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A song about how temptation can find its way into the most hallowed places.

Jane and I were waiting for Mark, Karen and Bob to come along to do some recording at the house and just before they arrived the melody and first verse popped into my head. As they came along everyone seemed to help or modify it so it became a very collaborative piece of work. Bob and I later wrote the words and I re-constructed the song to become more orthodox in terms of the structure. I love Mark’s guitar and the harmonies. Emily’s violin is brilliant and gives it an authentic touch. It’s a song that contrasts the old world with the new, romance with sex, traditional art with contemporary and virtue with modern mores.

Credits

Vocals: Tom Fairnie
Harmony: Jane Fairnie & Karen Dietz
Guitar: Tom Fairnie
2nd guitar: Mark Barnett
Double bass: Ken Kennedy
Pedal steel guitar: Alastair Taylor
Slide guitar: Bruce Hogg
Percussion: Robin Brill
Violin & Jaw’s Harp: Emily Peppers

Lyrics

Sonoma & Sistine

I got a letter from foreign parts
I broke a few Italian hearts
I recall a night in old Verona
But that’s a long way from California

She liked Madonna Del Rosario
I’d rather have Marilyn Monroe
When I saw her for the very first time
I didn’t think twice but to make her mine

And I couldn’t let her know
That I’d have to let her go
There was someone I’d left behind
I’ve been torn between
Sonoma and Sistine
Between a lover and a little peace of mind

In the Chapel of the Sacred Heart
I was walking through Renaissance art
Might have been a Caravaggio
Or something by Leonardo

Did you ever burn a lover’s notes?
For fear of lace and petticoats
I’m wise enough to know that I’ve been cruel
Read enough to know that love’s made me a fool

And I couldn’t let her know…

And I couldn’t let her know…

© Sonoma & Sistine words and music by Tom Fairnie, Mark Barnett, Bob Shields & Jane Fairnie 22nd Sept 2007


Sonoma & Sistine (poem)

It’s autumn, sure as falling leaves
And misty reasons to believe
The light that flatters and deceives
A tangled web isn’t all she weaves
There’s lace and petticoats
It’s arithmetic and honesty
And music, that was yesterday
And laughter where the children play
Among the whispers, as the poets say
I sent my love a note

13th © Bob Shields