is a loose affiliation of swingabilly musicians, headed up by songwriter Joel D 'spinhead' Canfield. Okay, really, it's just me. But I have lots of friends who play music, and lots of 'em play on the album you'll read about just below.
Watch for the new ShellShock Rome swingabilly album
Coming out spring of 2008
We'll be posting lyrics, personnel, and other bits and pieces as we figger 'em out ourselves.
At some further point I'll drag over some information from Know Your Music about my various influences; Roger Miller, Bob Dylan, Mike Nesmith, Van Morrison . . .
Best Beloved and I love road trips. These moments during our first day together stuck in my head permanently.
Flyin' down the highway with the radio on Singin' just as loud as I can to my favorite song Well it might be Nez or Bob or Van But I always try to sing just as loud as I can Flyin' down the highway with the radio on You pull out the map every once in a while And I glance at you and you glance and we share a smile And the sun glints through your golden hair And I can't believe my luck that we're there Flyin' down the highway with the radio on You feed me a fast-food fish sandwich; it drips on my shirt I slurp green-circle-logo iced mocha and try to stay alert Like Newtonian bodies in motion we stay 'Cause we hate to slow down unless there's no other way Flyin' down the highway with the radio on Big fast car and a snappy tune And you right by my side Cup o' joe and a bite to eat Man, what a ride Big fast car and a snappy tune And you right by my side Bite to eat and a cup o' joe Man, what a ride Finally stop for some greasy home cooking in a roadside café Settle up and head for the door, glad to be on our way Drive into a sunset we wish we could frame Settle in for a night that's just more of the same Flyin' down the highway with the radio on
Recently discovered the Nero Wolfe novels, and Best Beloved and I are hopelessly addicted.
She says I'm a perfect blend of Nero Wolfe's genius and Archie Goodwin's good looks and determination.
She also says I'm an imperfect blend of Wolfe's agoraphobia and Archie's intolerance of people who disagree with him. Ah well.
Seven steps up from West Thirty-Fifth
To an old brownstone
Whose bulky genius wouldn't work at all
If I left him on his own
Hoisting himself out of that custom chair
Only exercise he'll get
Elevator to his orchids fair
So he doesn't break a sweat
If it wasn't for my needling
He'd have nothing much to do
If there was no Archie Goodwin
There'd be no you-know-who
Inspector Cramer in the big red chair
Chews on his unlit cigar
He swears someday he's gonna get us both
But we all know he won't get far
Theodore up in the orchid room
Saul and Fred and Fritz and me
Jump through hoops to suit his every whim
Best you'll hear is 'satisfactory'
If it wasn't for my needling
He'd have nothing much to do
If there was no Archie Goodwin
There'd be no you-know-who
Never leaves the house on business
Unless some flummery's afoot
Maybe a meal upstairs at Rustermann's
But he'd prefer to just stay put
So I go out with Lily Rowan
Flamingo lays out quite a spread
Back home a snack is always waiting
Big glass of milk and off to bed
If it wasn't for my needling
He'd have nothing much to do
If there was no Archie Goodwin
There'd be no you-know-who
They come in droves to hire the genius
But disappointed out they go
He seems impervious to needling
Unless the bank account is low
But when he finally takes an interest
He sits and thinks and thinks and sits
Lips pushing in and out with eyes closed
About as active as he gets
If it wasn't for my needling
He'd have nothing much to do
If there was no Archie Goodwin
There'd be no you-know-who
"Please sit down; eyes at a level"
"Will you have a beer with me?"
He doesn't stand, he won't shake hands
The author's name his phsiognomy
I've put up with this enfant terrible
Forty years and maybe more
And through 'em all I've quit so many times
I'd love to even up the score
If it wasn't for my needling
He'd have nothing much to do
If there was no Archie Goodwin
There'd be no you-know-who
If there was no Archie Goodwin
There'd be no you-know-who
I'm growing more confident in my vocal abilities and bass playing, and wanted to fool around with something using only my voice and bass. Also still working on it being okay if things don't rhyme ;) I'm also trying anything to write something that doesn't sound like country music.
Best Beloved sleeps later than I, and the quiet time before the household wakes up is a period of anticipation for the day. I enjoy the quiet, but I don't resent the company when it arrives.
these early hours before you wake peaceful, quiet anticipation knowing you're sleeping and dreaming of me waiting until you come kiss me good morning and we drink our tea and plan our day and dream about our lives together but in these early hours before you wake I wait and think of you
I've always been a morning person, and always been amazed at the emotional transformation in myself as the sun rises.
This turns out to be the centerpiece of a triad, between 'These Early Hours' and my next song, 'My Morning Sun'
Singer/songwriter Bruce McCosar pointed me toward some Joni Mitchell open tunings, and, lo and behold, guitar playing went from impossible to, well, possible. This is the tuning Joni used for 'Free Man in Paris', moved up one full tone to EBEAC#E. I used the same tuning on 'My Morning Sun'
[instrumental]
Children are guileless; if they don't like you, there's no hiding it.
I've always loved it when one of the kids is up with me before the rest of the house is awake.
Third part of my sunrise triad (Part one is 'These Early Hours', part two is 'Pax Aurora')
can I sit on your lap
while you're having your tea?
up there on your lap
with your arms around me
we both wake up early
before mommy's up
and you share your tea
from the big yellow cup
they say the sun rises
to make the day start
but my morning sun
shines from a little girl's heart
I like when it's quiet
and we're here all alone
you're reading your book
and I'm reading my own
when mommy gets up
we have jelly and toast
she eats a little
and I eat the most
they say the sun rises
to make the day start
but my morning sun
shines from a little girl's heart
wrong turns aplenty
on the road so far
but the love of a child
shows who you really are
sometimes you kiss mommy
when you give her her tea
and she kisses you
and then kisses me
you love my mommy
and mommy loves you
you take good care of us
'cause that's what daddies do
they say the sun rises
to make the day start
but my morning sun
shines from a little girl's heart
I love you
Four years ago I walked out of my old life to start a new one with my Best Beloved.
One year ago, I nearly lost her to a rare, and usually fatal, physical ailment.
I thought I loved her before, but the terror of thinking I was losing the one I'd turned my life upside down to be with made me realize that 'love' just wasn't a big enough word for what she does to me.
She often says that the best thing I've ever said to her is that I love her more than music . . .
I learned all about words when I was just a lad Reading piles of books like my mom and my dad Merriam Webster was a good friend to me Shakespeare and Suess suited me to a T There must be a word I'll find so apropos I don't know it yet but here's one thing I know It's more than love, there must be a name It's more than love that fires the flame I look into your eyes and I find myself there I look into your heart and I'm walking on air I don't know what it is, but it's more than love I know so many words about living and life So many words about husband and wife Words like 'forever' and words like 'forgive' Words like 'together as long as we live' But I can't seem to find the right word for the way I keep feeling inside, so here's all I can say It's more than love, there must be a name It's more than love that fires the flame I look into your eyes and I find myself there I look into your heart and I'm walking on air I don't know what it is, but it's more than love Words might never say the way you make me feel But I'll keep trying until I find the one word that's ideal I've read millions of words in those books on the shelf And there's ten thousand more that I've written myself You'd think one of those would say just what I mean But they all seem to fall just below or between I know so many words that say just what it's not So I'll try to describe it with words that I've got It's more than love, there must be a name It's more than love that fires the flame I look into your eyes and I find myself there I look into your heart and I'm walking on air I don't know what it is, but it's more than love I don't know what it is, but it's more than love
The colors in Ireland are so intense it's hard to describe to folks living in a big American city.
I'm still homesick for a place I only visited briefly more than a year ago.
Though I'm standing here today My heart is far away Held captive in the fairest land I've seen Past the ocean's foaming shore Near a little cottage door Nestled in a rolling meadow green In a cozy little pub We'll stuff ourselves with grub Safe and snug beside a roaring fire As the beer and whiskey flow We'll sing every song we know With each glass our voices raised a little higher Come and hoist a pint with me In our home across the sea Where the sunlight on the rolling river gleams Blue the sky and green the land Colors bright from God's own hand Walk a mile with me in emerald dreams Now my heart keeps calling me To my home across the sea But I have to stay here just a little while Still I'm going home some day And I'm going home to stay To a cottage white there on the emerald isle. Come and hoist a pint with me In our home across the sea Where the sunlight on the rolling river gleams Blue the sky and green the land Colors bright from God's own hand Walk a mile with me in emerald dreams
I'm fond of quoting the maxim that, just as clothing is held together, not by a few knots in a large rope, but by thousands of tiny stitches, love is not shown by a few grand gestures, but by the thousands of little things we do every day.
And then, in order to have an excuse for an a capella song, and because I've been watching the Cadfael mysteries again, I thought I'd do it as a monastic chant.
Which required translating it roughly into Latin, of course . . .
I'm proud to say that Russia Saturn makes her recording debut right here. Listen carefully to her harmony in the last few seconds of the song.
Millae consutae aliquantulus Amor est; amor est Approximate translation: Thousands of tiny stitches Love is, love is Literally: Thousands of stitches not large Love is, love is
I've learned since I wrote this that it should actually be more like this:
millia consutulorum consutum aliquantulorum millia consutulorum amor est, amor est
Swingabilly deluxe.
Asked my dad if we'd ever get there I was tired and hungry and hot He said "Sometimes ya gotta hike a while To camp out in the best spot" We climbed and climbed forever it seemed, But it musta been an hour or so I forgot all about the dust and pain Looking down across the valley below Some things don't come easy That's all I've got to say If you wanna see the view from a mountaintop It's uphill all the way Back when I was a kid at school I was skinny and wore big glasses All us smart-mouthed straight-A kids Were always gettin' knocked on our backsides I loved to learn and did real well Use some of it to this day, but Getting through the social infrastructure of school Was uphill all the way Some things don't come easy That's all I've got to say For geeks like me in a public school It's uphill all the way Got a family, wife and kids Tryin' to make ends meet Hustle all week just to find the ends By Friday night you're beat Overdo the weekend Monday morning's grey Tryin' to make a living in the city, boy, is uphill all the way Some things don't come easy That's all I've got to say Tryin' to make a living in the city, boy, Is uphill all the way Some things don't come easy That's all I've got to say Most of what makes life worthwhile Is uphill all the way Uphill all the way Uphill all the way
Started out as a chord progression excercise, trying to get as far away from country as possible. (I love country, which is why every darned song I write turns out to be rockabilly or country; just trying to push myself in new directions.)
After the chords were sorted out, playing with a melody, it got recorded with a high pipey organ sound that made me think of a late 50s sugary teen pop love song. So, it is.
Finally hit me and it comes as quite a surprise I haven't known her long but you know how a good time flies I wanna tell her how I feel 'cause I know this time it's real I think I'm in love with a girl with sky blue eyes When we're together does she think about other guys? My head keeps thinking what my foolish heart denies I don't know what to do Gotta know if her love is true I think I'm in love with a girl with sky blue eyes She lets me walk her home And take her out to dance Last week she held my hand So I think I'll take a chance I've known all along, what I feel I can't disguise Ya gotta toss the ring if you wanna win the prize We'll take a little walk tonight And everything's gonna be alright I think I'm in love with a girl with sky blue eyes
Had the great joy of working with Phil Norman on this one.
I've spent a lot of time having internal conversations with a much younger version of myself, trying to sort out how I could have avoided some of the life-changing wrong choices I've made. I didn't realize how much it's been on my mind until this song came out on its own, and until it put me flat on my back in bed with chest pains from a full-blown panic attack. Been a while since my own lyrics affected me like that.
This recording was particularly trying, mostly because Phil sings my words so perfectly I got so choked up trying to sing my parts that I had to work out a bass-driven click-track, mute Phil's vocals, and sing to my click-track, just to get through it.
It is joy beyond words to hear a voice like Phil's singing my words (and, in what is the best phrasing in the entire song, those of T. S. Elliot)
they say the planes are grounded
we'll be here all night
left a nice warm hotel room
to make this flight
won't be the first time
I've slept sitting up
might as well have some coffee
you want a cup?
coffee? no, I don't think so
that'd just make it worse
you may have slept in airports before
but this is my first
I could sure use a drink, though
But first I need a phone
Gotta call my wife
Tell her I won't be home
There's a million roads through life
Not one's a sure bet
The best you can hope for
Is the path of least regret
I've got no one to call
No place I belong
No one's waitin' for me anywhere
Not for way too long
Made a choice and lost that life
Long time ago
Sittin' in an airport just like this
Watchin' the falling snow
My wife won't be waiting for me
Not after this call
I'm not headed home right now
Not goin' home at all
It's over between us
The spark we had is gone
No point in tryin' to bring it back
So I'm moving on
There's a million roads through life
Not one's a sure bet
The best you can hope for
Is the path of least regret
That's exactly the choice I made
So far in the past
Left a wife I didn't think I loved
For greener grass
But there's always another field
Just beyond the fence
After while the paths I chose
Stopped making sense
I don't know if I love her or not
Don't know my own heart
The past year something's changed
We just drifted apart
Tonight I stopped finding reasons
To keep it afloat
Just a whimper, not a bang
Like the man wrote
There's a million roads through life
Not one's a sure bet
The best you can hope for
Is the path of least regret
I wanted to change his mind
Didn't know what to say
I could've used some good advice
Before I left that day
But no one even tried
I'll never know for sure
If I might have gone back that night
And spent my life with her
Hope he's not trying to change my mind
Nothing he could say
I don't need anyone's advice
I can make my own way
But maybe I'll take my time
Nothin else to do
Sit a while and watch the snow
And think it all through
There's a million roads through life
Not one's a sure bet
The best you can hope for
Is the path of least regret
It seems like the more I write, the more songs present themselves unbidden to my mind.
My girl sleeps in my best shirt My girl snitches my dessert My girl says that I'm her man She holds my heart right in her hand My girl doesn't watch the news My girl wears out all her shoes My girl likes the way I kiss And it doesn't get any better than this My girl shares my morning tea My girl shares her life with me My girl shares my bed at night With her arms around me, good and tight My girl loves to ride along My girl never steers me wrong My girl makes the trip sublime She drives me crazy all the time My girl likes to hear me sing My girl likes to sway and swing My girl dances just for me She knows her stuff, I’ll guarantee My girl doesn't call me fat My girl doesn't act like that My girl loves me just the same That's why she's wearing my last name
While Best Beloved spent four months in the hospital, I killed a lot of time doing things like April Art Month. Most of my submissions were digitally modified photographs, but this song popped into my head pretty much just as it is, so I figured 'art is art' (and I couldn't use it for FAWM) so why not?
Nothin' can fill this empty in my heart Nothin' I do means nothin' since we've been apart I stay up late 'cause I just can't sleep Head's all woolly from not countin' sheep Nothin' can fill this empty in my heart It's been two weeks and four days and six hours since you left And my chest is just another tragic victim of theft My heart quit beatin' when you went away And my head took a beatin' every single day Of that two weeks and four days and six hours since you left Lord knows I been doin' everything I can To get you back safe and sound And I know you could never love another man And we all know you're comin' around But right now Nothin' can fill this empty in my heart Nothin' I do means nothin' since we've been apart I stay up late 'cause I just can't sleep Head's all woolly from not countin' sheep Nothin' can fill this empty in my heart Nothin' can fill this empty in my heart Nothin' can fill this empty in my heart
My four older kids haven't spoken to me since their mom and I divorced four years ago. Sometimes the pain is excrutiating, not knowing what they're thinking and feeling.
When the final version is recorded, hopefully it'll come out sounding like Delbert McClenton.
When I left that morning I didn't even say goodbye Now I'm left with such an ache It hurts too much to cry It wasn't you that I was leaving No, it wasn't you at all I tried so hard to keep it from you Just how painful it all was Didn't want to live without you, Tried to keep you, because It wasn't you that I was leaving No, it wasn't you at all You can't know how much I love you Since I went away And now my only hope Is that you'll know someday It wasn't you that I was leaving No, it wasn't you at all
This and 'Wasn't You That I Was Leaving' were written start to finish in about an hour the same evening. Not much else in common between 'em.
Well I hear that woman leaving Gravel crunching under her wheels Well I hear that woman leaving Gravel crunching under her wheels Wish she'd left a little sooner She don't care how this man feels Well I see her tail-lights bouncing As she's heading up the hill Hey, I think those are my tail-lights And they're heading up the hill She may think I'll come and get her But I'll be hanged if I will Now I see the headlights shining As she's turning off the track Old Merc's headlights glowing yellow As she's turning off the track Got a heart just like this night Starless and bible black Well she's left me twice a month Since the day that we got hitched And I used to go and fetch her But I'm tired of getting ditched Now the headlights and the taillights Swinging 'round and it comes down The old Merc is doing cartwheels flinging fenders coming down Now it looks like I'll be walking Bring the tow-truck back from town Not a word is spoken, as I pass her on the ridge She just falls in right beside me, walking down the ridge And I'm having half a notion To just chuck her off the bridge Well she's left me twice a month Since the day that we got hitched And every car I've ever owned Has wound up getting ditched Now I think I'll have the last laugh She don't like it she can take a hike Now I think I'll have the last laugh She don't like it she can take a hike Not buyin' no more cars, I'm gettin' me a bike
The abandoned mining town of Jerome Arizona was built on Cleopatra Hill. From the mid-1800s to WWII a billion dollars worth of copper was extracted from the hillside. After the war, when copper prices dropped, the town was almost deserted. During the past decade it has become a hangout for artists and a sort of tourist attraction, being only 30 minutes from Sedona, and about an hour away from both the Grand Canyon and Red Rocks Amphitheatre.
I'd like to live there some day.
It started as pure, unadulterated country. It was swing for about five minutes. Once we wandered into the metal arrangement, there was no going back.
Sorry.
A billion dollars worth of pennies
Would make a pile up to the stars
But now the copper's hung in windows
like Zonie Greenwich Village objets d'art
They built her on a hill called cleopatra
And tore her heart out for that copper ore
They suckled at her breast up in that eagle's nest
And turned the milk into machines of war
Cleopatra Copper
Looks like you've made your play
Your painted eyes have got me
But I'm afraid
I can't stay
They pulled a million tons of copper from your hillside
You were a wild and woolly wicked western town
On Cleopatra's face just like a landslide
Then copper died and no one hung around
Cleopatra Copper
Looks like you've made your play
Your painted eyes have got me
And I'm thinkin'
I might stay
An hour away they've got the grandest canyon
And red rocks where the tourists come to play
But i'm content to nest with cleopatra
Another copper hillside castaway
Cleopatra Copper
Looks like you've made your play
Your painted eyes have got me
Can't tear myself away
Yeah it looks like
I'm here to stay
An earlier Irish folk tune for the Littlest One. Includes a pub chorus of the entire family.
Our transition to a new life culminated in a month in County Kerry, Ireland. I think we'll live there some day.
Comin' o'er the hill, o'er the hill so green Fairest little maid that you've ever seen Clearest eyes o' blue and a little button nose Darlin' of my life is Fiona Rose Doesn't know a jig from a worker's awl Doesn't know a polka from her da's pub crawl She'll never know the way I feel But when she dances o! how my heart does reel
I have a guitar that belonged to my father's father, who I met only twice. It's a tenor guitar, only four strings, archtop instead of flat top. It was designed to play with a jazz band; the archtop with f-holes cuts through the loud band better so you can hear the rhythm guitar.
Years ago I raised the strings so I could play it with a slide; hoping for a dobro sound. It's not, really, but today I started sliding what music geeks would call a 1-3-4 pattern, just fooling around. Turned the recorder on, and a little bit at a time it just came into my head.
It was supposed to be an instrumental, but any time I have a chance to sing to my Best Beloved about how much I love our life together, and how much I hope for the future, instrumentals don't stand a chance.
stars sliding by in a midnight sky our little boat sails itself as on the deck we lie nothing else in the universe but you and I
Now, I'm not saying I want to play guitar instead of bass, I just wish I could flail through the chords the way my buddy Dave does.
Waddya mean, practice?
I do, though, love the fact that I can whip out lyrics I enjoy this much in under two minutes, from concept to completion. [yeah, I'm bragging. but I still don't play guitar]
I hear all those folkie kidsters And their fakey folkie songs They all seem to think they're Dylan And I seem to think they're wrong My experience and age Should make my point so plain to see But there's one impediment Which by now I'll bet you see If I could only play guitar If I could only play guitar Might not make it to the big time but I'd make it pretty far If I could only play guitar All my musical examples Strum the six-string all day long And they seem to think it's normal When they're writing a new song But no matter how my lyrics Make my fingers ache to dance On that rosewood fingerboard Ha! you know there's not a chance If I could only play guitar If I could only play guitar Might not make it to the big time but I'd make it pretty far If I could only play guitar Well my drumming is anemic And my keyboard skills are rough My singing is improving But for now it's good enough I play bass for satisfaction No sour grapes; it was a choice But I sometimes think a six-string Would go better with my voice If I could only play guitar If I could only play guitar Might not make it to the big time but I'd make it pretty far If I could only play guitar
Strangle Disco: you had to be there.
Resistance was futile.
Anagram for a title. Background melody shamelessly stolen from Ludwig Van.
Which, when thumpchuffed on the bass, reminded me strongly of Sweet's "Love is Like Oxygen" which, of course brought to mind the snake-swallowing-a-chicken horror of "Ballroom Blitz", resulting in the preposterous vocalizations herein.
Also, I wanted to direct the strangle toward something less disturbing, so here, it's just a bass note getting choked.
Eight bass tracks and one vocal; no other instruments were harmed in the making of this recording.
Ludwig's luscious low tones Lingered long as he spoke it As the last note comes I long him to choke it I long him to I long him to I long him to choke it I long him to I long him to I long him to choke it