Steve AndrewsGirl Singer
Singer-Songwriter HyperLink
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song created                                

Monday, March 22, 2021 8:55:32 PM
song updated                               

Monday, March 22, 2021 8:55:32 PM
stations playing this song              
Eve's Musical Day
Finnegans Wake Book 1 Chapter 6
IndieMusicPeople

 















Song about how hard it can be for female artists in the music business and how live audiences can be insensitive and apathetic unless the act on stage is famous.

Steve Andrews: words and music
Production: Jayce Lewis

It was inspired by watching a girl singer with an acoustic group backing her at a music venue where people were not really listening but more concerned with getting drunk and chatting amongst themselves.
I first saw you standing in the spotlight, standing lovely, lonely on that cold night, I saw you singing, singing through the moonlight, I saw you sparkle, I saw you sparkle bright. I saw you there singing your heart out, I saw you singing through the clamour of these fools, And you delivered something special, on that special night. Now I can hear you and I can see you, You're not alone in the wilderness, You're not alone in this sea of madness, You're not alone in the music biz. Girl singer, where are you now? I need to find you across this crowded city, I need to find you across these desperate bars, I need to find you through the halls and clubs of loneliness, I need to find you on the road of falling stars. I need to find you, through all the teeming millions, I need to find you, through electric storms and dark, I need to find you through all our crazy pathways, I need to find you, from right across the world. Girl singer, where are you now? x
Song Comments

Eve's Musical Day
a nice humble song with a good message, go girl singers, they rule the indie landscape!


Finnegans Wake Book 1 Chapter 6
I am offering this to Signorina Cuticura and I intend to take it up and bring it under the nosetice of Herr Harlene by way of diverting his attentions. Of course the unskilled singer continues to pervert our wiser ears by subordinating the space-element, that is to sing, the aria, to the time-factor, which ought to be killed, ill tempor. I should advise any unborn singer who may still be among my heeders to forget her temporal diaphragm at home (the best thing that could happen to it!) and attack the roulade with a swift colpo di glottide to the lug (though Maace I will insist was reclined from overdoing this, his recovery often being slow) and then, O! on the third dead beat, O! to cluse her eyes and aiopen her oath and see what spice I may send her. How? Cease thee, cantatrickee! I fain would be solo. Arouse thee, my valour! And save for e'er my true Bdur!


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