"Interview with Pete Morton" Simon Jones
"Pete Morton – A Golden Thread: Album Review" Mike Ainscow
Monday, July 27, 2020
Wednesday, July 22, 2020
Bill Morrissey died in 2011
Bill Morrissey's words and voice offered moments of joy, certainly elements of despair, touches of humor, hard-earned knowledge and oh so accessible human experiences. He left us on this day in 2011. The following are a handful of his many musical highlights:
The house burned down on a rainy night and I never did find out why
I just stood alone ‘neath the silver maple – trying to keep my cigarettes dry
Waiting for the fireman I couldn’t save a thing
And deep within my home above the roar of the flames – I thought I heard a telephone ring
The rain let up and we worked till dawn – just me and the fireman
And when they cut the power the line went dead and I never got called again
The house was gone by the break of dawn, the air was cold and grey
I just set off down the road alone – but it’s always gone that way
So young, so long ago, I thought I heard that train
Calling out my name – well it sounded like my name
Just a boy with no direction – I left my home behind
And the sky changed colors once I crossed that town line
My good friends did the best they could to hold me down with them
But I took one look, I packed my bags and I slipped around the bend
The lessons came from left and right – the first night out I found
All the laws were not made to protect the man from out of town
There was a cold town on the seacoast I once tried to call home
And the church steeples rose up above that town like broken bones
Drinking whiskey with a catholic priest one night in the rectory hall
He just closed his eyes and said, ‘you never know when Jesus calls’
Then his eyes got wide and he looked around and he just could not explain
like he heard the sound of Jesus laugh, the way I heard that train
Now the years and the faces blurs till I can’t remember some
There were women washing windows, there were salesgirls chewing gum
There were curses in the shapes of old men kneeling in the pews
There are things in this life a man just does not get to choose
Finally I found a home in a tiny mountain town
A simple place to keep me dry when the rains came pouring down
A place to sleep, the rent was cheap, brick walls and a new slate roof
The landlord said, ‘You’ll be safe here, this house is fireproof
They sat at each end of the couch, watched as the fire burned down,
So quiet on this winter's night, not a house light on for miles around.
Then he said, "I think I'll fill the stove. it's getting time for bed."
She looked up, "I think I'll have some wine.
how 'bout you?" she asked and he declined.
"Warren," she said, "maybe just for tonight,
Let's fill the stove with birches
and watch as the fire burns bright.
How long has it been? I know it's quite a while.
Pour yourself half a glass.
Stay with me a little while."
And Warren, he shook his head,
as if she'd made some kind of joke.
"Birches on a winter night?
no, we'll fill the stove with oak.
Oak will burn as long and hot as a July afternoon,
And birch will burn itself out by the rising of the moon.
"And you hate a cold house, same as me.
Am I right or not?"
"All right, all right, that's true," she said.
"It was just a thought, 'Cause," she said,
"Cause, Warren, you do look tired.
Maybe you should go up to bed.
I'll look after the fire tonight."
"Oak," he told her. "Oak," she said.
She listened to his footsteps
as he climbed up the stairs,
And she pulled a sweater on her,
set her wineglass on a chair.
She walked down cellar to the wood box
it was as cold as an ice chest
And climbed back up with four logs,
each as white as a wedding dress.
And she filled the stove and poured the wine
and she sat down on the floor.
She curled her legs beneath her
as the fire sprang to life once more.
And it filled the room with a hungry light
and it cracked as it drew air,
And the shadows danced a jittery waltz
like no one else was there.
And she stood up in the heat.
She twirled around the room.
And the shadows they saw nothing
but a young girl on her honeymoon.
And she knew the time it would be short;
soon the fire would start to fade.
She thought of heat.
She thought of time.
She called it an even trade.
They used to come to town from the naval base
Lookin' for a stiff drink and a pretty face
Hang around the whorehouses all night long
Some were drifters and some were bums
Some were just waiting for the war to come
Out behind the factory
With a bottle and a factory girl.
Well, that December, war broke out
Many a woman lost her man
Some wrote from overseas; some didn't
And their women didn't understand
And the whores left for the harbor towns
where the business was still good. T
he factory girls worked double shifts
put in as much time as they could.
In that small town on the river
Small town on the river
Some men came home aces and some were carried home
But each one was a hero
No man was left alone.
Some took jobs, some went to school,
some found they'd fathered kids.
Most tried and could not forget,
Some wound up on the skids.
In that small town on the river
Small town on the river
Well forty years later the town remains the same.
One mill burnt down, another one was built
The paychecks now come from a different name.
And at the Eagles and the Legion Hall no one seems to age
With the same jokes told and the TV on
And the paper open to the Sports page.
In that small town on the river
Small town on the river
And I was talking with the bartender
last night at the PAC,
A Navy man from World War II,
Sharp dresser though he don't have to be.
And over a double Bourbon
He said "I'll tell you man to man,
This town died forty years ago.
Son, get out while you can.
It's just a small town on the river
Small town on the river
You can look into her eyes and live forever
She's as restless as the sea
She's as calm as a summer dawn
She's that kind of mystery
And you can write the song that wins her heart
A song will take you half the way
But you've known from the start
You'll never write the song that makes her stay
Love comes in a sound of a dream
In a whisper of a prayer
In a promise of a sigh
And love comes from the corner of a smile
But it isn't meant for you
She will only stay awhile
And she will fall asleep within your arms
And you will know the fear as lovers do
For in the night she'll pledge her heart
But she cannot feel what is not hers
Love comes in a sound of a dream
In a whisper of a prayer
In a promise of a sigh
And love comes from the corner of a smile
But it isn't meant for you
She will only stay awhile
You can look into her eyes and live forever
She's as restless as the sea
She's as calm as a summer dawn
She's that kind of mystery
Mama Cass has dropped some weight
and Charlie Parker’s clean
Django’s fingers have both gone straight
And they’ve got driving lessons for James Dean
Jimi’s playing faster and sometimes we jam all day
And old Abe Lincoln is a happy boy
’cause he finally got to see the end of the play
It’s a great life here in heaven
It’s better than the Bible said
It’s a great life here in heaven
It’s a great life when you’re dead
There ain’t no egos anywhere
and no one talks show biz
And Gabriel, he’s got a great big smile
He’s taking lessons from Miles and Diz
Bing Crosby’s on the green in one
and he’s singing when he putts
And Elvis really likes to visit earth
just to drive you people nuts
It’s a great life here in heaven
It’s better than the Bible said
It’s a great life here in heaven
It’s a great life when you’re dead
And me, I couldn’t be happier
The service here is fine
They’ve got dinner ready at half-past nine
And I’m going steady with Patsy Cline
And just last night in a bar room
I bought Robert Johnson a beer
Yeah, I know, everybody’s always surprised to find him here
It’s a great life here in heaven
It’s better than the Bible said
It’s a great life here in heaven
It’s a great life when you’re dead
The house burned down on a rainy night and I never did find out why
I just stood alone ‘neath the silver maple – trying to keep my cigarettes dry
Waiting for the fireman I couldn’t save a thing
And deep within my home above the roar of the flames – I thought I heard a telephone ring
The rain let up and we worked till dawn – just me and the fireman
And when they cut the power the line went dead and I never got called again
The house was gone by the break of dawn, the air was cold and grey
I just set off down the road alone – but it’s always gone that way
So young, so long ago, I thought I heard that train
Calling out my name – well it sounded like my name
Just a boy with no direction – I left my home behind
And the sky changed colors once I crossed that town line
My good friends did the best they could to hold me down with them
But I took one look, I packed my bags and I slipped around the bend
The lessons came from left and right – the first night out I found
All the laws were not made to protect the man from out of town
There was a cold town on the seacoast I once tried to call home
And the church steeples rose up above that town like broken bones
Drinking whiskey with a catholic priest one night in the rectory hall
He just closed his eyes and said, ‘you never know when Jesus calls’
Then his eyes got wide and he looked around and he just could not explain
like he heard the sound of Jesus laugh, the way I heard that train
Now the years and the faces blurs till I can’t remember some
There were women washing windows, there were salesgirls chewing gum
There were curses in the shapes of old men kneeling in the pews
There are things in this life a man just does not get to choose
Finally I found a home in a tiny mountain town
A simple place to keep me dry when the rains came pouring down
A place to sleep, the rent was cheap, brick walls and a new slate roof
The landlord said, ‘You’ll be safe here, this house is fireproof
They sat at each end of the couch, watched as the fire burned down,
So quiet on this winter's night, not a house light on for miles around.
Then he said, "I think I'll fill the stove. it's getting time for bed."
She looked up, "I think I'll have some wine.
how 'bout you?" she asked and he declined.
"Warren," she said, "maybe just for tonight,
Let's fill the stove with birches
and watch as the fire burns bright.
How long has it been? I know it's quite a while.
Pour yourself half a glass.
Stay with me a little while."
And Warren, he shook his head,
as if she'd made some kind of joke.
"Birches on a winter night?
no, we'll fill the stove with oak.
Oak will burn as long and hot as a July afternoon,
And birch will burn itself out by the rising of the moon.
"And you hate a cold house, same as me.
Am I right or not?"
"All right, all right, that's true," she said.
"It was just a thought, 'Cause," she said,
"Cause, Warren, you do look tired.
Maybe you should go up to bed.
I'll look after the fire tonight."
"Oak," he told her. "Oak," she said.
She listened to his footsteps
as he climbed up the stairs,
And she pulled a sweater on her,
set her wineglass on a chair.
She walked down cellar to the wood box
it was as cold as an ice chest
And climbed back up with four logs,
each as white as a wedding dress.
And she filled the stove and poured the wine
and she sat down on the floor.
She curled her legs beneath her
as the fire sprang to life once more.
And it filled the room with a hungry light
and it cracked as it drew air,
And the shadows danced a jittery waltz
like no one else was there.
And she stood up in the heat.
She twirled around the room.
And the shadows they saw nothing
but a young girl on her honeymoon.
And she knew the time it would be short;
soon the fire would start to fade.
She thought of heat.
She thought of time.
She called it an even trade.
They used to come to town from the naval base
Lookin' for a stiff drink and a pretty face
Hang around the whorehouses all night long
Some were drifters and some were bums
Some were just waiting for the war to come
Out behind the factory
With a bottle and a factory girl.
Well, that December, war broke out
Many a woman lost her man
Some wrote from overseas; some didn't
And their women didn't understand
And the whores left for the harbor towns
where the business was still good. T
he factory girls worked double shifts
put in as much time as they could.
In that small town on the river
Small town on the river
Some men came home aces and some were carried home
But each one was a hero
No man was left alone.
Some took jobs, some went to school,
some found they'd fathered kids.
Most tried and could not forget,
Some wound up on the skids.
In that small town on the river
Small town on the river
Well forty years later the town remains the same.
One mill burnt down, another one was built
The paychecks now come from a different name.
And at the Eagles and the Legion Hall no one seems to age
With the same jokes told and the TV on
And the paper open to the Sports page.
In that small town on the river
Small town on the river
And I was talking with the bartender
last night at the PAC,
A Navy man from World War II,
Sharp dresser though he don't have to be.
And over a double Bourbon
He said "I'll tell you man to man,
This town died forty years ago.
Son, get out while you can.
It's just a small town on the river
Small town on the river
You can look into her eyes and live forever
She's as restless as the sea
She's as calm as a summer dawn
She's that kind of mystery
And you can write the song that wins her heart
A song will take you half the way
But you've known from the start
You'll never write the song that makes her stay
Love comes in a sound of a dream
In a whisper of a prayer
In a promise of a sigh
And love comes from the corner of a smile
But it isn't meant for you
She will only stay awhile
And she will fall asleep within your arms
And you will know the fear as lovers do
For in the night she'll pledge her heart
But she cannot feel what is not hers
Love comes in a sound of a dream
In a whisper of a prayer
In a promise of a sigh
And love comes from the corner of a smile
But it isn't meant for you
She will only stay awhile
You can look into her eyes and live forever
She's as restless as the sea
She's as calm as a summer dawn
She's that kind of mystery
Mama Cass has dropped some weight
and Charlie Parker’s clean
Django’s fingers have both gone straight
And they’ve got driving lessons for James Dean
Jimi’s playing faster and sometimes we jam all day
And old Abe Lincoln is a happy boy
’cause he finally got to see the end of the play
It’s a great life here in heaven
It’s better than the Bible said
It’s a great life here in heaven
It’s a great life when you’re dead
There ain’t no egos anywhere
and no one talks show biz
And Gabriel, he’s got a great big smile
He’s taking lessons from Miles and Diz
Bing Crosby’s on the green in one
and he’s singing when he putts
And Elvis really likes to visit earth
just to drive you people nuts
It’s a great life here in heaven
It’s better than the Bible said
It’s a great life here in heaven
It’s a great life when you’re dead
And me, I couldn’t be happier
The service here is fine
They’ve got dinner ready at half-past nine
And I’m going steady with Patsy Cline
And just last night in a bar room
I bought Robert Johnson a beer
Yeah, I know, everybody’s always surprised to find him here
It’s a great life here in heaven
It’s better than the Bible said
It’s a great life here in heaven
It’s a great life when you’re dead
Monday, July 20, 2020
Sunday, July 19, 2020
Mary McCaslin needs the folk music world's assistance
"Folk Music & Beyond: Way Out West--Songs of Mary McCaslin" Joanne Mar
"Join us tomorrow (this Saturday) 3 pm (PDT) on KALW’s “Folk Music & Beyond” for a tribute to California-based singer-songwriter Mary McCaslin. We’ll revisit musical highlights from her career and feature an interview with Mary discussing her music. Rolling Stone said about her music 'McCaslin's unorthodox guitar tunings create unusual, ethereal melodies of striking beauty. Combined with her clear, delicately affecting vocals, the effects are magical ….'"
"Join us tomorrow (this Saturday) 3 pm (PDT) on KALW’s “Folk Music & Beyond” for a tribute to California-based singer-songwriter Mary McCaslin. We’ll revisit musical highlights from her career and feature an interview with Mary discussing her music. Rolling Stone said about her music 'McCaslin's unorthodox guitar tunings create unusual, ethereal melodies of striking beauty. Combined with her clear, delicately affecting vocals, the effects are magical ….'"
Mary’s GoFundMe Campaign: Mary is suffering from progressive supranuclear palsy (very similar to Parkinson’s disease) and she’s no longer able to sing and perform. Thanks to a campaign started by her friend Ginny Mitchell, Mary is trying to raise funds to help cover her medical and caregiving expenses. Click here to contribute.
Listen to KALW from wherever you are: If you’re in the Bay Area, listen at 91.7. If you’re outside of San Francisco, listen to our live stream https://www.kalw.org/#stream/0 And if you can’t listen this Saturday, the program is available for on-demand listening for one week following the broadcast https://www.kalw.org/programs/folk-music-beyond
Dave Carter died on this day in 2002
The departure of some people leaves a gaping hole that cannot ever be fully filled. Dave Carter is certainly one of those.
Dave Carter Wikipedia
Dave Carter Legacy Project
(Re)Covered In Folk: Dave Carter, 1952 – 2002 The Legacy of a Buddhist Cowboy Poet
Dave Carter’s Final Class
Dave Carter and Tracy Grammer Interviewed by Mike Devlin
come, lonely hunter, chieftain and king, I will fly like the falcon when I go
bear me my brother under your wing, I will strike fell like lightning when I go
I will bellow like the thunder drum, invoke the storm of war
a twisting pillar spun of dust and blood up from the prairie floor
I will sweep the foe before me like a gale out on the snow
and the wind will long recount the story, reverence and glory, when I go
spring, spirit dancer, nimble and thin, I will leap like coyote when I go
tireless entrancer, lend me your skin, I will run like the gray wolf when I go
I will climb the rise at daybreak, I will kiss the sky at noon
raise my yearning voice at midnight to my mother in the moon
I will make the lay of long defeat and draw the chorus slow
I'll send this message down the wire and hope that someone wise is listening when I go
and when the sun comes trumpets from his red house in the east
he will find a standing stone where long I chanted my release
he will send his morning messenger to strike the hammer blow
and I will crumble down uncountable in showers of crimson rubies when I go
sigh, mournful sister, whisper and turn, I will rattle like dry leaves when I go
stand in the mist where my fire used to burn, I will camp on the night breeze when I go
and should you glimpse my wandering form out on the borderline
between death and resurrection and the council of the pines
do not worry for my comfort, do not sorrow for me so
all your diamond tears will rise up and adorn the sky beside me when I go
Dave Carter Wikipedia
Dave Carter Legacy Project
(Re)Covered In Folk: Dave Carter, 1952 – 2002 The Legacy of a Buddhist Cowboy Poet
Dave Carter’s Final Class
Dave Carter and Tracy Grammer Interviewed by Mike Devlin
come, lonely hunter, chieftain and king, I will fly like the falcon when I go
bear me my brother under your wing, I will strike fell like lightning when I go
I will bellow like the thunder drum, invoke the storm of war
a twisting pillar spun of dust and blood up from the prairie floor
I will sweep the foe before me like a gale out on the snow
and the wind will long recount the story, reverence and glory, when I go
spring, spirit dancer, nimble and thin, I will leap like coyote when I go
tireless entrancer, lend me your skin, I will run like the gray wolf when I go
I will climb the rise at daybreak, I will kiss the sky at noon
raise my yearning voice at midnight to my mother in the moon
I will make the lay of long defeat and draw the chorus slow
I'll send this message down the wire and hope that someone wise is listening when I go
and when the sun comes trumpets from his red house in the east
he will find a standing stone where long I chanted my release
he will send his morning messenger to strike the hammer blow
and I will crumble down uncountable in showers of crimson rubies when I go
sigh, mournful sister, whisper and turn, I will rattle like dry leaves when I go
stand in the mist where my fire used to burn, I will camp on the night breeze when I go
and should you glimpse my wandering form out on the borderline
between death and resurrection and the council of the pines
do not worry for my comfort, do not sorrow for me so
all your diamond tears will rise up and adorn the sky beside me when I go
Sunday, July 12, 2020
Jeff Emery's KZSC "Backroads" show, July 12, 2020
Celebrating 25 years as a folk music DJ at KZSC 88.1 FM, Jeff Emery offered more of the songs that inspired him to become become a radio broadcaster.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)