Christine Lavin

Biography

Singer /songwriter /guitarist /concert artist, Christine Lavin, has recorded and released 13 solo albums of original material, sings her own and others' songs on three disks of the "Four Bitchin' Babes" (a group she founded, nurtured and performed in during the '90s) and has put together and produced 8 compilations showcasing the works of dozens of singer /songwriters.

Christine created, directed, produced, and taught performance courses at the "Martha's Vineyard Singer /Songwriters' Retreat"; two, month-long events that gathered thirty American songwriters on that island to meet, collaborate, and record new material in September of 1992 and 1993. She has won one NAIRD award, two New York Music Awards, four ASCAP composer awards, the Kate Wolf Memorial Award and the 2001 Backstage Bistro Award for Outstanding New York Singer /Songwriter of the Year. Her songs have been performed in concert by such artists as the Dartmouth Decibelles, the Washington D.C. Gay Men's Chorus, Scottish troubadour Brian McNeil, and international chanteuse Andrea Marcovicci.

In April of 1998 the two-disk tribute project "Big League Babe" was released on the 1800PRIMECD label (more than two dozen singer/songwriters recorded Christine's songs in secret and surprised her).

Her song "Sensitive New Age Guys" is in the long-running Off-Broadway production of "A. . . My Name Will Always Be Alice," and her science-based song "If We Had No Moon" will be included in an album of all space-related music to be released by the National Space Society later in 2001.

Christine performs 120 concerts per year, a career that continues to take her all over the US, Canada and Australia. She now performs wireless, enabling her, she says, "to turn any size concert hall into a living room." She also tells stories, twirls glowing batons on-stage, and has most recently incorporated a digital phrase sampler into her live concert, enabling her to create improvised lyrics (and intricate vocal harmonies) on the fly.

In her free time Christine writes essays and articles (The Washington Post, The St. Petersburg Times, Delta "Sky" Magazine, The Performing Songwriter Magazine) and was the host and now guest host for the popular "Sunday Breakfast" radio program on WFUV 90.7 FM, public radio, from Fordham University in New York City.

- from Christine's Website at: www.ChristineLavin.com

Comments about 'The Firehouse':

Christine Lavin describes her local firehouse on the Upper West Side of New York, and how the mood changed from hope to despair as it became obvious that there were almost no survivors.
- Suzanne Vega

'The Firehouse'

[ mp3 sound clip ]

I've lived in this neighborhood
for twenty-seven years
I know where to get good bagels
and exotic beers
the favorite sidewalk cafes
where locals like to eat
but I never paid attention to
the firehouse on this street

On one side is a parking lot
the other side a laundromat
across the street's a small boutique
where you could find an antique hat
on the corner an all-night diner
and discount drug store
where life goes on but not quite like
the way it did before

At first there was a slender thread
of optimistic hope
the digging went on round the clock
no one slept, but somehow coped
the photos of the missing men
were posted on the glass
of the red door where
we said a prayer
whenever we walked past

The wind shifted to the north
smoke filled our lungs
stung our eyes, burned our throats
left a bitter taste upon our tongues
we drank more than we should have
before we went to bed
everyone I know had nightmares
dreams all filled with dread

Day blurred into night then day
then night then day again
'missing' was the buzzword
too hard to think this was the end
for young men charging up the stairs
as hell came rolling down
though logic wasn't on our side
we thought they'd all be found

'Cause still there was this slender thread
of optimistic hope
the digging went on round the clock
no one slept, but somehow coped
the photos of the missing men
were posted on the glass
of the red door where
we said a prayer
whenever we walked past

Neighbors lit votive candles
laid flowers at that door
baked casseroles and homemade breads
but wished they could do more
the guys inside were grateful
but preferred to grieve alone
trained to save the lives of others
they could not save their own

Maybe next year the pain won't be as sharp
as it is today
though it will never completely go away
and we will talk in terms of
'before' and 'after' the attack
and wish more than anything
we could bring those brave men back

Reality sliced cleanly through
that slender thread of hope
the digging went on and on
some snapped
most of us still cope
the photos of the missing men
are missing from the glass
of the red door where
we say a prayer
whenever we walk past