Silas Meredith

It’s Sunday morning. You’re at a diner, eating eggs and toast. You have a flash of an idea for an opening line of a song; maybe it’s something on the menu; maybe it’s the cell phone conversation at the next table over; maybe it’s something you dreamt about. You write it down on your napkin and slip it in your pocket. When you get home, you make a sketch of the lyrics and chords, and you record the song. No back-up band, no fancy studio, no expensive microphone. These are the Paper Napkin Files.

ANTHEM listen Copyright 2008 Silas Meredith posted February 12, 2008
Hello Framily! This was recorded with friends in a basement in Eugene, OR in December 2007. The mixing mastermind is Matt Gordon, and the musicians are Peter Meredith, Joaquín Espinoza-Goodman, Matt Gordon, Brooks Barnett, Ohj Tavallai, Christopher Muchabaiwa, and Cody Simmons. Lyrics are by Ian Melchinger. More formal than the usual Paper Napkin File. These guys are incredible, so I hope you enjoy! We're scheduled to go into the studio in July 2008.
This flag is made of fire These walls are made of sea This past is made of bones This future is my brother’s gift to me Our glasses raised with pride No longer we’ll be slaves We cheer the ghosts outside We’re free, and bound, like water in the waves And if we have to die for this Our blood will flow like wine Our sons will toast us where we held the line Our fields and our dreams Are the harvest we have sown Red stones and wooden beams We fight today for all the seasons we have known Tomorrow we defend With schools and arms and friends My grandchildren will see The sun set on an old man who is free

JONAH listen Copyright 2007 Silas Meredith posted June 12, 2007
Look into my eyes when you lie Close your mouth and don’t talk when you kiss me Don’t you know I love it when you’re telling me stories Your pack of old half-truths, I smoke ‘em like Marlboro Lights You’re playing catch and release It takes two for underwater tango Making people lonely is your registered trademark But hook-line-and-sinker was never my forte It’s such a small, small pond for great a big fish But you may find yourself a tasty seafood dish It’s such a fine line Life is good inside of the whale Jonah never asked to be a prophet All he ever wanted was some shade and a soft bed Four walls and three square meals, but smelling like fish guts is the easy way out ‘cause you can shirk all your work Never have to sail when seas are stormy Hard to be ambitious when you’re comfortably rolling Through hurricane high seas and thunder and lightning It’s such a small, small pond for a great big fish But you may find yourself a tasty seafood dish It’s such a fine line It’s such a tiny distinction between eater and eaten So watch your back Your recreational hunting takes you deep in the forest So trace your tracks Your trail of butter-fried breadcrumbs might end up in a batter To fry you black So look into my eyes…