Britt writes:
Clay Spurz and I did not become rich and/or famous. But, as luck would have it, we did get older. The two of us would sing from time to time in the interim years of careers and raising children. One day, we were recording some tracks in the large old-fashioned cedar closet in his attic, and, in a break, I started singing “Let Go of My Hand,” a tune I’d been tinkering with. It reminisces about my daughter, Amanda, and my son, DeSha, on the day she graduated from high school and and he from college. There’s a photo of baby DeSha balancing on my outstretched hand before he could even walk (babies can do that). “A photo can freeze what a hand cannot hold.” And there are lots of images in my mind of first solo bike rides, swims in the deep end, and those graduation days. “Let go of my hand, I’ll be right here. . . .”
Spurz turned on the machine, and I sang it as it came out in the track below, adding harmonies later. Spurz wept as I was singing. “And the next twenty times I listened,” he says. He put in some backup guitar, and we used it on our first CD. People started asking for it and closing their eyes as they listened. That’s sweet.
Ironically, I wrote the tune not too long after the current band had played Eddie's Attic in Decatur, where we shared the stage with a duet that played an original song about their children. I said to Spurz, “If I ever write a song about my children, just shoot me.”
So here's my song about my children. “A poppa so proud, he’s about to explode.”
Clay Spurz and I did not become rich and/or famous. But, as luck would have it, we did get older. The two of us would sing from time to time in the interim years of careers and raising children. One day, we were recording some tracks in the large old-fashioned cedar closet in his attic, and, in a break, I started singing “Let Go of My Hand,” a tune I’d been tinkering with. It reminisces about my daughter, Amanda, and my son, DeSha, on the day she graduated from high school and and he from college. There’s a photo of baby DeSha balancing on my outstretched hand before he could even walk (babies can do that). “A photo can freeze what a hand cannot hold.” And there are lots of images in my mind of first solo bike rides, swims in the deep end, and those graduation days. “Let go of my hand, I’ll be right here. . . .”
Spurz turned on the machine, and I sang it as it came out in the track below, adding harmonies later. Spurz wept as I was singing. “And the next twenty times I listened,” he says. He put in some backup guitar, and we used it on our first CD. People started asking for it and closing their eyes as they listened. That’s sweet.
Ironically, I wrote the tune not too long after the current band had played Eddie's Attic in Decatur, where we shared the stage with a duet that played an original song about their children. I said to Spurz, “If I ever write a song about my children, just shoot me.”
So here's my song about my children. “A poppa so proud, he’s about to explode.”