How “Breathe Again” Was Born
It was in late fall of last year, November 16th. I was reading an article about how the arts might help promote the Green New Deal as they’d done back in the 1930s for FDR’s original New Deal. Thinking about how I might help as an artist blasted me into that near-trance state that composers know – physical paralysis as music comes into your mind, music with words and rhythm, a complete song that gradually shimmers away to a vague outline, like a short trailer for a movie you just saw. You hold so still, letting the mental sound transport you, and then try… try to remember….
I wrote down the first two verses, referring to it in my journal as “The Sun Song,” and spent the next several days pulling at it. There were many points I wanted to get across, but the main one was our need to move forward with alternative energy, not only for the sake of our physical wellbeing, but mental and emotional, too. You may recall that even before the pandemic hit, we were in the grips of growing collective insanity: suicides, school shootings, polarized politics, widespread self-medicating, and so many more symptoms of our messy human existence.
To me, our societal anxiety is a manifestation of a deeply troubled spirit, a new primary cause of which is the certainty that we are rushing towards destruction. It’s happening right in front of our eyes, so constant that it’s almost invisible: the recurring choking pollution, the temperatures that climb higher every year, the intense storms and fires, the melting glaciers and rising oceans, the mass extinctions. We don’t often dwell on these worsening issues; yet we can almost hear an underlying drumbeat of dread that comes from knowing deep down that failing to use this last chance to mitigate climate change will plunge us into unstoppable annihilation.
And so was born The Sun Song, which became Breathe Again, which became Plug into the Sun, which, after further reflection on the aesthetically funky word “plug,” went back to and remained Breathe Again.
For a week I played and sang the first two verses and chorus. Like rolling a ball uphill, each day I hoped that the exercise would bring me closer to revealing the answer at the top of the mountain: the song I’d first heard in my head! I worked out a bridge after eight days of this, but it just didn’t feel right. Then, on Thanksgiving morning, the elusive chords of the real bridge fell under my fingers. I had known it would be in a whole new bed of chords when a couple days earlier I had meditated on lyrics, digging into the idea that by healing the world we heal ourselves. As soon as I hit the first bridge chord sitting there on the flat sixth of the key, I knew how the rest of it went. The new lyrics then landed in a melody, and the song was nearly complete.
Two days later, I worked out the vocals of the final chorus. Early on, I knew I wanted harmony to end the song (which helped me find the bridge lyrics, by the way.) While absentmindedly singing it throughout the day, I found myself substituting “dream” for “breathe” without realizing it. Then it hit me: the song was rematerializing! Like a scroll unrolling itself, there was the extended message of the last chorus: the holistic idea that finally getting in sync with Mother Earth will allow us to breathe both physically and psychologically, to dream as the visionaries we are, to be free to create a better world, and to truly see again.
That fourfold message is sung by the high trio, setting it off from the other two trios of the final chorus – which yields nine vocal parts, meticulously worked out on that last day of November for a big choral ending – dense harmony that drifts away like dissipating smoke, letting the last line breathe on its own.
Why did so much time pass before I recorded it? Christmas, family, doubts, and the pandemic! But then I got a stimulus check! I started playing it again every day, made home recordings, shared with music friends, garnered advice and encouragement, and finally called Studio L.
It took four sessions to record. Piano, scratch vocal, and drums were first. Background vocals with my siblings Dan and Patti came next, followed by Rick’s solitary session to add the bass and guitar. The last session was to make a composite of three lead vocal takes, and to add effects. So fun!
Although this is the second song I’ve professionally recorded, this is my very first “release” to the digital world. Breathe Again was launched November 16, 2020, on the first anniversary of its conception. If you like it, please share it with your friends! I’ll keep you updated as it makes its journey onward!
Keyboard and lead vocal: Karen Shell
Bass, guitar, and drum sequencing: Rick Witkowski
Background vocals: Patti Davis and Dan Kuhn
Produced by Rick Witkowski at Studio L in Weirton, WV
Special thanks to Larry Hughes, Joanna Mihalik, and Tom Hagy for invaluable input during the weeks leading to recording; and much appreciation to my friends and colleagues who are helping to spread the song to a wider audience.
You can find Breathe Again on several streaming platforms like Pandora, Spotify, and iHeartRadio, or add to your digital collection through iTunes, Amazon, Apple Music, and the like.
