Amy Rachman

Amy Rachman

BandPopSinger/Songwriter

I address universal, relatable matters, through a unique lyrical angle. On the surface I am direct, while I infiltrate my content with exclusive twists and nuances. Each story is enveloped in unpredictable verse, and the listener can't help but wonder how my message will unravel...

Biography

Amy Rachman was born in 1974 and raised in New Jersey. A piano-, guitar-, and flute-player, she has been a musician since the age of 4. With an innate zeal for the written word, she taught herself to read before she began school and at age 6 she began to involve herself in creative writing projects. During her youth she won several national writing contests.

Amy began formal voice training at a very young age. Before barely reaching teen-age, she wrote her first song, Look Up At Me, which she ultimately recorded at the age of 15. The song was aired on 97.5 WPST's Unsigned Heroes at age 16. Amy's second original song, Where I'm Bound, was recorded at age 16 as well.

Throughout high school Amy continued to write songs, many of which she performed in various coffee house showcases. When not on stage she was intently writing, creating, arranging, and producing her own instrumental, background vocal, and lead vocal tracks. During her senior year she won an award for having written and performed a song in Spanish, which earned her statewide recognition.

After high school Amy attended Indiana University, home of one of the world's most renowned music schools. During her freshman year she performed in the musical Hair. That same year she was appointed as cantor for the university's High Holiday services, a position she served throughout the rest of her undergraduate schooling. From time to time she made guest appearances at local parties as a cover band vocalist. Meanwhile, she continued to tend to her original material and to perform at various venues, including coffee houses, as well as annual karaoke contests, which she won several years in a row.

Amy's performance venues range from Indy to the Indies: While on vacation in St. Lucia, she won numerous vocalist contests, which prompted the island natives to honor Amy with the unprecedented title of "Resident Artist." Amy has also performed at her more local venues, such as Brooklyn's Grand Central Bar, Bliss Café of Kew Gardens, the Theater Café of Forest Hills, Waltz Café of Astoria, Mood Restaurant of Kew Gardens, and Makor, located in New York's Upper West Side.

Amy has recently completed an album, which features ten of the hundreds of songs she has written throughout almost two decades. The album was produced by Art Hays, a former instrumentalist of Matchbox Twenty, and is expected to be released by the fall. Amy has also completed writing her first fiction novel, which corresponds with a supplementary sound track, written and performed by her.

In addition, Amy has just signed on to write for Songs of Love. Founded by friend and fellow neighborhood songwriter, John Beltzer, the organization was created to custom-write songs for children who are chronically ill. Amy further combines her sense of creativity and empathy with her recently earned master of arts degree in speech-language pathology, helping advance those who are communicatively challenged.

Amy maintains the ability to relate to a wide demographic, although her genre is anything but typical. Influenced by adult contemporary, classic rock, new age, folk, and pop, Amy's music satisfies all of the senses.

Amy resides in Queens, New York. She continues to write, record, and sustain a remarkable level of intimacy with her steadily growing fan base.

Lyrics

Movie Kind of Love

Written By: Amy Rachman

We've got that movie kind of love,
And every reel plays in my mind.
And all the memories above
Aren't really left behind.
And I can't stop thinking about you,
And how I live my life without you.
We've got that movie kind of love;
And you're the one that I dream of.

I was a damsel in distress,
But I would see you every day.
And we almost did confess,
But then I was swept away.
And I can't stop thinking about how we may not end up together
In this cold reality.
We've got that movie kind of love, but you know that that is just
An old formality.

Every day it's such a crime,
'Cause I think of you at least one time
And I wish that I would
See you incidentally.
'Cause when I did run into you,
You know, we never had that rendezvous,
But the scenes play in my mind
So sentimentally... sentimentally...
Ha-ah -- ha-ah -- ha-ah -- ha-ah.

We've got that movie kind of love--
The kind adrenaline is made of.
And the way you made me feel back then,
Oh, how I wish to feel again.

And I can't stop thinking about this whole production,
And the scandalous seduction.
Every heartbeat is emphatic,
'Cause you've made me feel ecstatic
In this movie kind of love.
Some may think it's so dramatic,
But our lives are cinematic;
In this Movie Kind Of Love...

I Thought I Had A Crush On You

Written By: Amy Rachman

I thought I had a crush on you,
And I thought you felt the attraction, too,
But I soon discovered
That I didn’t impress you;
You will never be my lover
And I’ll never undress you.
Maybe you feel;
Maybe you deny.
Maybe it’s real,
And maybe you’re shy.
Or maybe I’m self-conscious,
And I’m just assumin’
That I mess up, ‘cause I forget
I’m just talking to a human.

I thought I had a crush on you,
Though I didn’t want to,
‘Cause it makes no sense
If it will never come true,
And I can’t explain
Why I feel so elated,
But if you don’t feel the same,
It makes me so frustrated.

Tell me how I can feel so much heat,
And none of it comes from you when we meet.
You’ll soon discover
That there must be a reason;
Come on – blow your cover,
‘Cause I can’t take this teasin’.

I thought I had a crush on you,
Though I didn’t want to,
‘Cause it makes no sense
If it will never come true,
And I can’t explain
Why I feel so elated,
But if you don’t feel the same,
It makes me so frustrated.

When it comes to conversation,
Do you not invest
‘Cause you’re so afraid
Of what it might suggest?
Or maybe it’s you
Who won’t think of the words,
‘Cause you’re too afraid
Of what might be inferred.
Do you consciously not give me credit,
‘Cause you’re so damned repressed by the feelings you edit?

I thought I had a crush on you,
Though I didn’t want to,
‘Cause it makes no sense
If it will never come true,
And I can’t explain
Why I feel so elated,
But if you don’t feel the same,
It makes me so frustrated.

I thought there was something I adore,
But I don’t anymore;
What am I trying to impress you for?
It’s all too exhausting,
Though it isn’t untrue
That I thought I had
A crush on you.

The Morning Would

Written By: Amy Rachman

The morning would
Give us a taste of reality.
The morning would
Strip us both of the mystery and all the formality.
The morning would not
Be that simple.
In fact, it would be awfully complicated
And quite sinful.
Reality would magnify,
And I would not achieve the high
That’s only in my fantasies,
And it wouldn’t be what I plan to see.

The night before
Would have to begin
With a glass or two or three or more of wine the shade of pink.
You’d take me to my door,
In hopes that without overdoing it,
We will have had too much to drink. Whoa-oa.
And after all the wine we sipped,
How far would we take on this script?
Would we give up all our power?
Would I run to take a shower?
Do you think we would be self-conscious?
Would you contemplate that goodnight kiss?
I guarantee we’d waver
Before any risqué behavior.

The morning might make you regret,
And start to think you’ve gotten in too deep.
Well, that might not be so bad,
But when the morning came, would I pretend to sleep? Whoa-oa.
Would it be too strange to wake up,
If you saw me without make-up?
Would I sneak another shower in,
So we can reenact our sins?

Maybe for the moment, our impulses would be gratified,
But would the sights that you hold when you think of me be rectified?
Tell me about the consequences that might follow,
For the morning would be hard
For me to swallow.

And if I did pretend to sleep,
I hope that that would be the only thing I had to fake.
For all I know,
You might not be there when I do decide to wake. Whoa-oa
Well, if you did decide to leave,
Just maybe I would feel relieved.
Tell me, do you think we'd still feel good
When we saw just what the morning would--
Do to us?

The morning would
Give me a taste
Of you.

Tropic of Cancer

Written By: Amy Rachman

Do you think about me?
Did you ever want to hold me in the rain?
Well, baby, I was drenched already,
Drowning in your seas.

Well, don't sail without me
Into your next lifetime,
'Cause in this one there must be a reason
My thoughts of you never cease -
To amaze me.

Trying to burrow my confessions in the sand--
These flustered feelings, only masked by my demands.
And if I'm burning up, the sun is not the cause;
I want to be captured in the palm of your claws.

Do you imagine crawling clear across my land?
Well, you don't have to give me an answer,
'Cause I do imagine you with me
In the Tropic of Cancer.

Your eyes are oceans;
I wanna tell you that they're beautiful,
But it makes no sense if I'm the one who's taken,
Just like the hourglass that seeps the grains of sand,
No matter how it's shaken.

How can we ever break this hourglass?
How much time in this one will surpass?
'Cause I am restless, like a lion:
I'm a fire on the ground.
If you quench me,
Don't unclench me,
'Cause I can't wait,
'Till our souls go one more time around.

Do you imagine crawling clear across my sand?
Well, you don't have to give me an answer,
'Cause I do imagine you with me
In the Tropic of Cancer.

Is She

Written By: Amy Rachman

I wanna hand you
Something you say that you lack.
I understand you
Feel as if you've fallen back.
And you wanna feel like a man.
Well, instead of doing things solo,
You know that I would go so low
To give you a high
So that you don't run dry
From things that she'll never try.

Well, we all make choices,
So if you're not satisfied,
They're your inner voices,
Telling you not to let go,
Well is she so gung-ho
When you're deep inside--
Her mind?
You know, in a crowd you're the one I would find--
Which is more than she would;
Are you misunderstood,
Or is she really that good?

Is she everything you dream of?
Is she someone who's your true love?
Tell me: just how far does she go?
Does she stroke more than your ego?
Is she clever? Is she cute or
Is she dry and so much duller?
Is she someone you can shoot for
When you want to be off-color?
Can she be naughty,
Or is she too haughty?
Tell me, is she a hottie?
Comfortable with her body?
Please tell me...
Is she? Is she?

I wanna blow you
Kisses from across the room, and do more than that.
I wanna show you
How it is when it's tit-for-tat.
And I'll make you feel like a man;
I know--
You're tired of playing that solo
You wanna speed up your tempo.
She keeps you so far behind,
And well, I hope you don't mind,
But don't you think that's unkind?

Is she everything you dream of?
Is she someone who's your true love?
Tell me: just how far does she go?
Does she stroke more than your ego?
Is she kind and sympathetic?
Well, she must be one-in-a-million,
So go on and wax poetic,
But would she dare go Brazilian?
Can she be naughty,
Or is she too haughty?
Tell me, is she a hottie?
Comfortable with her body?
No, she's not like me...
Is she? Is she?

And if she doesn't have nerve,
Like I do,
Then what does she deserve?
From you?
Did you think that her kind would serve?
So prim and proper and sweet,
And maybe she's so petite,
But I keep throwing these curves.
She doesn't hold a candle;
Maybe you can't handle--
Me...

'Cause I'm everything you dream of.
I am someone you're afraid to love.
I will tell you how far I'd go
To stroke more than just your ego...

Now, is she everything?
Is she everything?
Is she? Is she? Is she?....

The Last Song

Written By: Amy Rachman

This will have to be
The last song,
Although I know you’re wrapped around my finger--
I’m afraid the platinum’s an obvious replacement.
And what is meant to be
Is that you’ll always stay
In the attic of my mind,
With images — that never entered my basement.

Tell me, did you think that I would get away
From this place without kissing you?
Are you mad your hopes did not come true?

Well, all that I can say
Is “thank you,”
‘Cause I won’t say “I’m sorry for moving on
And doing what is sensible.”
And I’m sincere when I say
“Thank you
For the attention that you gave me,” but I must move on:
Is it so incomprehensible?

Tell me, did you think that I would stay in this
Emotional arrangement,
And that I would ignore other engagements?

This will have to be the last song that I write
About the times you touched me, or lack thereof.
This will have to be the last dream that I fight:
How can we continue when it never turned to love?

If it’s any consolation,
You know that I felt something for you,
And I think I always will.
How we avoided complication,
And it relieves me just to know that when I leave
We’ll keep our distance further, still.

Tell me did you think that I would stay
Within these boundaries forever,
And that I would ignore all my endeavors?

This will have to be the last song that I write
About the times you touched me, or lack thereof.
This will have to be the last dream that I fight:
How can we continue when it never turned to love?

This will have to be
The last time,
That I don’t let you walk along my valleys:
I’m afraid this renders an obvious finale.
And what is meant to be
Is that you’ll always stay
In the attic of my mind,
Though making you climb, I was unkind.

Tell me, did you think that I just
Wouldn’t have the strength to end this cycle?
And that the days would always be recycled?

This will have to be the last song that I write
About the times you touched me, or lack thereof.
This will have to be the last dream that I fight:
How can we continue
when it never turned to love?

Knowing I’m within you,
Though it never turned to love.
And this’ll be The Last Song.

Discography

Amy Rachman (self-titled album)
Amy Rachman (3-song promo from album)
3-song promo available via .mp3 on my website, http://amyrachman.com/Sneak_Preview.htm

Set List

10 songs on my album and 100+ written.
Album features the following tracks:
Movie Kind of Love
I Thought I Had A Crush On You
Is She
The Morning Would
One-Way Mirror
Waiting For My Love
Tropic of Cancer
Your Own Tempo
The Last Song
Us