Listen: Rob Morsberger - "Feather In A Stream"
Wednesday, May 30, 2012 at 5:11PM
The many themes of mortality woven through Rob Morsberger's remarkable album Ghosts For Breakfast ring with a special truth. For one of our most literate and sadly underappreciated tunesmiths, one who, remarked one critic, could "write a hook that could make the angels weep", that reflection on life and death takes on new meaning and urgency when the onset of a life-threatening disease turns the greeting of every day into a celebrated event. For Morsberger it comes down to "living with an illness that could rapidly derail me at any time" but the subsequent soul-searching and reflection on the meaning of one's life has provided a heartfelt, occasionally heartbreaking source of creative outpouring. "Feather In A Stream" is a brilliant track from an album the songwriter, composer/arranger and multi-instrumentalist calls his most "eccentric and ambitious" work yet. Stay through the song's full five-and-a-half minutes as it gradually evolves from one mood and melody to another, building to a swelling theatrical climax and then back down again.
Rob Morsberger - "Feather In A Stream" (from Ghosts For Breakfast)
Reader Comments (2)
The instrumental background, starting with piano and evolving into a symphonic peak at the end of the song on this sight is truly magnificent and magical. Like walking in the fog through trees wet with dew, alone and away from everything synthetic, magnified by what is real, fresh and natural.
Sifting (This poem was Inspired by listening to this song by Rob Morsberger)
Slick in the swelter of 100 degrees of separation, from heat to heart
Swollen, beating, drenched in blood it beats, but his doesn’t any longer
Blisters of the sun wilt flowers and people wading in the mist of sweating green leaves panting and heaving
I feel myself letting go. . . sifting down the ivory keys into dropping water tinkling, meandering through rocks and twigs
Skimming delicately over the top, looking up at dancing trees
Stream grows to river and river leads to the mouth of oceans
Carried off in motions that sway a body lightly, then in crashing blows beats it against the weathered rocks.
Take me down.
Take my Body.
Wrap me around stones and wrinkle me with times metamorphosis, through the ripples and in the rain
I will still . . slowly, desperately in a dream meet the surface, crashing forth and gasping that I am alive!
My heart still beating . . I live . . .
I can choose this blood and bone coursing as the River does
Strong, ever-changing, ever flowing, invigorating, purifying, powerful.
By, Thistle Tulla Carson