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Studio Musician Lyrics

We've never met
But you know me well
I am the English horn
Who plays the poignant counter-nine
Upon the song you heard
While making love in some hotel
I am a part of you
I've never tried for fame
You'll never know my name

I am the strings that enter softly
Or three guitars that glitter gold
I am the thousand trumpet lines
That were an afterthought
Intended eyes,
The way to get a dying record sold
I never ride the road
I never play around
I played what they set down

I'm a working musician
Living from week to week
I'm the voice through each empty men
Tried to speak
A studio musician
Blowin' the chance I see

And when the woodwind coushing rises
I start to dream
With the low brass bed
But I awake the horns
The drummer calls to me
We're up the letter D

I'm a man of the moment
Pop is my stock n' trade
Singles, jingles and demos
Conveniently made
A studio musician
Whose music will die unplayed
A studio musician
Whose music could have died unplayed
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Cover art for Studio Musician lyrics by Barry Manilow

Song is filled with musician jargon. The basic message is that the protagonist is not a flashy star but a run-of-the-mill ordinary part of a greater whole. I see it as a song to a lover, telling how she finally gives him the audience he deserves, not musically but personally. Maybe he cannot be a celebrity music star but he is in her eyes and that's enough.

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