Friends with the cold

Embracing hard times

We’ve reached the point where I’m going to be telling stories very much out of order. I have many, many, many stories yet to tell and songs to share from our time abroad this summer. But here we are months hence, with those stories untold and songs unshared. And I have new stories and songs that are more timely. So. Prepare for some place-and-time whiplash, beloved Adventurers.  

It’s only November, but Midwesterns know: Winter has arrived. 

I’ve never been a fan of the cold weather. Numb, stinging fingers; frozen toes; shivering. Darkness falls at like 4:30pm. You can’t play outside. Snow and ice makes things dangerous. And it seems to just last and last and last…

In the Midwest, the weather is pretty much always suboptimal. Winters are too long and too cold. Summers are too hot and too humid. There’s maybe two total months out of the year when the weather is absolutely ideal. 

But several years ago, I had a personal li’l epiphany: If you’re always complaining about the weather, that means you’re always upset. And like…you chose to live here, you know? So I stopped complaining about the weather and started embracing it. I made friends with the cold. 

Right now, in this early-onset winter, there’s much to gnash teeth about–the weather, yes, but it’s also been a difficult season of life. A winter of sorts. Painful endings. And the beginning of a new, unclear, and challenging journey.   

Winter isn’t so bad. It’s uncomfortable, but you bundle up and head out anyway. There’s a stark ugliness to winter, but there can be extraordinary beauty, too, like the almost religious peace and quiet of a heavy snow and the purple-orange early sunsets. 

And sure, the leaves are dead and the trees stark. But the barren foliage lets you see the shape of things better. You’ll see it if you walk in the woods: The arc of hills, the way land connects, how a riverbed looks when it’s dry.

In the silence, there is truth. In the temporary death, there is rest. In the seasons, there is always the promise of renewal.

So anyway, I wrote a song about embracing all that.

Lyrics

You're on a path. It's dark, it's the middle of the night. Your hands are getting frostbit. Better make friends with the cold.

Look back where you came from. It's bright ‘cause it's burning down. Look ahead where you're going. It's warm and glowing.

It's a long shot, when you have big thoughts. Don't you dare stop before the mercury drops. It's gonna be a long walk. Afraid you might get lost? Or maybe you’re all talk when it’s time to make friends with the cold

You chose this. You chose this path. It’s snowing sideways. Want to turn back anyways.

Don't bother fighting it. It's immeasurable. Immutable. Just pull your hat down lower. Pop your collar. Learn to shiver. Give the chill a warm welcome. Make friends with the cold.

There's only one way to go. And that's forward down the road, facing the cold.

Music Nerdery

One of my “moves” as a writer is to start with a snapshot of something–a moment, whatever–and then spend a lot of time trying to paint that picture for my reader or listener. This is absolutely one of those songs. 

I picture myself, on a path in the dark woods, at night. Loaded pack. Snowing, wind blowing. It’s so cold. I wonder what the hell I was thinking. 

I look back at where I came from. It’s so tempting to give up and head back there. But I know it’s a mirage of sorts–it seems bright and warm, but that’s just because it’s on fire, burning to the ground. So I look ahead, and see something so much better. But it’s a long way off. And “the night is long and full of terrors,” you know? So what do I do? 

I guess you do what you know is right, and step forward. Even though it’s hard and scary and long.   

I haven’t counted, but I’m pretty sure this song has the fewest words of any I’ve written. There’s just 146. And it’s funny, because when I began writing it, I was thinking I had a lot to say. I planned to have long verses and really dig into the nuance, complexities, and imagery of winter and this struggle and all that. 

I think if I hadn’t had a deadline, I would have noodled on this one forever and maybe would never have finished it. But I had a show date, and this message about making friends with the cold was one I needed to sing out loud for myself, in front of people. So I buckled down and finished it. I was actually finished before I realized it. I wrapped up the second verse’s lyrics, then wanted to do something with a bridge, and that came to me almost immediately, and then I stepped back at the two verses, three choruses, and two bridges and–hey, it’s done. I don’t think I have anything else I need to say here. 

I’m a huge proponent of making a piece of published writing, be it a story, article, or a song, exactly as long or as short as it needs to be. This song told me it was done, so I abided.

This was a song for which I actually had the chord progression first, as well as that intro bit where I riff for like 20 seconds. One beget the other, as it sometimes happens. And the notion of this friends with the cold thing was there right away. But I didn’t have any lyrics for it.

It’s funny, when I checked my notes (I’m not the only one who keeps a detailed spreadsheet of all his creative work, am I?), I noticed that I’d first started this song back in February 2022–that is, the end of last winter. Maybe I’d just run out of winter at that point, and I needed the next one. 

Anyway, I needed this song for this time, and that’s when it nudged me to finish writing it. 

Because the chord progressions were all just kinda there waiting for me to put words on them, it wasn’t difficult to complete once I sat down to do it. I spent probably two meaningful sessions writing lyrics. 

The song is basically in C#m. I like this key. The heart of it is the C#m chord, which is really tasty on the guitar. And the common chords that one uses with it include A and E, and the ringing open strings of those two chords are a bright counterpoint to the darker tone of the entirely barred C#m chord. And the V chord in the key, G#, also tastes so good, especially if you throw a 7 in there. 

(I also find myself writing in A major a lot these days–a key that shares some of those common chords with the key of C#m, including A, C#m, F#m, and E.) 

I usually like singing in the vocal range in those keys, too, which helps. 

The opening riff is really simple. I walk up to C#, strum C#m and pull off to C#m7, dance a little, and land on A7. The last time through, I resolve the A7 to G#7. That’s pretty much it!

The verses are just meant to groove over a simple progression with one twist: C#m - F#m - C#m - A7 - G#7. And I wanted the vocal line to kind of meander and float atop that groove. (Lots of self-indulgent vocalizing. I regret nothing.)

Then the chorus kind of sonically opens up by moving to the A chord. It’s just A - C#m - E - G#7. 

I often want at least three musical ideas in my songs, but although the intro, verse, and chorus gave me that three, I felt like it needed a little more. And as I’d been futzing with some chords and voicings, I found myself really wanting to include a B chord in there. It provided the illusion of a key shift–some aural interest–that I really wanted to hear in the song. So I crafted a bridge and anchored it on the B chord. 

It’s also a nice moment for a soloist to dig in the first time it shows up. It’s B - E - B - E - B - A7 - G#7. The second time it comes around, I added lyrics, then run it right into a third and final chorus, and Bob’s your uncle.

Alright then. Here’s the song again if you missed it up top.