[Spoken Voice Lead-in] "Oh, East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet... Rudyard Kipling. I don’t think the poet was right with those lines—least not when it comes to regions of one nation. Our folk melodies of California might seem quite a bit different from the Bluegrass tunes of the Carolinas, but I believe East and West can meet and blend beautifully." [Intro] [10 bars: Starting with a soft fingerpicked G-chord on guitar, joined at bar 3 by a rolling banjo, then a soaring fiddle melody and mandolin chops] [Verse 1] The Appalachian mist is rising o’er the Blue Ridge wall Where the ancient spirits of the pines begin to softly call Half a world of dust and sky away from where I stand Looking out at Sonoma’s golden, sun-kissed rolling land It’s a different kind of timber and a different kind of stone But the wind plays through the branches with a high and lonesome tone. [Chorus] And the song bridges the distance from the coast out to the hills Between the redwoods' silence and the Appalachian rills It’s the same heart beating ‘neath a different colored sky Where the West meets the East in the twinkle of an eye One part mountain laurel and one part desert sand A melody that’s woven through the spirit of this land. [Interlude] [8 bars: A sweet, lyrical dialogue between the fiddle and mandolin over a steady guitar rhythm] [Verse 2] They say the banjo’s lonesome and the guitar’s made for dreams But they flow together naturally like two strong mountain streams I brought my California ways to the Carolina clay And I found a brand new rhythm in the middle of the day There’s a porch in Raleigh-Durham and a pier in Monterey And the music is the only map you need to find your way. [Chorus] And the song bridges the distance from the coast out to the hills Between the redwoods' silence and the Appalachian rills It’s the same heart beating ‘neath a different colored sky Where the West meets the East in the twinkle of an eye One part mountain laurel and one part desert sand A melody that’s woven through the spirit of this land. [Interlude] [8 bars: A bright, driving banjo solo with a Scruggs-style roll] [Verse 3] Now the rhythm’s picking up the pace, the evening’s turning cold The purple peaks of Tahoe turn to Carolina gold It’s the story of a nation in a simple three-chord strain The sunshine of the valley and the falling mountain rain We’re travelers on a journey and we’re never far from home As long as there’s a fiddle and a hollow wooden dome. [Bridge] [Music swells, vocals become more powerful] Oh, the poet said the twain won’t meet, he must have never heard The way a mandolin can rise just like a mockingbird Crossing every border, leaping every canyon wide With the spirit of the music as our only faithful guide! [Chorus] And the song bridges the distance from the coast out to the hills Between the redwoods' silence and the Appalachian rills It’s the same heart beating ‘neath a different colored sky Where the West meets the East in the twinkle of an eye One part mountain laurel and one part desert sand A melody that’s woven through the MAGIC. . . . . of THIS land. [Outro Instrumental] [4 bars: Lonely, beautiful fingerpicked acoustic guitar solo] [Remaining bars: Banjo, fiddle, and mandolin crash in for a sweeping, triumphant, and bright bluegrass finish] [END]
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