My first introduction to Chris Little was when my younger brother, and a bunch of his teenage buddies, got drunk on booze they stole form Ski World and robbed Chris' house in 1991. I can still see Steve Gore, the father of one of the other guys, showing me the story in the Brown County Democrat with a picture of Chris' Micky Mouse phone at The Daily Grind. "The Grind" hosted live, acoustic folk musicians on Saturday nights, and the coffee shop was the center of my social scene. I remember avoiding the Saturday nights Chris Little would play, sure he knew I was related to one of the bandits who took everything that plugged in the wall from his house while he worked a night job.
Eventually I met Tommy Simmons while hanging out at The Grind and we got to talking about music. I sang in the choir in high school, and used to play classical Double Bass before I moved from Indiana's capital city, but I had no real experience singing with artists outside of compulsively harmonizing to songs on the radio, much to the endless annoyance of my sister. Tommy said he has a folk duo and would like to invite me to come and give a swing at singing back up with them. His partner was Chris Little.
Little Merrie Simmons was born. It was 1992. I was twenty years old.
By 1993, I wrote my first song on a red Guild Chris let me borrow in a house on West 6th St when I was going to IU.
By 1994, I moved into the little house on Lanam Ridge that the bandits robbed. I lived there with Chris Little for 5 1/2 years.
Chris Little has always been a prolific songwriter, music lover and movie buff.
I learned a lot from Chris Little.
He taught me how to write songs.
He also taught me how to drink.
lyrics
Melancholy
I'm melancholy
I've got the blues
things could get much worse
could be that they do
the way that the wind blows
could change any time
I'm screenin' my phone calls
and you're on the line
Oh pretty baby
don't hang up the phone
keep tryin' to reach me
I'm here all alone
I'm stuck to the sofa
can't get to the floor
to pick up the phone
or answer the door
I'm drinking a cold beer
on a hot summer day
just watching the grass grow
stayin' in the shade
it seems that the wind has
shifted my way
I'm happy to be here
just wastin' away
I'm melancholy
I've got the blues
things could get much worse
could be that they do
the way that the wind blows
could change any time
I'm screenin' my phone calls
and you're on the line
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