In Nashville, when we were helping a friend move, it always took one more person than any other town. Because almost everyone is musical most have a piano, and because everyone is musical, while you’re moving this heaviest of instruments, one of the movers is going to stop carrying and start playing as you strain along the sidewalk toward the U-Haul truck.
My favorite keyboardist, perhaps with the exception of when we’re helping someone move, is Jon Coleman. Jon plays with the physical energy of Jerry Lee Lewis but with more talent. He is something to hear and see. The road has taken Jon out through the states this summer, and I haven’t seen him in too long. At his last posting, he was in Fargo.
One of Jon’s friends is John Hiatt. Jon thinks so much of him that he named his son Hiatt. Because of my esteem for Jon, I started listening to and appreciating John Hiatt’s music and lyrics. Hiatt’s writing is meaningful and often mystical touching deep mythic themes of the soul which are too often lacking in Music City. One jewel that I have uncovered recently is Through Your Hands. Here are the lyrics and a link to John Hiatt singing it at the Franklin, TN Theater. It’s a fresh water spring for all of us travelers on life’s journey. Blessings on all you musicians traveling this summer…
Through Your Hands by John Hiatt
You were dreaming on a park bench
‘Bout a broad highway somewhere
When the music from the carillon
Seemed to hurl your heart out there
Past the scientific darkness
Past the fireflies that float
To an angel bending down
To wrap you in her warmest coat
And you ask, “What am I not doing?”
She says “Your voice cannot command.
In time, you will move mountains,
And it will come through your hands.”
Still you argue for an option
Still you angle for your case
Like you wouldn’t know a burning bush
If it blew up in your face
Yeah, we scheme about the future
And we dream about the past
When just a simple reaching out
Might build a bridge that lasts
And you ask, “What am I not doing?”
She says “Your voice cannot command.
In time, you will move mountains,
And it will come through your hands.”
So whatever your hands find to do
You must do with all your heart
There are thoughts enough
To blow men’s minds and tear great worlds apart
There’s a healing touch to find you
On that broad highway somewhere
To lift you high
As music flying
Through the angel’s hair.
Don’t ask what you are not doing
Because your voice cannot command
In time we will move mountains
And it will come through your hands
