[stylist] Feedback request please

[Brad Dunse']

Lori,

Thanks. That war has always been different for me 
than other wars, probably because the 60's were, 
I don't know, the 60's. And even though I was 
pretty young, I just love that whole era. Much 
different than today. I was thinking we need a 
little more of: 
<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1KtScrqtbc>This Song in today's world.

Brad

On 10/29/2011  10:03 PM loristay at aol.com said...
>Brad, I loved the song.  I was around during the 
>Viet Namese conflict.  The airforce tried to 
>recruit me, but my eyesight wasn't strong 
>enough.  Discrimination, early on.  Oh well. 
>Lori -----Original Message----- From: Brad 
>Dunse' <lists at braddunsemusic.com> To: Writer's 
>Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org> Sent: 
>Sat, Oct 29, 2011 3:31 pm 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 80Â’s with matching 
>humidity­they said it would be like this­; and 
>the mercury was meant to reach into the 90Â’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 Â
, 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 wasnÂ’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 
>wasnÂ’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 didnÂ’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 1960Â’s protest style, 
>only we werenÂ’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 weÂ’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 
>havenÂ’t changed a bit Still all of twenty-one 
>ThatÂ’s the thing about us spirits WeÂ’re 
>forever young At the wall Â
, here at the wall 
>Mid-way through the song, with 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 donÂ’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 60Â’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 itÂ’s only a shame that the song had to be 
>written at all. That was one of the, if not the, 
>most nervous experience IÂ’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? IÂ’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 Â
; excuse me Â
, “police 
>action.” Reading the entries was nearly an 
>addiction for me, I couldnÂ’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 IÂ’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 itÂ’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

"If you're fishing buddy says 'Get me a hook will 
ya?' and you spill your tackle box reaching for 
your writing bag..." You might be a songwriter. --Capt'n Frank

http://www.braddunsemusic.com

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