Book of Changes – Micah Gilbert

In 1993 Micah released his 11-song solo CD, Book of Changes (Mellifluid), co-produced with New-York-based producer/engineer Garry Rindfuss and recorded at John Keane’s studio in Athens. The CD captured the admiration of listeners and critics alike, twice earning invitations to perform at South-by-Southwest (SXSW) in Austin, Texas.

Find Book of Changes at Spotify, here,

or at Apple Music, here.

You can also find Book of Changes at other streaming services.

Album notes:

This is the reissue and remaster of the 1993 CD “Book of Changes” by Micah Gilbert.

Produced by Garry Rindfuss and Micah Gilbert.

Recorded and mixed by Garry Rindfuss at John Keane Studios, Athens, GA, April 12-27, 1993.

Pre-mastering by John Keane.

Artwork and photography by Katherine Drake Chial.

Production coordinated by Suzanne Gilbert.

Murray Attaway appears courtesy of Geffen Records.

Special thanks go to Eric Chial & Katherine Chial for making this record possible; Garry Rindfuss for bringing his talent, commitment, and energy to the project; John Keane for his invaluable assistance in the studio, and John & Jo Keane for their hospitality; all the musicians for their time and talent; Russell Carter for his advice and watchful eye; Dan Carroll for last-minute details; Mike Manieri and John Golden for taking a chance; Kathy Vinson, Chelsea Snelgrove, Jason Edwards, and Rick Strickland for their longstanding support; Magister Ludi and fans for good memories; my family and friends, who have been supportive of my efforts; and finally, Suzanne for her love, advice, and faith. This music is dedicated to Suzanne Gilbert and Elizabeth Gilbert.

1) One and One

Drums: Scott Stewart
Bass: John Keane
Vocal, electric & acoustic guitars, piano: Micah Gilbert
Backing vocals: Micah Gilbert, Garry Rindfuss, John Keane

2) Domino (Birds Sings)

Drums: Scott Stewart
Bass: Dave Furlong
Vocal, acoustic & electric guitars, piano: Micah Gilbert
French horn, muted trumpet: Shannon Mims
Saxophone: Melinda Kershner
Tambourine: Garry Rindfuss
Backing vocals: Micah Gilbert, Garry Rindfuss

3) This Restless Time

Drums: Scott Stewart
Bass: Dave Furlong
Vocal, electric & acoustic guitars, piano, organ: Micah Gilbert
Electric guitar: Eric Chial
Tambourine: Garry Rindfuss
Backing vocals: Micah Gilbert, Garry Rindfuss

4) Brighter Than the Day

Drums: Scott Stewart
Bass: John Keane
Vocal, acoustic & electric guitars, piano: Micah Gilbert
French horn: Shannon Mims
Clarinet: Melinda Kershner
Percussion: Garry Rindfuss

5) Waking from a Dream

Drums: Scott Stewart
Bass: Dave Furlong
Vocal, acoustic 6-string guitar, electric guitars, piano: Micah Gilbert
Acoustic 12-string guitar: Eric Chial
Bagpipes: Adam Gilbert
Backing vocals: Murray Attaway, Micah Gilbert, Garry Rindfuss

6) The Chain Breaking

Drums: Scott Stewart
Bass: John Keane
Vocal, acoustic 6-string guitar, electric guitars: Micah Gilbert
Acoustic 12-string guitar: Eric Chial
Organ: Damon Denton

7) Her Paradise

Drums: Scott Stewart
Bass: John Keane
Vocal, electric & acoustic guitars: Micah Gilbert
Harmony vocal: Murray Attaway
Accordian: Shannon Mims
Tambourine: Garry Rindfuss
Handclaps: Micah Gilbert, Garry Rindfuss, Eric Chial

8) Silk and Sand

Drums, congas: Scott Stewart
Bass: Dave Furlong
Vocal, acoustic & electric guitars, piano: Micah Gilbert
Electric guitar: Eric Chial
Cello: Jane Scarpantoni

9) Shadowland

Drums: Scott Stewart
Bass: David Furlong
Vocal, acoustic & electric guitars, organ, congas: Micah Gilbert
Congas, floor tom, cabasa: Garry Rindfuss
Congas (with mallets), claves: Mark Cooper Smith

10) Cloaks & Daggers

Drums: Scott Stewart
Bass: Dave Furlong
Vocal, acoustic & electric guitars: Micah Gilbert
Electric guitar: Eric Chial
Piano: Damon Denton
Saxophone: Melinda Kershner

11) Sparrow’s Song

Vocal, acoustic guitar: Micah Gilbert
Cellos & cello arrangement: Jane Scarpantoni
Recorders: Adam Gilbert

This is the reissue of the 1993 CD “Book of Changes” by Micah Gilbert.

Produced by Garry Rindfuss and Micah Gilbert.

Recorded and mixed by Garry Rindfuss at John Keane Studios, Athens, GA, April 12-27, 1993.

Pre-mastering by John Keane.

Artwork and photography by Katherine Drake Chial.

Production coordinated by Suzanne Gilbert.

Murray Attaway appears courtesy of Geffen Records.

The lyrics:

One And One

On about the day I’m going to go
What will come my way is going to show
Even if the day is moving slowly
I knew a man who took his time with everything
His home was neat, his cupboards always clean
He kept his Book of Changes on the shelf
One and one is never quite like two
No matter what the test you put it through
No matter who you end up talking to

I saw a picture torn from a book
A picture of age with an old-fashioned look
I took it and kept it to hang on my wall
It’s there to remind me if I need it at all
I found a letter that I never sent
An old conversation that I never meant
It kept in a drawer for more than a year
I’ll write it all over, so the words will be clear

Domino

She looks down at the water
With secrets to hide, she keeps to herself
Birds sing down by the water
She listens from her room, she likes to hear their tune

Old man pulls out his pockets
Looking for some change, and counting up his days
Birds sing down by the water
And once in a while, he’ll feed them if he can

My domino, our life just flows
And we just roll on as it goes
My domino, what can we show
What of our secrets can be told

She waits down by the water
For someone to appear, but she really isn’t there
He sits waiting and thinking, and listens to a tune
A solitary tune . . . that birds sing

Oh my domino, our life just rolls
And we just go on as before
My domino, what can we know
What of our secrets can unfold

My domino, our life just flows
And we just roll on as it goes
My domino, what can we show
What of our secrets can be told

This Restless Time

These common things I have I keep to soothe me
These pieces that I save, they mark my time well
These memories that serve better than a simple word
Flow like the water does, soar like the bird flies

No form defines this restless time
No rod divines this world of mine

Our single histories are built on quicksand
These cradled images, the sum is more than nothing
And nothing comes to rest, these waters labour endlessly
To etch these cavern walls that tell our stories

No form defines this restless time
No rod divines this world of mine

Someone left the door ajar
Someone let the candle burn down
Someone let the wind blow through
Someone let the candle burn away

I see a place and it looks familiar
I see a face but it’s turning its gaze to look away
I hear a sound but it’s weak and distant
I hear a voice but I think my mind’s playing tricks on me
After all I recall what I cannot reach

These simple things we keep as our reminders
Are bits and pieces sewn and tightly woven
These patchwork images of things we’ve chosen
We hold like parachutes in case we need them

No form defines this restless time
No rod divines this world of mine

Someone left the door ajar
Someone let the candle burn down
Someone let the wind blow through
Someone let the candle burn away

Someone let the candle burn down
Someone let the wind blow through
Someone let the candle burn away

Brighter Than The Day

Could this thought ever land, so I could take it on
Sometimes I think my world’s not big enough
And could I close my eyes, so I could get some rest
Sometimes I think my world’s not small enough

Everywhere the people crowding
Catch the train and find the way back home

And everything I feel, and all that I have known
Is like a raindrop on a forest floor
And everywhere that rain is like a glistening sun
I feel it’s brighter than the day before

Everywhere the streets are empty
Everyone has found their way back home

Later, much later
Don’t pin me down, I’m still looking
Round and round the cobblestones
Dancing down this street alone
Looking back, no looking back
Find the harmony

What should I make of this, what am I thinking
Now I go – I’m thinking far too much again
And in a moment’s breath, I can begin to feel
Down deep the root is breathing for the tree

Later, much later
Don’t pin me down, I’m still looking
Round and round the cobblestones
Dancing down this street alone
Looking back, no looking back
Find the harmony

Could this thought ever land, so I could take it on
Sometimes I think my world’s not big enough
Sometimes I think my world’s not small enough

Waking From a Dream

Wind through the trees shaking the boughs
Boy in a dream talking out loud
Man on the street reading a verse
The sound of this place drowning his words
The look of faces turning into stone

Light of the moon, ashen and soft
Painting the sky in colours of earth
Shadows and light like stains on a wall
Cast in the sand are ageless in form
Weathered portraits painted in the dirt

Calm becomes the wind
Distant like a sound
Colder than a stone
Older than the sea
And I –
I’m waking from a dream
And I –
I’m learning how to speak
And I –
I’m learning how to be

Colours of dawn drip from the sky
Leaving the world with nothing to hide
Faces of walls burnished by sun
Shadow the dreams waiting their turn
Silence broken, shattered by the day

Calm becomes the wind…

Wind through the trees shaking the boughs
Boy in a dream talking out loud

La – la – la

The Chain Breaking

What is it here that keeps us to ourselves
What is it here that makes us who we are
What is it here that keeps us from ourselves
What is the shadow that we call ourselves

But tonight I feel the chain breaking
As your eyes tell me more than you’ll say
The touch of your hand on my shoulder
Leads me away – and I cry

I remember things that came before
An infant, a child, a troubadour
I feel the pulse that’s beating in my heart
I feel the pain in learning where to start

But tonight I feel the chain breaking
As your eyes tell me more than you’ll say
The touch of your hand on my shoulder
Leads me away – and I cry

What is it here that keeps us to ourselves
What is the shadow that we call ourselves
Standing face to face we pantomime
We’re architects in dreams of our design

I’m a lot like you
I’m a lot like you

Her Paradise

She wears her darkness like a coat
It fits her all too well to toss it out
She sleeps in the morning, and howls at the night
There’s no apology in her paradise

You’ll find her in places she can haunt
She lives in crowded rooms inside your head
She won’t take your money, but she’ll want your soul
She needs not what you have, but what she can own

Oh . . . she’s not a child but she can hide
Oh . . . she’s building a solitary tower of stone
That you can never climb

She’ll try to keep you on the ground
She’ll stand well but you’ll be upside down
She won’t want your promise, but she’ll make you pay
She won’t mind telling you it’s her holiday

Oh . . . she’s not a child but she can cry.
Oh . . . she’s building a solitary tower of stone
To keep you locked outside

She wears her darkness like a coat
It fits her all to well to toss it out
She won’t want your story, just your sympathy
She’ll show you to her door, but you won’t find a key
To her paradise

Silk and Sand

A word’s not heard above the din
But it don’t bother me at all, they’re empty
Any way you choose, you’ve got to choose
You choose your own mistakes to make, you think
A laughing face on painted wall
There is illusion to be found among us
A sound’s not heard above the noise
That is created by our voice
But I am listening

We roll back stones to dig the earth
Is there a clue that’s buried here among us
In ruins under blood red sky
I heard a sound I heard a cry, nobody there
A laughing face on painted wall
There is illusion to be found among us
A sound’s not heard above the noise
That is created by our voice
But I am listening

One lonely step on a stair with a voice of silk and sand
Hear it wall to wall, it’s echoing, and its ambient refrain
Like a soft and gentle rain upon a step
Through the door with your hand upon the rail
And you’re not sure where you’re going,
And you’re unsure where you’ve been,
And you’re looking for your balance as you falter going in

A word’s not heard above the din
But it don’t bother me at all, they’re empty
Any way you choose, you’ve got to choose
You choose your own mistakes to make, you think

Shadowland

Here in the jungle someone is crying
Here in the woods someone is sighing
And I heard a voice, and I saw you looking
And I turned around to stare in the tiger’s eyes

Here in the jungle nobody sleeps
And everyone’s hungry for someone to speak
So somebody spoke like a bull that was roaring
With a crack in the throat, and a voice up from shadowland

Here in this strange world I hear whispers
Here in this moment there’s nothing I cannot believe
Here in my four walls I was thinking
Looking for tigers, I might not like what I find

So I keep listening, and I keep thinking
I hear strange sounds somewhere in the dark

Here in the forest you can’t see the trees
Here in the jungle we get what we bring
And everyone’s looking but not very hard
For a pearl in the dirt on their own piece of shadowland

Here in this jungle everyone’s tired
And someone was thinking that someone might triumph
So somebody spoke, but we hated the question
Leaving a voice adrift down in shadowland

Here in this strange world…

So I keep listening, and I keep thinking
I hear strange sounds somewhere in the dark

Cloaks and Daggers

Do you believe in your innocence, could you stand a trial
And do you think that your words ring true from behind your smile
As you walk to the top of the stairs, do you like your portrait there
Have you covered all your mirrors with a cloth and a veil of tears
That cloak your youth in vain from years

Listen to the rain falling
Listen to the rain . . . fall . . . down

One today for that empty feeling, one tonight for your sleep
One again for the breakfast table, and one again for me
Which face will you learn to wear when you sit in your broken chair
Which man will you be today, what words have you learned to say
To calm you when you’re all alone

Listen to the rain falling
Listen to the rain . . . fall . . . down

I caught you watching from the corner of your eye
I saw you planning my breakdown, but I couldn’t reason why
But though your frail inventions seemed to lack a certain style
You caught me off guard, and I turned to you and smiled
I said, listen to the rain fall
Listen to the rain fall down

Do you think that your innocence is a face to wear
Do you believe in your broken logic, or do you even care
Have you found an alibi to clear your name as you watch the fire
One that keeps our tongues all tied, how many ways can you learn denial
Before you start your breakdown

Listen to the rain falling
Listen to the rain . . . fall . . . down

Sparrow’s Song

Did you hear the whisper of the sparrow’s song
Or hungry raven’s cry
Did you come to know these as a mournful tune
Or precious lullaby

You have heard the sounding sea
You have seen the wandering stars
And you have stood where many fell
And witnessed here the darkening clouds

And what the price to pay to walk these sweeping moments
In this measured time
Did you dance and laugh at morning’s offerings
And weep at jealous night

You have heard the sounding sea
You have seen the wandering stars
And you have stood where many fell
And witnessed here the darkening clouds

I look to the ones who have come before
In effort to name what I cannot see
I stumble and fall on words unsaid
Following thoughts that I cannot hold

Did you walk alone beneath this heaven’s clouds
To shroud yourself in sky
Did you lie for moments’ quiet
To keep from winter’s deep and bitter winds

You have heard the sounding sea
You have seen the wandering stars
And you have stood where many fell
And witnessed here the darkening clouds

Did you hear the sparrow’s song