Authors: Richard Matheson
Lyrics
Lyrics
Richard Matheson
Copyright
Lyrics
Copyright © 2011 by RXR, Inc.
Cover art to the electronic edition copyright © 2011 by RosettaBooks, LLC
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher or the author.
Electronic edition published 2011 by RosettaBooks LLC, New York.
ISBN e-Pub edition: 9780795316913
WHEN YOU’RE FLOATING DOWN THE VOLGA WITH OLGA
A PRINCESS HAS A FULL TIME JOB
To Carol Burnett
With gratitude for the
many years of wonderful
entertainment she gave to
my family and me.
by
Richard Matheson
Few of my readers (probably none) know that, for many years, I wrote songs, (words and music) hoping they would be popular – a hope I rarely achieved. Why I did this, I have no idea. Well, maybe I do.
I believe that a fortunate few are born with a creative inclination. How they take advantage of this inclination depends on physical circumstances. I don’t mean bodily health so much as family conditions. For instance, if my family had consisted of artists, I might have been inclined in that direction. My mother
did
paint charming miniatures and I had a first cousin who drew very amusing cartoons. I even did some pencil drawing myself but not enough to matter. At any rate, I grew up during the Depression (1929-1938) and couldn’t have afforded art supplies anyway.
If my family had consisted of professional actors, I might have gone into that. I
did
perform in a few amateur theatre productions but never with much dedication. Also one word in a major film – SOMEWHERE IN TIME. In brief, acting was out. Encouragement in that field was nil.
If my family had consisted of composers and musicians, I might have concentrated on that creative area. My older sister played piano very well, my mother taught me how to play the piano (I taught myself how to write music.) But, again, the Depression. We had a second-hand, upright piano. Nothing more. (Leaving me, once more, with the question – Why did I choose to write songs?) Maybe because, they were half words. That was the creative world I was most drawn to. When I was seven years old, I wrote little poems and stories, some of which were published in
The Brooklyn Eagle
. And – hampered, as always, by the Depression’s effect, all I needed was paper and pencil; maybe, if I felt ambitious, an inexpensive notebook. I used one to write a novel when I was fourteen (completed by the time I was sixteen.) It was the creative area I concentrated on. Let me add that the music to all my songs ranges from – more than likely – imitative to (I think) rather good. Later on, when I started composing non-songs such as piano solos and a symphony in five movements in – of all crazy things –
the style of Mahler
, I came up with some genuinely (again, I
think
) lovely melodies. The last movement –
Chorale
– had a most effective theme.
* * * *
I wrote my first song in 1943. I was seventeen. It was not too dreadful a beginning in that the lyrics were somewhat “different” in concept. (I thought) In those days, the majority of songs had a verse and a chorus, a practice rarely followed today.
IT LOOKS LIKE RAIN
Verse:
Weather man
says skies are sunny.
Says it’s fair and warm
all the day
Weather man
Something is funny
I can see storm clouds
coming my way.
Chorus:
It looks like rain on my love
The dark clouds above
are chasing the sunbeams away
The ugly clouds of despair
Are hovering near today
Not long ago
Skies were blue
Blessed by the magic of you.
Now you are gone
and it seems
gone are the wonderful dreams
That I had
The days go by
and are gone
and though I go on
It’s different not having you near
The skies are gray and obscure
where there was sunshine before
It looks like rain
on my love affair.
My next lyric – still 1943 – succumbed to the obvious. (The music crammed with four-note chords.)
Verse:
I’ve got something on my mind
Something I must do
I have waited long to find
Someone just like you
You may well believe me
I am just that way
When I hold your hand
and say:
Chorus:
I’m in love with you
No words are simpler
Than these few
And yet the simple words are best
When they are really true
I’m in love with you
And yet that statement isn’t through
It needs your love so sweet and tender
To really render it true.
You and I should always be together.
Our hearts match forever and a day.
You and I should be birds of a feather
I know that this is true
That’s why I say
I’m in love with you
I know that I will always be
There’s only one thing that I ask
Please say that you love me.
* * * *
My creative drive definitely went out the window with my third song. I must have realized its inferiority (I hope that’s a word) because I credited it to an unknown writer, one Guy Casman.
Verse:
In Russia there’s a river
called the Volga
and on its banks
there lives a girl named Olga
Every day she goes rowin’
Olga on the Volga
And she’s not alo-ne
Chorus:
When you’re floatin’ down the Volga with Olga
and she looks at you with Russian eyes of blue
And you’re floating down the Volga with Olga
There’s really only one thing to do (kiss sound effect)
So you do not wish to leave Miss Olga
and for her love you pine
You had better ask her quickly
to be your wedded one
Or Olga to Volga
Olga to Volga
I’ll ask Olga to be mine
I obviously thought that translating “I’ll go” with “Olga” was terribly clever. It was terrible all right.
That summer, I even wrote a song to the Y.M.C.A. camp where I was a cabin leader. In two parts no less –
Soprano
and
Harmony
.
Chorus: (Mercifully there is no verse.)
Our lips
will sing your praise.
Our hearts will always
hold a special place for you.
We’ll dream
of happy days
in which we always gained
by learning something new.
The years will pass
yet even as they wane
The pleasant memories
will still remain
But now
when we are boys
we’ll fondly say your name
and sing this song to you
Camp Brooklyn, you
!
While I was a cabin leader, I met the son of a well-known square dance caller who told me that, when I went to a N.Y. music publisher to play my songs, (which I did) someone in an adjoining room would be transcribing it in case it was any good. I still don’t know whether to believe that or not.
* * * *
Clearly overwhelmed by creative zeal, I even made a song from Chopin’s
Etude in E
.
Chorus:
Only a dream.
A distant view.
Only a wish
that never has come true
and lived for me.
Wishing for something that
I can never have
is nothing new.
Only a beat
within my heart.
A fairy tale
that never had a start.
A fantasy.
Love! I feel the magic growing
of your love but there’s no knowing
Who she is or where she is
Because
she’s just a gleam.
Just a hope that clings
and always brings
only a dream.
Well, the melody was beautiful anyway.
* * * *
There were others; I was grinding them out like sausages: SOMEONE I KNOW, ROLLIN’ ALONG, ONLY YOU, UNDER A SPELL, THE LAMP I SEE FROM MY WINDOW, EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU, etc. Often not completed or not worth completing.
My next songwriting opportunity came in 1943, at Cornell University when I enlisted in the A.S.T.P. (Army Specialized Training Program.) Actually, I can’t recall having spare time for song writing. At any rate I’m sure I couldn’t have thought up a rhyme for our residence hall named Cascadilla.
Next came the Infantry (A.S.T.P. students tossed into it – not too happily.) World War Two limited my song writing opportunities. I
did
enter a contest (sponsored by the Army I assume) to write an Army oriented lyric for an already existing song. Mine was:
Forgotten first line
When you hear those 88’s (German shell)
Dig without ado, digga-do, do, do.
Dig without ado, digga-do.
I didn’t win – or place in that contest.
One more song militarily “inspired.” This one written while I was on guard duty in England. (December 1944) Not too difficult to assess my frame of mind. I titled it LA VALSE DE MÉMORIE. Ouch.
Verse:
Night’s are long in the winter.
They’re bleak with the cold and the dark.
The warmth of my youth
has departed.
The fingers of time
left their mark.
Chorus: (or as I wrote it: TRISTEMENT: ouch again.)
When I am alone
with the night
and the winds lonely moan.
The memories I’ve made
whisper by
in an endless parade.
I see days I’ve spent
and how little I’ve gained.
I see good I’ve meant
and how promises waned.
The ghosts of the past
flutter into my room
and the host of them last
as the stars and the moon.
But all night must pass
and the darkness must blend into day.
So winter through fall
These are things
that the past
sends my way.
Gone is my youth
like the leaves from the trees.
All I have left
are my memories.
A few weeks later, my Division (89
th
) ended up in Germany. More fun than my song. At least I got a novel out of it.
* * * *
Next came college – The University of Missouri, (1946) – after several years of post-Army employment. I went to Missouri because 1. They had a well-regarded Journalism School and 2. It was the only college that would accept me with no language credit. The high school I attended – God knows why – Brooklyn Technical High School – didn’t require a language. I could have, I suppose, enrolled in a technical college, like M.I.T. or CalTech but I didn’t want to. I was immersed in creative aspiration by then and opted to 1. Write stories. 2. Write songs – too. I think I wrote more songs in that period (1946-1949) than I ever did before – or since for that matter.
My initial venture was for a J. School Musical – IN KING ARTHUR – written and (I believe) directed by an upper classman named Don MacKay. (Sp. could be off.) I wrote several songs for that show. Its leading man was a student named Stanley Nierstedt. (Later, turning professional, he became Stanley Grover. I think Grover was his middle name.) For him, I wrote:
Verse:
I met her in a bookstore
Fate meant that we should
For she’s the one I’ve looked for
And now I’m lost for good
Chorus:
My heart is taken.
I’m free no longer.
The cares of waiting
will drift away
I never thought that I
would ever see
The day I’d find the one
Just meant for me.
And I can see now
That it’s forever.
I’ll not be free now
The spell is cast
My dreams are over
I’ve found my love
My heart is taken
Taken at last.
* * * *
Also, in Act One, a novelty song was performed by Mel Mandel – who has, since, gone on to great success as a playwright-songwriter.
Come to think of it, maybe it wasn’t Mel at all. The words of the verse indicate a female vocalist. However…
Verse:
Somehow I’ve acquired a fondness
For 6’2” of handsome blondness.
And even though he’s nuts, I love him.
If your lover is insane
You’ll appreciate the pain
Of every little thing I give to
that nutty guy who does the things I go through