Lindsay Smith: Listen

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I recorded my first album at Possum Hall Studios in New Hampshire in the summer of 1999, and I wrote this song the day I got home. As opposed to this album, which I recorded in whatever hours I could spare from the other parts of my life, Tales From the Fruitbat Vat was recorded in ten days. It was an experience very much like summer camp: all of our energy was directed towards a common creative goal, and by the end of the ten days, I felt like I’d known those guys forever. I am still very proud of that record, and I still owe a great debt of gratitude to Mac Ritchey and the other people who worked on it. The experience of recording that album opened up a whole new chapter of my life.

NEW ENGLAND

It’s been a long drive; I thought 95 would never end.
I missed your driveway twice, but that’s all right, and here I am.
I can’t believe your summer: perfect heat and open space.
I’m guessing you were right when you said I’d love this place

Because it looks just like the pictures: clapboard houses, luscious fields.
There are horses in the stable; fresh vegetables at every meal.
The dogs are sleeping in the shade;
They know they’ve got it made here in New England.

Downtown is the harbor, busy with the tourist crowd.
Laughter, drums, and children make a peaceful kind of loud.
You take me down the river and give me the $1.50 tour.
You tell me Maine is that way, but in this fog my view’s obscured.

It looks just like the pictures: chilly fog and lighthouse beams.
I wish I were a fishing boat to feel that lighthouse guiding me;
Just rolling down the rocky coast,
I’d make the most of my time in New England.

Oh, let’s not count the days.
I know I don’t have to tell you I wish I could stay,
But there’s so much waiting for me back down in that southern city.
On the long drive home, I’ll wonder how you are and if you miss me,

And you’ll look just like your pictures: hazel eyes and curly hair,
And when I think about New England I’ll think about you being there.
There’s so much of the world to see,
But I’ve left a piece of me up in New England.