Musings of a Sound Medicine Woman

Musings of a Sound Medicine Woman

Thundersnow

Silence Reigns but for the laughter we bring

Alma Drake's avatar
Alma Drake
Dec 17, 2024
∙ Paid
0:00
-4:32
Audio playback is not supported on your browser. Please upgrade.
Thundersnow, copyright Alma Drake 2015, Creative Commons (Attrib.); from The Light You Can’t See In the Day
Alma Drake: acoustic guitar, vocal
Christine Moad: bass\Byrn Paul: pedal steel
Ryan Rumery: drums and percussion
Pat Smith: electric guitar
Andrew Teutsch: keys

In honor of My Own Little Boy’s birthday …

Thundersnow was written many years after an event, but I feel like it captured it pretty well. It was mid-October in the mid '90s, and one afternoon it started thundering like crazy. The snow started coming down in giant globs. My son, Byrn D. Paul, was about four years old at the time, and of course we wanted to run out and play in it! So he and I suited up and Calvin-and-Hobbesed our way out the door into ... silence. Nothing but the thunder and and us out there. Everything had ground to a halt. It was fantastic. The part about the pears is Truth.

Byrn has slightly different memories of the event than I do; mostly it was heavy and very wet, and he was getting cold fast and his suit was getting heavier by the minute. But it was paradise while it lasted. So happy that I talked Byrn ("my own little boy") into playing some steel on this tune. He's a beautiful guitarist and composer. When everything drops out but me and him for the 3rd verse, it just gets me, uffda! Every. Time. Very clever arrangement there, may have been Rumery’s idea, may have been mine, probably just happened to fall together that way as often happens when musicians start vibing together, but it’s a quietly powerful and hair-raising moment and I’m super proud of that.

Christine's bass line is IT.

Keep reading with a 7-day free trial

Subscribe to Musings of a Sound Medicine Woman to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.

Already a paid subscriber? Sign in
© 2025 Alma Drake · Privacy ∙ Terms ∙ Collection notice
Start your SubstackGet the app
Substack is the home for great culture