Sean Sullivan

Writing lyrics is like panning for gold--you scoop a pile of dirt with enough shimmer in it, and then sift it diligently until everything shining back at you is worthy of jewelry. Sean Sullivan first began laboring over 'word trinkets' as a boy, while failing to sleep amid the orange glow of lava lamp. Over time, he learned to make the truth rhyme and then put it to a meter you can tap your foot to. With stories of hopeful desperados, broken heroes, lost innocence, and false gods, his lyrics sometimes sound as if humanity's confessional booth has been wire tapped and we're all invited to listen in on--and to join---the penance. An adaptable and unique wordsmith, he can create concepts from whole cloth or collaborate to help develop and polish the ideas of other artists.

 

#5 Suchergebnisse

An ode to New York City, as well as to the hometowns from which many a New Yorker moved, Never Make It Home is melancholy, but hopeful, song about the trade-offs between leaving and staying.
This lyric focuses on the notion of falling from grace. The verses lean into somewhat ambiguous imagery, meant to suggest the dichotomy between good and evil. The chorus is straightforward, describing a descent from high ground. In my head, it’s an up-tempo, bluesy rocker in the spirit of Ray Charles.
This is a blues song that laments the startling sudden, and recent, death of truth in modern Western culture. Whether you feel that it died at the hands of the media, the Internet, shallow self-serving politicians, or their followers, we can all agree that it’s fatally wounded. The music for this song needs gravel and anger, but should also evoke an arm-around-a-stranger’s-neck sing along at an Irish Bar, as if we’re partying at our own wake.
At the end of hope is surrender. We struggle. We lose more often than we wish, we routinely grind most contests to a draw, and, yes, occasionally we win. Those wins are the fuel to forge ahead. But this song is about running out of gas. It’s a lyric perhaps well-suited for a slow tempo, sparse instrumentals, and an understated atmosphere that lets bleakness take center stage.
The narrator in Tears Of Joy is in an apparently vulnerable position when he or she is surprised by an unexpected visitor, who finds the subject alone, disheveled, possibly drunk, and crying. Immediately, the narrator begins to cover his/her tracks, explaining away the evidence of despair.