#37: "The Rolling Clouds" - Paul Baribeau

We are blessed to have the music of Paul Baribeau out there on Bandcamp. Buy them all immediately. Just do it. One of the reviews for his third record Unbearable by Lunamyth states, “Makes me feel emotions I didn't know existed.” That’s a succinct and poignant way of putting my own experiences seeing Paul live over two decades ago or listening to the song of choice for this write-up. When I first saw him live, he played in a friend’s garage and I went up to the host and said, “who is this and where has he been all my life?!” In a way, much like with the host, I felt like I had met the brother I always wished I had.

The abovementioned host of this particular show was a musician named Patrick (performing under the name Redbear). Little did I know that venturing out to the Chicago suburbs to see a house show would change my life for the course of about five years. Patrick turned out to be not only one of the most talented and gifted musicians I’ve ever met, but we became friends, bonding over horror films and avant-garde guitar-driven oddities. Not to mention the fact that I met another Patrick, last name Ripoll, who has become one of my very best friends (and a podcast buddy to boot). Friendships I value even if some of us currently live different lives far away now. A particular New Year’s Eve couldn’t get much better than spending time with Redbear and other talented DIY songwriters watching a horror movie like Intruder in my apartment in Irving Park. I’m not sure if it hit me that night, but I was hanging out with musicians that wrote songs I wish I could write.

A lot of my time writing songs and playing shows (and even going on a tour) came to be because of seeing Redbear and Paul Baribeau on the same bill one night. I still felt a little out of place because the majority of the people attending were about ten years older than me, just out of high school. I was in mid-late 20s still deciding if I even wanted to continue playing music after my dad’s passing and not being sure of what career to pursue. I mostly worked freelance after quitting a boring corporate job in downtown Chicago. So when I ventured out to Western Springs, Illinois, I didn’t know I would be entering a whole new alternate world of live performance. I’ve mainly been used to coffee shops, bars and clubs. Not someone’s home or basement.

A good friend and writer out of Austin, Dan Solomon was friends with another talented musician named Tony Presley. They managed to book tours playing just about anywhere in any type of venue. The idea of booking your own tour without a manager seemed unorthodox at the time. But musicians like Paul Baribeau were doing that on a regular basis. He had quite the following since he was able to headline a lot of different types of venues. There was The Church of Rock and The Foster Home, in and around the same area, for example, which went on to host the Southwest Folk Fest (an event I’ll eventually get around to later when I cover other musicians that I adored). Passionate artists of all kinds would congregate to support their friends’ music and sing along. I was in awe of everyone’s dedication and talent to where I began documenting shows using my camera. This video below has poor lighting and is far from high quality but it still captures a time and place that I’ll never forget. There are plenty more examples of this too since I brought my camcorder everywhere.

It’s wild to think that shows like these are possibly still happening in and around Chicago, but I’m not aware of the venues at all. A lot of them did get loud and wild since it was built on a punk rock aesthetic. But someone like Paul was influenced and inspired by a wide variety of musicians and pop songwriters (like Springsteen, undoubtedly). It’s clear that he was meant to play guitar since he does it so well and with ease. An acoustic guitar is the only instrument he needed when he played shows or recorded songs. We were always transfixed by the words, his rhythms, the contrast between major chords and confessional lyrics. Music was truly his therapy and his catharsis became our own in the process. As much as I’ve always said that live shows or going to the movies felt like my version of “going to church,” you truly felt that going to a DIY house show. Songs were our sermons. Paul made us feel less alone and between his gorgeous artistic expression, he had a great stage presence - very funny, sardonic, charming and offbeat. His confidence was apparent. To me, Unbearable remains his masterpiece. There isn’t a wasted moment particularly the song I’m writing about as well as the closing number.

Going to shows around this time felt like a spiritual connection to a higher plane. Not only did we go there to listen to music, but we had great conversations with like-minded folks who were often struggling to fit in. Once again, I couldn’t help but think of Pump Up The Volume, only instead of a pirate radio DJ, we had a singer to bring us all together in a way that felt beautifully communal and therapeutic. The ultimate escape from authority, societal expectation and isolation. So many were singing along to Paul’s music because we felt it, deep within our core. He became a favorite quickly based on the song, “Never Get To Know.” In my opinion, he didn’t write any songs that I didn’t appreciate or respond to. “The Rolling Clouds” still feels like the pinnacle for me. How rare is it to actually pull over to the side of the road and cry thinking about being in the same situation as the songwriter. It still conjures up so much listening to it now. That’s the power of rock and roll (or folk punk or any genre you can think of).

I realized a while back that a lot of my favorite songs are in the key of Amajor. Not sure why that is. Maybe back when my brain was still developing, the song “Fake Plastic Trees” by Radiohead implanted itself in the same way that “Smells Like Teen Spirit” did for others. This was the music I wanted to make back in high school - Radiohead, Matthew Sweet, The Cure, Smashing Pumpkins. We certainly did try and I’ll even be writing about a song I co-wrote (hey songs I have been a part of can be favorites too). “Fake Plastic Trees” was also the first time I heard the opening chord upon the first listen and said, “oh I know that chord - it’s an Amajor.” I say this because I recognized “The Rolling Clouds” as starting in my favorite key and you could feel the dopamine rushing into my vulnerable brain when I first picked up Unbearable on CD.

Though I’m guessing Paul played the song live many times before the record came out so it’s likely I heard it live at a show first. Either way, I felt all the emotions humanly possible with this song in ways I hadn’t before. A lot of DIY musicians were openly honest, intense, emotional. Paul is all of these things as a songwriter without question. But he was able to keep time - stay in sync with the words, find the perfect rhyme, the attention to little details and capture a specific place and time in a way that paints the canvas without color, depth, scope. Every brushstruck feels harmonious with what appears in the final picture. The choices to include places like the ‘library’ or the ‘bathroom door.’ It also doesn’t hurt to elaborate on things I knew about too like ‘Mountain Dew’ and ‘horror movies.’ All while strumming the guitar to where you could say the song sounds upbeat and even danceable (!). The content of the story though does indicate a push and pull that we can all relate to. “Maybe I should have stayed,” still sends familiar shivers all over. Why didn’t I do the thing I wanted to do?!

Maybe I did the wrong thingMaybe I should have stayedMaybe you were gonna feel better, maybeMaybe nothing would have changedMost nights now I just throw a movie in the vcrFall asleep on the couch and wake up tiredI try my best not to miss youBut I don't try very hard

Of course the song starts out pleasant with a friendly bike ride into town but by this point in the story, presumably Paul in this situation feels helpless and full of regret. A friend, a companion perhaps is experiencing a panic attack to where he/she locked themselves in the bathroom door. There have been times in my life where I can think of friends or partners shutting down, crying, needing to be alone or needing to be consoled. It’s hard to know what the right response will be and that’s what is happening in this song. When we feel helpless maybe it’s best to focus on something beautiful, like the clouds in the sky or the fields that surround the tiny town.

Part of me wanted to analyze every line and why it resonates strongly. You should hear it for yourself with fresh ears. But sitting down to write, my mind jumped to the moment in the song where things get dark and heavy. That’s likely because I know what’s it like to go through this and the feeling still hits hard. How many people from the past that I’ve known have gone through a rough patch and the sense of futility cannot be lifted. I’ve often been told, all you can do is listen. It’s maybe the mantra of what I experience currently in therapy since I often focus on the fact that I want to help and save others but there’s never enough time for everyone. The truth is, I have to focus on my own self-care now more than ever. Winter is coming, the clocks just fell back. Summer rarely purrs like a kitten for me but I love the idea of Paul presenting it here that way right at the start. There is a sense of looking forward and then as we conclude this song, we can’t help but look back.

In a way this song does feel like a shift, a changing of the seasons. We start off with sunshine and then the clouds take over. Perhaps happiness is shiny and bright but then depression creates a sense of an overcast sky that encompasses everything. The anticipatory anxiety of the storm and what it may bring. I’ve felt that within myself and I’ve witnessed it causing damage in others. One can point to addiction as a culprit or perhaps it’s just unfortunate brain chemistry. In my experience, a panic attack doesn’t often have a trigger - it happens unexpectedly. It’s happened at the movies, on the train, at a play. Most places I consider to be comfortable and soothing. The panic would turn into anger - why does this have to happen here and now at the worst possible time. I think the same happened for the person in this song that has locked themselves away, in hopes of hiding and not opening themselves up for help. In this case, Paul (or the narrator) couldn’t even just listen. He left. He may have even thought that’s what best in that moment. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t.

“The Rolling Clouds” still makes me cry. The tiny town turns into a stupid town. There are no more sour patch kids. There’s just a sense of a loss of friendship or a really strong connection that has been severed. And all that’s left is the lingering thought of, “I wish I had done things differently.” To reframe it though, maybe he left out of self-care for himself. It may have felt selfish, but perhaps it actually wasn’t. The song ends with a sense of, “now what?” He still misses her, they may never interact again. All he can do is just hope she’s okay and maybe there will be other connections down the road. I have a feeling that if this narrator is Paul himself, recounting a real experience, things turned out okay for him in the end. He doesn’t put out records anymore. Maybe he’s in a good place. I’d like to think so because he deserves it. The reason I gravitated so strongly to Redbear and Paul Baribeau is that I sensed they had open hearts and a lot of kindness to accompany their astonishing talent. I wish we were all hanging out for coffee and talking about the old times. This song is one of a few that brings me back to a time and a place that I have nostalgia for. 20 years ago, feels like a whole other world now. Sometimes I miss it, sometimes I don’t.

A lot of good things come in threes/trilogies. Paul has three wonderful records out in the world and maybe that’s all we need. He put so much of himself into these songs and there’s a reason why so many fans exist to this day. I remain one of them. “The Rolling Clouds” still encapsulates everything I love about his music but it’s also the one I relate to the strongest. Even after the record came out, I dealt with a number of folks who suffer and struggle. Sometimes we’d drink Mountain Dew or something a little stronger (thankfully not as much anymore). Most of all, I just tried to practice the art of active listening in these situations. There is always that instinct to leave. Sometimes the person struggling will even say, “I just need to be alone,” and that’s what you do to respect their wishes. In that case, I would go for a walk. I usually try to look up and see if there are rolling clouds. There is comfort in a rainy night just as there can be with the sunshine of a purring summer day. I’m grateful that I could be there at times of crisis for those in need. What I’m even more grateful for is that a song like “The Rolling Clouds” exist and that Paul Baribeau wrote it and I was blessed to see him play it live in tiny towns outside of Chicago.