As the title suggests, a haunting, melancholy song. A plaintive hurdy gurdy brings the song in. There are elements of prog rock, emo, folk-rock, classic rock, pop and alternative.
Words and music: David Nyro
Piano, keys, voice: David Nyro
Drums and percussion/bike: Sean Lane
Bass: Marc Miller
Guitar: Jakael Tristram
Cello: Katie Kuffel
Hurdy gurdy: Cali Hackmann
Recorded at London Bridge Studios, various home studios.
Engineer: Jakael Tristram
Producers: David Nyro and Jakael Tristram
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The title is a phrase my mom said. She was in her 80's and fighting ovarian cancer and losing. She didn't want to come to a dinner our family was having because, as she put it, she didn't want to be a skeleton at the feast. I'd never heard her use this term before, but it needed no explanation. It sent shivers. I also quickly realized it was an amazing song title. So that's what the song is about. It's me, writing from my mom's perspective, looking back on her life and at her current situation. As I typically do, I took some poetic license, so every word is not literally true for my mom and her story. But it's all based on her to some degree. She did live long enough to hear it, but, never being too keen on any music created after 1955, unless it was Frank Sinatra or Tony Bennett, or classical, she thought it was "Nice, but kind of sad and depressing." Well yeah, mom; that's the idea! Ha ha. Anyway, very glad she heard it before she left us on October 10, 2016. Battled all the way and made it to 90! Love you, mom. I wouldn't be doing all this if it wasn't for you, and dad!
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Skeleton At The Feast
© May 5, 2016 by David Nyro
Verse 1: The nights are growing colder,
the shadows, growing bolder
I can’t face my face any more.
Choices through the years,
voices on deaf ears
Settling in my bones, to my core.
Hello, Grim Spectre, I see you at my door;
or are you a reflection? I’m not a dancer any more
Chorus:
I don't wanna be . . .
I don't want to be
A skeleton at the feast
Verse 2:
Four only children have I raised;
Grown and flown away from me
Beloved others in their graves;
sometimes , I envy that they are free
Mistakes and sour grapes,
I alone have lived to tell the tale
There’s still a place at the table
But I’ve gone beyond the pale
Chorus: I don't want to be . . .
I don't want to be
I don't want to be . . .
A skeleton at the feast
Instrumental:
Chorus:
I don't want to be . . .
I don't want to be . . .
I don't want to be . . .
A skeleton at the feast
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