Nearly every morning I wake up with what feels like a literal heavy heart, even though I am very lucky in terms of my circumstances during this shocking pandemic. I live with a human (my husband, Robert Rosen) and a cat (Oiseau), both of whom are comforting, funny, and just great to have around. However, I have family and friends who live far away as well as friends who are nearby but whom I can’t see anyway. Missing these loved ones, I began to write a song called “I Can’t Touch You.” Then, in early April, a supermoon occurred—a true bright spot that allowed my mind to soar off into the heavens (despite not being visible when I braved the cloudy outdoors to see it), and that image found its way into my song, now called “I Can’t Touch You (Supermoon).”
Take 5: Feeling it, but the ending didn't work out.
When, around this same time, NPR’s Tiny Desk Contest, which I’d entered the past four years, extended its deadline, I decided to do a home (of course!) video of the song to submit. Bob set up the tripod and iPhone facing the corner of our apartment that has the contest’s requisite desk, and we began to record—take after take, as it turned out. At first I kept making lyric or chord mistakes—new song!, not to mention that I’m used to working with two amazing musicians, Joan Chew and Graig Janssen, rather than going it alone. Also, I started out wearing a shiny green pajama top—since PJs are the fashion of the day—and singing with no mic. This version included a dramatic soft-verse-to-rocking-chorus/sitting-on-desk-to-jumping-up action that was kind of cool. But when I did a take with the mic, the sound was much better, and at that point I'd changed into a velvety top whose colors went well with the artwork on the wall: Flying over Kansas, part of a puzzle series by Sonja Wagner, one of my near-yet-far NYC friends.
Final take, final frame.
So here is my video. I know you miss someone. I do too.