[stylist] Feedback request please

Brad Dunse' lists at braddunsemusic.com
Sun Oct 30 03:24:24 UTC 2011 

Barbara,

Try either 
<http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html>clicking 
this link or going to: http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html

And then scroll down to find the link to play the MP3 in either hi fi or low fi

Thanks.

Brad


On 10/29/2011  08:41 PM Barbara Hammel said...
>I liked it.  I couldn't access the links, 
>though.  I want to hear that song. Barbara Let 
>every nation know whether it wishes us well or 
>ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any 
>burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, 
>oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival 
>and the success of liberty.--John F. Kennedy 
>-----Original Message----- From: Brad Dunse' 
>Sent: Saturday, October 29, 2011 6:30 PM To: 
>Writer's Division Mailing List Subject: 
>[stylist] Feedback request please Feedback of 
>any willing sort is welcome :). Pasted from Word 
>so for me carriage returns "look" extra but I 
>don't think they  actually appear as such 
>visually, not sure though. Vietnam Memorial Wall 
>With gear hanging over both shoulders, canvas 
>pack-straps and their buckles digging in my 
>sweat-drenched skin, nervous fingers on both 
>hands re-gripping their assigned provisions 
>every ten steps, I huffed my way through the 
>crowds of uniformed soldiers. Picking my way 
>across the grounds into a slightly wooded area, 
>I finally was able to drop my bags with a deep 
>sigh, flex my shoulders, and stretch my back a 
>bit. The tree allowed a shady escape from the 
>baking sun. Mid-morning temps were already in 
>the 80’s with matching humidity­they said it 
>would be like this­; and the mercury was meant 
>to reach into the 90’s today. Under the cover 
>of shade, I took in the action around me; and in 
>amazement, I began to wonder what the day might 
>look like in hindsight. A bit nervous of what to 
>expect, I mean the sight of battle experienced 
>Vietnam soldiers walking about, and my taking 
>part in something like this 
, I knew I would 
>have a new friend  or two by days end. Looking 
>about, I wondered which one of the many souls 
>out there would become my new friend. Finally, 
>two gents approached asking if I was who I was. 
>Once I affirmed it, we shook hands, chatted a 
>minute, and opened up our packs. I sat down on a 
>stool, opened up a case, and started fiddling 
>around with my guitar a bit. No, I wasn’t in a 
>base camp located in Vietnam, I was on the State 
>Capitol grounds in St. Paul, Minnesota; at a 
>kickoff event for what the governor of Minnesota 
>declared as Vietnam Day. So why was I there? It 
>wasn’t because I served a tour in Vietnam, I 
>was born about a decade and a half too late for 
>that. Besides my age (though I probably didn’t 
>know it at 18-years old), there was a hereditary 
>disease slowly scattering throughout my retinas 
>affecting my peripheral and night vision which 
>likely would have sent me back 4F, preventing me 
>from serving in the military. If that would have 
>not stopped my being shipped out, eventually 
>from mere survival of the fittest, some Asian 
>would have carved my name in the Memorial Wall 
>with the business end of his weapon. So just 
>exactly what was I doing there at Vietnam Day? I 
>was invited by a grass roots effort to come and 
>play some music, sort of 1960’s protest style, 
>only we weren’t protesting, we were joining 
>the proclamation and recognition of the brave 
>men and women who served in Vietnam. A 
>compilation CD of Vietnam songs designed to help 
>heal emotional wounds, and not let the world 
>forget what suffering went on back then was 
>released, and a song I co-wrote was picked as 
>the featured song for the CD. The song I wrote 
>with two other writers is called “The Wall.” 
>The folks that put on the compilation project 
>wanted me to come out and play some music, and 
>of course play the featured song on the CD. So 
>we set up the small gear out on the large 
>grounds of the celebration and started playing 
>tunes. We played for children, fellow musicians, 
>curious event attendees, friends and families of 
>soldiers who stopped to listen, and then they 
>came. One of the gentlemen who invited me 
>rounded the corner with a group of Viet Vets, 
>metals they earned clinking as they milled about 
>and then he said, “Brad, why don’t you play 
>your song for these gentlemen?” I will tell 
>you, I’ve played for many people at my gigs, 
>but never had I been this nervous. I stared out 
>with what vision I could muster, and saw these 
>amazing souls standing before me, who all but a 
>handful of decades ago were scared, brave young 
>men watching their buddies tore apart right next 
>to them in fox holes, on the battle field, and 
>riding in jeeps they drove; facing unknown 
>emotional battles of uncertainty whether the 
>local people there approaching them, men, women 
>or children all equal in ability; were allies of 
>safety, or enemies about to cut them down. But 
>here they were, standing anxiously, staring at 
>me, wanting to hear the song we’d written for 
>them and their buddies; and me desperately 
>hoping we had gotten what they felt inside, 
>right. I swallowed hard and slow, strummed a few 
>strums on my guitar to anchor myself a bit, and 
>started to sing: When you were searching for my 
>name today I saw you standing there Man you look 
>different With that silver in your hair Me, I 
>haven’t changed a bit Still all of twenty-one 
>That’s the thing about us spirits We’re 
>forever young At the wall 
, here at the wall 
>Mid-way through the song, withh a quivering lip 
>and doubts I could even make it all the way 
>through without choking up, I began to feel a 
>reverence for these men stronger than ever 
>before; men who endured not only a very 
>different battle out on the field and in the 
>jungle, but also that unexpected one of betrayal 
>soon after the planes wheels screeched the 
>tarmac of home. I don’t think one strand of my 
>hair laid flat the entire length of the song, 
>but I did make it through to the end. When 
>finished, I was immediately swarmed with 
>soldiers shaking my hand 60’s style, patting 
>me on the back and profusely thanking me for 
>writing the song. All the while it was me 
>declaring indeed it was I who owe them thanks, 
>and it’s only a shame that the song had to be 
>written at all. That was one of the, if not the, 
>most nervous experience I’d ever had playing 
>for anyone. Prior to “The Wall” being 
>written, I had been thinking pretty heavy on 
>writing a song about Vietnam. Considering it, I 
>had decided what better topic to write on than 
>the wall, maybe the Traveling Wall? I’d went 
>back up on the National Memorial website, and 
>spent hours up there reading profile entries 
>that folks left for their loved ones. There were 
>old goodbyes and present tense conversations: 
>words from old high school buddies, family 
>members keeping up a vigil, neighborhood friends 
>who popped in after thinking about them, school 
>teachers who wrote shortly after the news, and 
>of course those uniquely bonded souls who served 
>with them in the war 
; excuse me 
, “police 
>ce action.” Reading the entries was nearly an 
>addiction for me, I couldn’t help myself. I 
>was up on their site before dinner time, and 
>finally hunger coupled with drooping eyes pulled 
>me off when the sun popped up the next morning. 
>After spending the night reading droves of 
>profiles of 21-year olds who never came back, I 
>so much wanted to write a song about Vietnam and 
>the wall now more than ever. About a week and a 
>half from that day, having knocked around some 
>ideas for a song, I open up my email and see a 
>message from my writing pal. Unbeknown to him, 
>or anyone really as I had not told anyone I’d 
>been drawn to write such a song, other than 
>maybe my wife, I opened up a message from him 
>wanting to know if I want in on a song about the 
>Vietnam Wall and the soldiers. Naturally I was 
>surprised and said sure and a few days later we 
>had what is the current version of The Wall. I 
>often wonder, after nearly two weeks of milling 
>it around, surfing the web, staying up all night 
>mesmerized by what I was reading, putting myself 
>in the shoes of those kids and their surviving 
>families, not saying anything to anyone about my 
>desire to write such a song about the Vietnam 
>Wall, and then to be approached with this 
>opportunity? ­I don’t know­is that just a 
>simple coincidence? Or could there have been 
>more to it than that? The Wall has been played 
>at a variety of places ranging from major 
>commercial country radio, to web stations, to 
>memorial ceremonies, to my own gigs; and I am 
>very humbled it will be performed by a youth 
>band raising brows up and down the east coast, 
>as they play it as part of their invitation to 
>perform at the National Memorial event in 
>Washington DC this Veterans Day on November 11. 
><http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html>Hear 
>  the song in it’s entirety and read the 
>lyrics at: 
><http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html>http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html 
>Brad Dunse "The naive believes everything, But 
>the sensible man considers his steps." 
>--Proverbs http://www.braddunsemusic.com 
>http://www.facebook.com/braddunse 
>http://www.twitter.com/braddunse 
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Brad Dunse

"This world is but a canvas to our imaginations." --Unknown

http://www.braddunsemusic.com

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