment is to carry a suitcase filled with pounds and gold
A payoff for some Baathist Army to keep the locals in the fold

He was disguised inside a convoy when they hit an IED
He was blinded and left bleeding, an Arab boy helped him to see

For two months in a cinder block cell, the Arabs retrain him as their own
To hold the standard of the Sunni, fighting for the pan-Arab home
But he was carrying special orders, with that million dollar check
Embarrassing to the multi-nationals, the M15 marks him for death

He doesn’t even know his father
He doesn’t even know his name
He just wants to find some morals
In a world where there’s no blame

In business handshakes there flowers money
On CNN there flowers fame
But only purity of purpose
Can keep the borderline man sane,

He’s caught downwind of fair Bathsheeba,
her ablutions drove him mad
And he lost his moral compass
Lay her body in the sand

Swimming in her shallow kisses,
don’t know which God to call by name
So he raced out into the desert
Sackcloth ashes and a cane

Have you come to throw a boulder
And to strike Goliath dead?
Or could you wake up back at Dartmouth
With a co-ed in your bed?

Someone take me to the Green Zone
Call the Congress if you please!
Let me just talk to my mother
I throw myself upon my knees

As you lived among the Pagans
Did you lose your mother tongue?
Did you eat the heathen idols
As Bathsheeba drew her gun?

Someone take me to your leader
I don’t want to die alone!
How I weep as if for Zion
And for my imagined home