Story

Help me, people!  I get whiney a couple of times per day – sometimes several times an hour.  So I need you to rough me up periodically with a reality check, OK? 

 

This was a self-imposed challenge since I had to figure out how to write out winds’ parts. Composing/arranging measure by measure for three instruments wasn’t something I’d done before. 

 

And then it took a village . . .  to record.  The winds trio consists of two teaching colleagues on trombone and clarinet plus, playing tuba, a member of “The President’s Own” (the United States Marine Band based here in Washington that John Phillip WhatsHisName used to direct!) Washington-area percussionist extraordinaire Tom Teasley (who, I have learned, has military band experience of his own) keeps the rhythm crisp and clear and march-like . . . and occasionally whacky.

 

© 2013 Steven E. Cutts

recorded and mixed by Jim Robeson in the fall/winter ’15-‘16

 

Steve, vocal

Christopher Lee, trombone

Tom Teasley, drums

Simon Wildman, tuba

Sarah Winston, clarinet

Lyrics

Slap me when I whine; yank me into line;

Glare at me and snarl when I complain.

Say “Shut up” when I kvetch like some ungrateful wretch;

Treat me as though I am quite insane.

If I allege conspiracy, accuse me of mad lunacy;

Insist that I am being paranoid.

Whatever curses I invoke, please shout at me “You’re blowing smoke

When actually you should be overjoyed.”

             

 

            Yes, fortune has been good to me;

            I’ve managed to dodge tragedy.

I’ve got no monkeys on my back;

            I haven’t had a heart attack;

 

Eyesight, hearing – both are fine;

            My memory’s good most of the time.

Even though work can be hard,

            Employment sure beats being bored.

 

            Sufficient money to enjoy –

            Lots of travel – lots of toys.

I’ve got a roof above my head,

            And very night a nice warm bed.

 

            My house is on a pleasant street;

            I always have enough to eat. 

I’ll try to be more positive

            And grateful for the life I live.

                                               

           

So use statistics if you must to undermine my fuss;

Don’t let me conjure up some sad estate.

Yes, I know that I am prone to rant, groan, whimper, moan;

Don’t be tempted to commiserate.

When I snivel and lament the winter of my discontent,

Don’t encourage my ingratitude.

Don’t show up to my pity party; claim you’re ill – not hale and hearty;

Don’t indulge my lousy attitude.

 

The next time I lament my fate, fire away don’t hesitate.

Point out I’m acting deaf and dumb and blind.

When I become melodramatic, just resort to our old tactic:

Slap me when I whine!