Trouble Go Down: Alight Thou In Me (featuring Ellie Holcomb)

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One day Rebecca Reynolds sent me these poetic lyrics combining the imagery of a dead leaf falling to the ground, evensong floating out from a cathedral, and sunlight through stained glass, evoking thoughts of times of burnout, the still small voice, and the varied colors of personality which light up when God is held in trust. C. S. Lewis said, “How monotonously alike all the great conquerors and tyrants have been; how gloriously different are the saints!”

I had the chorus melody as it is, but the verse melody needed some work. Jeff Taylor came into it and gave us a beautiful, quiet verse to contrast the strength of longing in the chorus.

Ellie Holcomb was an easy choice to sing it; she does the job supremely. Never having worked with her before in the studio, I found her to be eminently professional, wonderfully personable and likeable, and of course a stellar singer. Her voice rings with truthfulness and honesty. Big thanks to her for such a quality job. I sang the lead vocal on the chorus and she pushes so well against my voice, sailing up there with ease.

Jeff and I recorded this on piano and guitar with Barry Bales on bass, Stuart Duncan on fiddle, and John Mock on bodhran. Jeff added accordion, and I added several guitars and two banjo parts. It adds a higher dynamic of longing to the record.


“Alight Thou In Me” – featuring Ellie Holcomb
Music: Jeff Taylor/Seek 1st/ASCAP and Ron Block/Moonlight Canyon Publishing/BMI
Lyrics: Rebecca Reynolds/Wynken Owl/BMI

Soft bends the morn,
Slight and grey,
Bruised by the span of the night.
Fragile and frail,
Dust to dust.
Deep calls to Deep, calls to Deep,
To Deep.

CHORUS
Alight Thou in me,
Thy spectrum a hymn,
Vision indwelling,
Burn bright, Thou, within.

VERSE TWO
Blown evensong,
Poor and dim,
Worn to a sigh in the loss.
Flutter and fall,
Hush to stone.
Death calls to life, calls to Life,
To Life.

CHORUS
Alight Thou in me,
Thy spectrum a hymn,
Vision indwelling,
Burn bright, Thou, within.

Winner of 147 Grammys (or so), Ron Block is the banjo-ninja portion of Alison Kraus and Union Station. When he’s not laying down a bluegrass-style martial-arts whoopin’ on audiences around the world, he’s taking care of his donkey named “Trash” and keeping himself busy by being one of the most well-read and thoughtful people we know.


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