Artists Registry

Days and weeks following the attacks I would come home from work, turn on the television set with muted sound, pick up my guitar and play it gently, seeking a chord progression that would make sense in that numbing context. I would see the planes hitting the towers, the fire and the smoke, the tidal wave of ash flowing down the streets, chasing countless numbers of running people. The makeshift memorials set up with candles and pictures of loved ones. At some point I started having this vision of a metronome, a time keeping device amidst total destruction, a device bent on keeping time but there was no one left to acknowledge its relentless pendulum dividing duration in small, equal increments. I was the only witness. That vision led to the very beat of the song, the repetitive tap on the acoustic guitar. Once I figured out that tapping the chord progression started to build and the lyrics followed. At the risk of sounding presumptuous, I would say it was some kind of magic, or rather the magical unfolding of something that had to be sung and heard in music and words. Sometime in November of that year I played the song to my studio collaborator, Robert Berry, and we decided to record it, keeping production values to a minimum, thus letting the music and lyrics stand for themselves. To my great relief Robert accepted to sing the song to avoid having my accent draw the listener away from the sensitive theme. Over the years I shared the song with family and friends and now I can finally share it with the September 11 families, the community, and the world at large. I sincerely hope the song will bring everyone a sense of closure and an opening towards hope and trust in a better and brighter future. AND, nurture the perennial remembrance of those who lost their lives on that otherwise beautiful autumn morning.