"Olana," Home of Frederic Edwin Church
Marc Cohn's tribute to the artist and his final masterpiece
Olana is the name of the picturesque estate in New York's Hudson Valley owned by the landscape painter Frederic Church (1826–1900). In 1967, it was designated a historic site and opened to the public. The mansion is an architectural wonder, and in 1997 was featured in a story [click to read] that ran in Architectural Digest. Marc Cohn picked up a copy of the magazine when he was staying at an inn in Connecticut.
Cohn learned that Church was a very popular artist whose career was curtailed by crippling arthritis. He turned his passions toward his estate at Olana, filling it with art and other treasures. And while he loved Olana, he was devoted to his family.
Cohn explained: “His story about his family life and his creative life and his deep love for both resonated with me. Immediately after reading the article I started writing the lyric. As soon as I hit upon the idea of writing it in the first person - as Frederick Church - I was off and running.” The word “Olana” (like :“Ophelia”) is a great one to sing, as it's bookended by soothing vowels. “I loved the WORD,” Cohn wrote. “It drew me in. It sounded pastoral and mythic and it rolled off the tongue. I even remember thinking it sounded like the name of a song Don Henley might write. Glad I saw the article before Don did!” After Cohn got the idea for the song, he retreated to his room at the inn and started working on it, using a cheap keyboard he had with him to compose the music. Using a preset drum pattern and a "Springsteen-esque synth sound," he put the track together. - Songfacts
More About Frederic Edwin Church [click to read]
"Olana"
They say my final masterpiece
Was this house upon the hill
High above the great and mighty river
My hand could not hold the brushes
Yes I guess I lost my will
And you can't keep painting paradise forever
Oh forever
From the Andes to Niagara
To where we stand today
I drew the great creations of my Master
'Til the oil and the canvas
Lord I threw them all away
And traded them for stone and brick and plaster
I traded them all for you
(Winter wind blows and the river lies frozen at my feet)
I traded them all for you
(Springtime come and the river wanna run above the street)
She came to me one night
While I was tossing in my dreams
She said she'd give my family protection
I recall the night I died
Beneath her arches and her beams
I thanked her for the shelter and direction
I was lost until Olana
(Sun beat down on a summertime town -- he left me there)
I was lost until Olana
(Watching these hills turning gold for one more year)
Oh I've been from Jerusalem to Rome
Now I'm floating through these rooms tonight alone
And looking back on everything
All I ever wanted was a home
I was lost until Olana
How sweet the sound
How sweet the sound
They say my final masterpiece
Was this house upon the hill
I was lost until Olana
How sweet the sound
How sweet the sound