HAPPY HOLIDAYS: Bing Crosby Works Here?

Well, its 2 days till Christmas and the taste of Bing Crosby and pumpkin pie is nearly palatable. Sitting in a white-washed office building the air conditioning unit whirls resonate like the reverb off a cheap sound machine.

Am I at work? Why is no one else here?
Is the building even open today, or am I in trouble for being here? Perhaps the lights will go off and I’ll slip out to the recesses of the parking garage. But damn, the parking garage is cold, and if I forget my car keys I’ll be stuck on the 2nd Floor until after New Year’s Eve.

Did I buy enough presents? I must have forgotten someone.
Will anyone give me a gift? Wait, it’s not about the giver; it’s the whole receiver thing.

Wait, there’s someone else here! I hear them.
They’re talking about their grandparents and their travel plans. How is this possible? Are they speaking to me? There must be more people in the building, hidden from my cube. I can never see over this wall.
A low voice wafts through the air duct, "That is quite enough for the day."  I wrestle on a jacket, pick up my bag and head to the 2nd Floor.

As I round the parking garage stairwell the voice hits once more, "Happy Holidays" it says.  I agree.

Oklahoma Gazette's Review: "Poisoning the Medicine Tree"

Neither here nor there

Oklahoma Gazette Article - June 13, 2011

By Stephen Carradini

W.A. Fite lives in Dallas, but he’s signed to the Dallas/OKC record label Hand Drawn Records. His “Poisoning the Medicine Tree” is an album of gritty electronic pop with a modern-rock singer over it. He follows a less-traveled path through electronic music: This is not the subtle indie pop of The Postal Service, the sunshiny pop of Owl City, or dance-oriented electro. This is forceful, rock-oriented, electronic music that sort of sounds like the pseudo-electronic experiments of Bush (“Glycerine”), thanks to both the vocals and the song structures. “Beating Thomas Best” and “Jack” are immediate standouts, while the mellower “Carney’s Lake” kicks off the quieter, more experimental back half. “That Ain’t the Way” is a piano rumination, showing his diversity.

Production Stills III: Video "Western In A"

Last set of stills....maybe...

Courtesy James Villa Photography © 2011

Video: Western In A

Dallas-Fort Worth provides the eclectic backdrop of art, architecture and culture for the first video installation for W.A. Fite; featuring the track "Western In A". The song is a trek into the composer's past, recalling the loss of an early love for an equally beleaguered run at making music for a living.



W.A. Fite
"Western In A"
Poisoning the Medicine Tree

Hand Drawn Records / El Villa Films
Copyright Fite Lite Productions 2011
http://www.youtube.com/wfite

Lyrics: Sergeant F. Head

Sergeant Head walks his line to view his prisoners; smell their crimes. His stick goes click from side-to-side, his lips smacked hard, his teeth clenched wide.

He picks the ones who live or die. He picks the ones who make him smile. The whince and beg is what he'll claim, the pride in which keep him sustained. He's riding high up on the wind. That Sergeant Head's old dirty grin.

Sergeant Head walks his line to view the women in their prime. His stick goes click from side-to-side, his tongue wagged hard, his teeth sneered wide.

He picks the girls to be his bride. He picks the ones who like to cry. The whince and beg is what he'll claim, the pride in which keep him sustained. He's riding high up on the wind. That Sergeant Head's old dirty grin.

One day he woke up from his sleep to see a new line forming deep. He combed his mane and wiped his eyes and stepped outside to greet the line...

"Move aside and take him from my line. Move aside and take her from my line."
That's the sign, to take a wife.

"Move along and take him from my line. Move along and take her from my line."
That's the sign, to take a life.

"What's her name? Please take her from my line. What's her name? I'll put her by my side."
Now's the time to beg with tears.
I'd say, "Pause. Take a breath try again from here."

"Oh, just take him from my line. What a wreck. I'll put him on this line."
Now's the time to say a prayer.
I'd say, "Stop. Hold your breath try again from here."

"Oh, where's that pretty little one? Such a tease...always crying on my feet."
I'd say, "Stop. Hold your breath, count it back from ten."
She'd say, "Please...OH NO, no no no no no!!!"

That's the sign, to take a life.