This song is more difficult, simply because of the strumming pattern. The chord changes are also more frequent during the chorus portion, but the chords themselves are about the same level of difficulty. Below is a video of me playing (and singing), so you can discern the strumming pattern.
Tab used:
G Dsus4 (xx0233)
Hello there, the angel from my nightmare
Em7 Dsus4/F# (2x0233)
The shadow in the background of the morgue
G Dsus4
The unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley
Em7 Dsus4/F#
We can live like Jack and Sally if we want
G
Where you can always find me
Dsus4
We'll have Halloween on Christmas
Em7 Dsus4/F#
And in the night we'll wish this never ends
G [this is also the starting chorus chord]
We'll wish this never ends
Chorus (G Em7 Dsus4 Cadd9)
G A7Sus4 (x02033) Em7* Dsus4
Cadd9 Dsus4/F# Cadd9
(I miss you,miss you)
You'll notice that this one is particularly difficult for me to sing. I miss my cue, and the strumming pattern makes it hard to sing while I'm playing. It's like trying to rub your head and pat your stomach at the same time, for lack of a better analogy.
You also might notice as you begin to play, that first working out the chords can be a chore. Your brain will know where it wants your fingers to move, but it takes quite a bit of effort and mental power to get your fingers to cooperate. Ever tried that little trick where you link your fingers together and flip your hands, so that your left hand is to your right and visa versa? A friend points to a finger you have to lift up, and more often than not, you'll lift the wrong one. It feels sort of like that.
Anyway, this song also made me think back to my first college concert: Blink-182. I was so proud that I had score tickets-- I was so excited when I saw them on sale that I didn't even think of how I would get there. Turns out the closes bus drops you about a 20 minute walk away, which really isn't that bad if you think about it. I walk everywhere in my hometown. What I didn't bargain for was walking along our lovely local pseudo-highway. Traffic lights, sure, but three lanes of traffic traveling about 50 mph.
What we talked about in class today reminded me of this moment. We had been talking about that "coming of age" moment, that moment when you realize that you are truly, utterly alone, with no one to rely on but yourself. The point of the conversation was that this is changing, now that everyone has a cell phone, and we can be alone without really being "alone". And yes, when I made this venture, I did have my phone, albeit my dinosaur flip phone from 8th grade that was too thick to fit comfortably on my pocket.
But even with my phone, the police at my fingertips if it came down to it, I felt at that moment utterly alone. And it's terrifying. I had done all the research I could beforehand, printed out a map of the area, planned my route; but the bus dropped me off in a different location than what I was expecting. So I stood there for a few seconds, then tried to discern which direction was the right one. Eventually, I stopped and knocked on a random door, asking which way the concert hall was. The man was nice enough, pointed me in the right direction, and wished me luck as if I were setting out on some medieval quest. I kind of felt like it, backpack slung over my shoulders, walking down a stretch of road with no highway, with a prepaid phone that had about 10 minutes worth left on it. I finally got to the pseudo-highway, but it only gets better from here. Those ditches by the side of the road? Well, it was my honorable option to walk either on the road side, and be whipped past by speeding cars, or tread safely through the brambles and burrs on the other side. I chose the latter. I won't go into details about how unpleasant it was, how scared I was, or how stupid I felt (mostly stupid by this point, since I could see the road with the concert hall). I came out in the parking lot covered in those burrs with the hooks on them. They were stuck to me, my bag, my towel.
But once I got there, I was fine. I was alone, and I was wary of my stuff and of everyone around me. But the concert was good, minus the constant weed smoking. I thought I'd be bright and leave a little early, since everyone would be calling taxis to pick them up. My second "coming of age" experience came the same night. I left at maybe 10:30 or 11pm, called a taxi and waited out front. I called back multiple times, but every time a taxi pulled up, it was for more than one person. And then they stopped coming. I found out later (much later) that by that point, they weren't allowing cars right by the hall, that you had to wait at the corner of the drive and this pseudo-highway. When I called back about the 5th time, the woman told me to wait at the end of the drive. So I did. It was almost midnight. And then it was 12:30. And that's when the last cop car at the end of the drive pulled away. It's always brightest right before it goes pitch black, right? And it was pitch black. I ended up calling my roommate for a ride. Turns out she had been at the same concert.
Well, point being that yes, while still being tethered with a (granted, crappy) phone, I still felt that gripping fear of being alone, way after dark, in an unfamiliar town. If I'd had to get back to campus by myself, that would've been a completely different story-- I probably wouldn't have gone to the concert in the first place. But that was my real coming of age moment (and twice in one night!). At least now though, I know that I won't flinch in the face of being alone at night with no one else to rely on.
-Kal
You also might notice as you begin to play, that first working out the chords can be a chore. Your brain will know where it wants your fingers to move, but it takes quite a bit of effort and mental power to get your fingers to cooperate. Ever tried that little trick where you link your fingers together and flip your hands, so that your left hand is to your right and visa versa? A friend points to a finger you have to lift up, and more often than not, you'll lift the wrong one. It feels sort of like that.
Anyway, this song also made me think back to my first college concert: Blink-182. I was so proud that I had score tickets-- I was so excited when I saw them on sale that I didn't even think of how I would get there. Turns out the closes bus drops you about a 20 minute walk away, which really isn't that bad if you think about it. I walk everywhere in my hometown. What I didn't bargain for was walking along our lovely local pseudo-highway. Traffic lights, sure, but three lanes of traffic traveling about 50 mph.
What we talked about in class today reminded me of this moment. We had been talking about that "coming of age" moment, that moment when you realize that you are truly, utterly alone, with no one to rely on but yourself. The point of the conversation was that this is changing, now that everyone has a cell phone, and we can be alone without really being "alone". And yes, when I made this venture, I did have my phone, albeit my dinosaur flip phone from 8th grade that was too thick to fit comfortably on my pocket.
But even with my phone, the police at my fingertips if it came down to it, I felt at that moment utterly alone. And it's terrifying. I had done all the research I could beforehand, printed out a map of the area, planned my route; but the bus dropped me off in a different location than what I was expecting. So I stood there for a few seconds, then tried to discern which direction was the right one. Eventually, I stopped and knocked on a random door, asking which way the concert hall was. The man was nice enough, pointed me in the right direction, and wished me luck as if I were setting out on some medieval quest. I kind of felt like it, backpack slung over my shoulders, walking down a stretch of road with no highway, with a prepaid phone that had about 10 minutes worth left on it. I finally got to the pseudo-highway, but it only gets better from here. Those ditches by the side of the road? Well, it was my honorable option to walk either on the road side, and be whipped past by speeding cars, or tread safely through the brambles and burrs on the other side. I chose the latter. I won't go into details about how unpleasant it was, how scared I was, or how stupid I felt (mostly stupid by this point, since I could see the road with the concert hall). I came out in the parking lot covered in those burrs with the hooks on them. They were stuck to me, my bag, my towel.
But once I got there, I was fine. I was alone, and I was wary of my stuff and of everyone around me. But the concert was good, minus the constant weed smoking. I thought I'd be bright and leave a little early, since everyone would be calling taxis to pick them up. My second "coming of age" experience came the same night. I left at maybe 10:30 or 11pm, called a taxi and waited out front. I called back multiple times, but every time a taxi pulled up, it was for more than one person. And then they stopped coming. I found out later (much later) that by that point, they weren't allowing cars right by the hall, that you had to wait at the corner of the drive and this pseudo-highway. When I called back about the 5th time, the woman told me to wait at the end of the drive. So I did. It was almost midnight. And then it was 12:30. And that's when the last cop car at the end of the drive pulled away. It's always brightest right before it goes pitch black, right? And it was pitch black. I ended up calling my roommate for a ride. Turns out she had been at the same concert.
Well, point being that yes, while still being tethered with a (granted, crappy) phone, I still felt that gripping fear of being alone, way after dark, in an unfamiliar town. If I'd had to get back to campus by myself, that would've been a completely different story-- I probably wouldn't have gone to the concert in the first place. But that was my real coming of age moment (and twice in one night!). At least now though, I know that I won't flinch in the face of being alone at night with no one else to rely on.
-Kal









