This is a song from 2012 which I've been meaning to return to for ages. Out goes the Tom Waits impression in the spoken word verse and in comes something closer to my own accent. Out go the clunkiest lines, in come 2021 replacements. And, into the chorus, comes an actual singer. Much love and thanks to https://soundcloud.com/jennifer-young-75. It's a strange experience working on this again almost a decade later. Those living circumstances were never as dire as portrayed in the song but they spoke as much to a mental dysfunction - messiness of the mind - as they did to an environmental one. Dismal as things may have seemed, there was still a sense of confidence that this was a temporary state - that somewhere in the turbulent depths, wings were being repaired and readied for flight. There was a gutsiness to the hope in this song which makes me smile at my younger self. Because he was dead right. The Phoenix rose.  

Phoenix Rises From The Ashes

I'm drowning in dust
Refrigerator's bust
Dirty dishes everywhere

Maintenance abandoned
Why does the heat come on at random?
Something's rotten over there

TV dinners gone stale
Dying plants, unopened mail
There's a smell of decomposition in the air

I'll make it right again
Watch for the moment when
Phoenix rises from the ashes
Cool and magnificent 
Phoenix rises from the ashes

And in the end
Flies away
Flies away

There's empties piling up
Last week's coffee in a cup
Even ghosts shake their heads at the gloom

Broken glass on the floor
Cobwebs in the jamb of the door
I don't think we need mention the bedroom

I'll come good again
Be at your window when
Phoenix rises from the ashes
Cool and magnificent 
Phoenix rises from the ashes

And in the end
Flies away
Flies away ...

Phoenix Rises From The Ashes (re-risen version)

Usually spend a bit more time on recordings. This one I was very quick in conception and putting together. I think it had to be.

If you get talking to your heart
Say from me I still love you
If you run into your friends
Tell them I said they know nothing about my life
If you reflect upon us
Reflect upon my arms around you
If you ever see me again
Don’t bow your head like you don’t know me
You know who I am

If You Get Talking To Your Heart

This is the first pass at a new song

All I Can Do In These Circumtances

In the morning when I wake beside you
I wonder whether I made it
Through the night
Or did I fall asleep alone
And open my eyes to an angel
In the afterlife?

I don’t know which one of the two
Just as long as my gaze can fall upon you


When you’re in my arms in the afternoon
I touch your face to be certain
That I still can
Or are you just a trick of the light
A case of wishful thinking 
For a deluded man?

All that I ask is if you’re not real
Then never stop me believing what I feel


At night time when the sun descends
I think about tomorrow
Will we still be here?
Or will the clocks freeze, will memories seize?
Will the pilot lights in our bodies
Just disappear?

All I can do in these circumstances
Is love you and carry on taking my chances

All I Can Do In These Circumstances

This is one of countless pearls in Tom Waits' canon. Just fancied having a go at it.

Long Way Home - Tom Waits cover

This song's a bit rough - rather like it's hero, the dearly departed La Boeuf ...

I'm Your Guardian Angel

They’re too far away and they’re moving too fast
Five shots already, this one’s my last
I screw up this time and I’ll just look a fool.

And you shouldn’t oughta have come on this trip
You got too much sass, you give too much lip
You carry that cannon and you should be in school

I’m your Guardian Angel don’t forget 
I saved your asses alive and then I saved them dead

And it may be so that you’re growing on me
I was out of line back there with you over my knee
But I don’t think you wanna know what I think

And he’s a fine one to talk about the Alamo
A one eyed fat man, what’s he to know?
Falling on his ass, off his horse with his drink

I’m your Guardian Angel don’t forget 
I saved your asses alive and then I saved them dead

If you see Ned Pepper then tell him from me
A bullet from a gun ain’t the worst destiny
It’s Beelzebub’s pitchfork poking at your wound

If you see Ned Pepper when your demons come to call
Picture my face, I’m in no pain at all
I’ll be back in spring when your garden blooms

I’m your Guardian Angel don’t forget 
I saved your asses alive, then I saved them dead

I'm Your Guardian Angel

I wanted to write a good old-fashioned, take-your-partners romantic waltz ... well, it's certainly in 3/4 time.

The 17th Floor

Buttons so dainty 
My fingers, your curves 
Hair so sweet smelling 
I’m losing my nerve 
Your eyes coolly watching 
My every move 
I want to be like your skin
Obliging and smooth 

When I look at you it puts me in mind  
Of the 17th floor, our very first time 
 
Do not disturb sign 
On the door 
The blouse that noiselessly 
Hits the floor 
The hands once trembling 
Steadier now 
The kiss that lands 
On my eyebrow 
 
When I look at you it puts me in mind  
Of the 17th floor, our very first time 
 
The lift that carried us 
Up to the room 
The curtains wide open 
The wink of the moon
Your whisper as soft
As your wedding dress
Your masterpiece smile
And my artlessness  
 
When I look at you it puts me in mind 
Of the 17th floor, our very first time 
 
Buttoning up 
Your chic apparel 
A band in your hair 
Your boots on as well 
The fire escape stairs 
Then into the rain 
The taxi, that kiss  
‘Let’s do it again’  
 
When I look at you I just want to climb 
To the 17th floor, time after time.

The 17th Floor

I liked the words of the last song I wrote enough to use most of them in this song too. Self plagiarism is an age thing, I guess.
The Stairway to your Heart

Buttons so dainty 
My fingers, your curves 
Hair so sweet smelling 
I’m losing my nerve 
Your eyes coolly watching 
My every move 
I want to be like your skin
Obliging and smooth 

When I look at you it just makes me want to climb
The stairway to your heart another time
 
Do not disturb sign 
Hung up on the door
The blouse that noiselessly 
Hits the floor 
The hands, once trembling 
They’re steadier now 
The kiss that lands 
On my eyebrow 
 
When I look at you it just makes me want to climb
The stairway to your heart another time

The laughter that carried us 
Up to the room 
The curtains wide open 
The wink of the moon
Your whisper as soft
As your wedding dress
Your masterpiece smile
And my artlessness  

When I look at you it just makes me want to climb
The stairway to your heart another time
 
Then buttoning up 
All your chic apparel 
A band in your hair 
Your boots on as well 
The fire escape stairs 
Then into the rain 
The taxi, that kiss  
Let’s do it again  

When I look at you it just makes me want to climb
The stairway to your heart another time

Stairway To Your Heart

I had understood it to be a misfiring of their navigational instincts which normally serve them well - that the doomed moths are the collateral damage, so to speak, of flights which normally conclude without incident. But scientists still debate the reasons. Hearts are different. Many would say they get broken most of the time. In evolutionary terms, it's bonkers.

Why Does The Moth Fly Into The Flame?

A song about grudges, missed opportunities, trains not boarded, inertia ... that kind of thing.

Old Scores

I guess I was trying to settle
Old scores
But the people that need taught
Don’t live here any more

I guess I was waiting to give it
One final shot
But the targets have been moved
They told me, I forgot

I wish that I had been faster on my feet
I just stood there proving I could stand the heat
And now the last train is leaving with an empty seat

I guess I was hanging on to see
If the skies would clear
But the forecast didn’t lie
It was raining all year

You come to depend on those rhythms
That familiar drill
And you think you’re on a journey
You’re really standing still

I know I should have been planning for this day
But I thought that the tougher thing to do was stay
Now the last train in the station is pulling away

I guess what we’re saying is it’s much
Much too late
Someone told me to hurry
Something told me to wait

If I could go back I would drag me
Screaming and scratching
Clear of this invidious fate

Old Scores

I borrowed this tune from myself. It's the same backing that appears on Thunderstruck which is lower down on this page and sung by Jen Young. They weren't really lyrics a chap could sing, so I wrote the following ones for me, just to be on the tune.

The Fool and the Ghost

I stumbled across words that I sent to you
All 200 million of them
On a hard drive of my past I was looking through
Late nights of ‘gee remember when …’

I read what I wrote with the benefit of time
Discovered the remark that I could get behind the most
‘The fool and the ghost’
The fool and the ghost

Remind me who you are and where we met
And why we ever thought that this made sense
Perhaps I’m missing a page, or did I just forget?
Were you some cosmic joke at my expense?

Was it a game show where the object was losing
Your shirt and your shame? And now introducing your hosts
The fool and the ghost. 
The fool and the ghost

Burning midnight oil hypothesising
That I was your stooge, everything was lies
And that’s all she wrote
Or am I melodramatising?

I climbed back on the horse, I’m happy to say
I’ve only fallen off it once or twice
And I’d express myself a different way today
You’d find my thoughts a little more concise

Anyway I thought I would just say hello
And raise my glass to the stars of the show - a toast
To the fool and the ghost. 
The fool and the ghost.
A toast …
To the fool and the ghost. 
The fool and the ghost.

The Fool and the Ghost

So LA proved too much for the man? How, I wonder, did the singer - let's call her Gladys - get on in Georgia? This just in from the guy who said he was going back to find a simpler place and time ...

Old Atlanta Georgia (couldn't hold you very long)

The Chattahoochee has never looked so fine
It was flowing through my mind
That whole damn year in LA
I can breathe again as I stand here today

And yes it’s lonelier now that you’ve gone back
Along the very track
That we took to get here
But I try to focus on getting my head clear

And I still see fallen-faced strangers 
Wondering what went wrong
And they been riding all through the night
Probably singing your song
I tell them old Atlanta, Georgia couldn’t hold you very long

The big blue ocean on this here postcard
Well it’s almost your back yard
And it seems so serene
Tell me why was the city on its shore so mean?

Another numbskull and so starry-eyed
Just like a million other guys
I blew town a wiser man
And you blew out with me, saw my world and ran

And I still see fallen-faced strangers
Wondering what went wrong
And they been riding all through the night
Probably singing your song
I tell them old Atlanta, Georgia couldn’t hold you very long

I tell them old Atlanta, Georgia couldn’t hold you very long etc

Old Atlanta Georgia (couldn't hold you very long)

This is about lost love, paranoia, agoraphobia, the Cold War ... we've all been there. Yay! ;-)

If There's Anyone

If there’s anyone listening on the phone
Maybe you would please make yourself known
If there’s anyone waiting on the line
Were you a friend of hers or mine?
 
Yeah if there’s anyone
Been lying pretty low
If you’re asking who’s at home
Who wants to know?
 
If there’s anyone on the intercom
Perhaps you’ll say where the delivery’s from
If there’s anyone still to leave the room
Did you plan to leave with the bride or groom?
 
Yeah if there’s anyone
Just forget this address
I mustn’t be disturbed
Must convalesce
 
If there’s anyone watching through a lens
She left in spring, haven’t seen her since
If there’s anyone, I’m calling the police
Who sent you here? Was it the west or east?
 
Yeah if there’s anyone
I got nothing more to say
What kind of questions
Are these anyway?
 
Yeah if there’s anyone
I was sleeping on the floor
I can’t help you with that
Try another door

If There's Anyone

Here's a new song. The only explanation I can find is I've been binge-watching Downton Abbey.

Remember Me

What if I promised everything?
You’ll be queen, I don’t have to be king
You can see the world on your own
Climb your mountains alone
But remember me, remember this ring

Remember me, remember

What if mine is the best offer you get?
Heaven forbid, years from now you’re not married yet
My treasure, my land
Is slipping through your hands
What if today is your deepest regret?

So remember me, remember

What if we indulged our wanderlust?
It isn’t right that here they’re down on us
In another time and place
Only sunshine no disgrace
Will you dream my dreams or will they be dust?

Will you remember me, remember
Remember me, remember
Remember me, remember


Remember Me

There was a song about Van Gogh. Another about L S Lowry in the same decade. Painter songs are a little niche in the market I was tempted to explore. The guts of this one were written a few years before Scottish artist Jack Vettriano passed away in Nice in March 2025 but his death sent me back to what I'd written before and made me think I must try harder for the guy. He was a complicated fellow - stung more deeply than perhaps he liked to admit by the fact the art cognoscenti didn't take him very seriously. Anyway, this isn't necessarily his story - I know some of the facts, not all - really just an observer's imagining of it. He once did a picture called Genevieve Smoking a Cigarette, by the way. I figured maybe he had a notion for her.

Many thanks - as ever - to Jen Young for sorely appreciated BVs.

Genevieve 

One day you wake up, can't see past the wallpaper
You hate your whole life, furthermore
You climb inside a painting, it's been a blast
But I’ll have to see you later
Into the picture and out the door

Old lady checks the rooms, even the cellar
There's no sign
Calls her best friend Gen, says you've gone
Your finger's at your lips, you say don't tell her
I just need more time
To paint Genevieve with her stockings on

Genevieve - a dream at the railway station
Come up and light her cigarette
Sardonic, serene like she’s onto something                         
But nobody’s told you yet
Genevieve
Genevieve
You won’t forget

You always wondered how it would be
to pay for action
You show them your money and you feast your eyes
You bring along a picture for them to see
New transaction
Sleep with whoever you immortalise

You landed on your feet Jack, what a player
I'm not joking
They're queuing down the hall like you won't believe
You ask their names, but they don't care,
Whatever you're smoking
You say I think I'll call you Genevieve

Genevieve - a dream …

Years go by, you've painted them all
Made your millions
But there’s no ivory tower for you
Museum guys won’t take your calls
You’re just a civilian
If you wanna paint then you’re welcome to 

One day you wake up, you wonder  
Why am I lonely
Where's my companion at? When did she leave?
What did I file that old picture under? 
Oh, if only …
Climb out of the canvas, Genevieve

Genevieve - a dream ...

Genevieve

I wanted try something vaguely apocalyptic. Please don't have nightmares. 

Getting Hurt

Bad men'll come
They always do
Gonna give you fruit
You're gonna chew

That little heart
This soft tissue
Gonna be like bone when
They're done with you

It's in the wind
Storm's coming in
You can't begin to know

You're on the list
They grab your wrist
And then they kiss you slow

Is everybody here for getting hurt?
I don't want to see you getting hurt

First the leaves, then
Whole trees will fall
Angels gonna slide
Down the walls

It's no good hiding
Curling up in a ball
Evil's putting on
Its overalls

That's how it's done
Crack of a gun
They're already on your case

They're at the door
Coming through the floor
And every pore of your face

Is everybody here for getting hurt?
I don't see want to see you getting hurt

Getting Hurt (remix)

... because sex sells. just renewing acquaintances with my steamy potboiler from a year ago. ;-)


This is a song about a strange day I had about 10 years ago - and its consequences. It's pretty self explanatory really and I'm sure it happens every day, but not usually to me. Of course I could be crude and stick up a suggestive pic with this, so I did ... guitar porn.

Naked Girl and a Guitar

She sat on the bed with no clothes on
All she had was this guitar
And a song
And an audience of one
She sang like blackbirds sing at dawn

She slipped into her robe
Brought coffee, toast and biscuits on a tray
They were average
But we ate them anyway
Smoked the first cigarette of the day

She slipped out of her robe and our bodies
Played a little game 
Of bride and groom
I said 'do you wanna hear a tune?
'Or babe let's just lie here and spoon'

She woke me hours later
And said 'Sweetheart, I know you've got some place to be
Better hurry'
Then I think she rolled her eyes at me
Walked to the door and turned the key

But that's not the end of our story
No that's not the end by far
The truth is there's no end
To the trouble you get in
With a naked girl and a guitar

Naked Girl And A Guitar

teensy bit of theft going on in the drum loop - sorry Amy, you were still alive back when I nicked it.



Barbara

I don't mean to be a drag about my illness
Not the rowing boat motion, it's the water's stillness
Somewhere on the bottom I thought I saw a sacrificial lamb              
I don't have a clue why I'm still afraid of you
But I am

Careful up ahead, that's a water feature
If you start drowning on me, I'll never reach you
And I know if I did, you'd only haul me overboard too
I don't know why I distrust you so
But I do

Barbara, why am I here with you?
Barbara, it was only meant to be a beer with you

I should've walked away in Trafalgar Square
You were feeding the pigeons, I was standing there
From the corner of my eye I thought I saw a lion statue move
And I don't know what talking to ghosts 
Is meant to prove

Barbara, are you mad with me?
Barbara, after all the fun you've had with me

Let's go catch a ride to the Latin Quarter
Or the Giant's Causeway, whatever's shorter
We'll both stand in line and whoever blinks first gets the bill
I don't know how you'll destroy me now
But you will

Barbara, even now you're a mystery
Barbara, why do you want to do all this to me?

Barbara

CGDGAD tuning

A thousand thanks to all Soundclouders who voted this little song into the Music World Radio chart. I've never been in a chart before. Cynical friends of mine suggest it's a Mickey Mouse chart, but hey, it's better to be in one of those than nowhere at all. I'm not going to do this every week - promise - but my poor little heart is kinda set on a two week residency. Voting is open for this week's chart and will remain so until midnight Thursday UK time. So If you enjoy this one please go to http://www.topchoons.com/  and do the needful. Takes about 5 seconds. If you don't enjoy it much, why not go for the wonderful WindWriter - she's straight in at number 5 with Happily Sad! Again, many thanks to everyone for such great support for this song. It's hugely appreciated. ;-)  

Something happened and I was offered a free Scandinavian cruise and I didn't want to go and I said no and other people said I should have gone. It was a very confusing time. Anyway I pondered on it and decided to explore my feelings about Scandinavian cruises in this song. Turns out I was right all along. 
This is the tune for an earlier song of mine called My Heart Pinballs. Didn't really do it for me, so here's how it goes now. Still a little rough, but thought I'd, you know, float it. ;-)

Oh, by the way, it's not Scandinavia, it's cruise ships.


Rescue Me

You think you want to be in the cold North Sea
In a boat off Scandinavia?
Frozen to the bone
No signal for your phone
You let the captain enslave you
I'm done talking to everyone
Got no shipmates on this cruise
Going down to my cabin
I'm sinking in the blues
Don't care if it's free
They should be paying me
I should've refused

I don't want to see the world
Not on a rusted floating coffin with a captain
Wanna see it with you
And I'd die more contentedly
On the skids in Tennessee
Drunk in Phoenix Arizona
Than drowning here in this fake gentility
Or you could just rescue me

On the starboard side
They got little boats tied
Wish I knew how to free them
Strike out on my own
Let the stars guide me home
If the clouds let me see them
I don't want to go to Gothenburg
Helsinki sounds a bore
Just want a way off this tub
Calling ship to shore
Get me out of here
You'll have a mutineer
I'm not sailing any more

I don't want to see the world
Not on a rusted floating coffin with a captain
Wanna see it with you
And I'd die happier to be
On the skids in Tennessee
Drunk in Phoenix Arizona
Than drowning here in this fake gentility
Or you could just rescue me


Rescue Me

This is the closing track on my album Time On My Own, now available at http://brokerjonathan.bandcamp.com/

It's a collaboration between myself and soundclouder http://soundcloud.com/itneverhappened who plays most of the instruments here. Many thanks to him for a great collaborative experience and for approving the use of the song on the album.

Music: Itneverhappened and Broker Jonathan
Lyrics, vocal, acoustic guitar: Broker Jonathan
Guitars, bass, synths, drum programming: Itneverhappened
Mastering: smallfishrecordings 

Fly

If I could be a fly on the wall in your mind
would we survive a day?
If you could be a fly on the wall in mine
How long before you fly away?

If I could be a fly on the wall in your mind
Would we survive a day?
If you could be a fly on the wall in mine
Would you fly away?
Would you fly away .....?

_____________________


She's even more mysterious asleep
What is she dreaming about?
I dreamt she left the bed and packed her stuff
Took an aeroplane out
And there between the lines she wrote 
To say why she was going
Was every card held to my chest
How could these have been showing?

If you're in my head is the mystery dead
What you doing behind the eyeballs?
I was running down to the underground
Were you pursuing?
Are you a fly on the wall?
How was every stray emotion scratched onto my forehead
For your reading?

Seemed liked a pretty good idea at the time
To get beneath the skin
If I could be a fly on the wall in your mind
I'd probably do myself in
We set up in business, contributed one heart each
I dreamt that yours was creeping slowly
Out of reach

If you're rattling round, what do you think you've found? 
You don't belong here
We don't get to know it all
Tell me how can I, just smile and lie like nothing's wrong here?
Are you a fly on the wall?
How was every stray emotion scratched out on my forehead
For your reading?

And if you're in my head is the mystery dead
What you doing?
You got no place here at all
I was running down to the underground
Were you pursuing?
Are you a fly on the wall?
How was every stray emotion scratched onto my forehead
For your reading? 

Fly - itneverhappened and Broker Jonathan

Spent some time doing some repairs this evening. Decided I couldn't live with the Eppy Les Paul which doesn't play in tune so tried a different guitar, brought some more variation to the guitar track and tinkered with some vocals and harmonica. A bit happier with this version. Hope you agree! 

One of my favourite Neil Young songs ... it's from the On The Beach album, where some of his sparkliest gems reside. There may be one or two tuning issues, but as other NY coverers have mentioned, that's practically obligatory when covering Neil.
Seriously, though, trying to get a listenable version of this made me appreciate anew just how wonderful his lo-fi recording of it is.

Motion Pictures (Neil Young cover)

Well my shoulder got better and I was able to pick up the guitar today so I opened up this project, tried to sort some things out and I'm now replacing the file here. Some new guitar, vox, percussion, couple of new bars added, small lyrical change. Same song fundamentally - I wouldn't know how to go big production on this one - but if you liked the song, this version's maybe a bit cleaner and, er, sorted. My name's broker jonathan and I approved this advert ;-)    16/9/2012


this is a new song which still needs work - very rudimentary recording, dodgy guitar etc etc ...but I can hardly pick the thing up at the moment because something which feels crucial to the smooth operation of my right shoulder has popped and even lifting this glass of red is sore ... so this is a holding version while I figure out how to take this fuzzy project forward. been away for a little while. coming back! ;-)

Open D tuning

Fuzzy People

Climbing up the stairs from the underground
One day ago our love affair derailed
High fliers pushing past me
I can see the wind
Blowing in their jacket tails
 
Dodging the vendors on the busy street
But I still hear the shaking collection tins
Evangeliser wants to save me
Says he was lost
He thinks somebody spoke to him
 
Fuzzy people in the city
You picked the wrong day to want something
Fuzzy people in the city
See I’ve already given away everything
 
Feeling for grief over a different love
Familiar tears to water down the pain
Think I’d know her if I saw her
But she’s hiding
In the mirrored rooms of the brain
 
Fuzzy people from the olden days
Where are you now, what were your names?
Fuzzy people from my olden days
Let me back in your movie for a couple of frames
 
Crying in the gaze of eyes I hardly know
She says come on, cry into some wine
She says she's got a bottle waiting
It’s up the stairs
She got a fuzzy face just like mine
 
Fuzzy people in the aftermath
I said it’s meaningless, she said that’s fine
Fuzzy people in the aftermath
I’m on the stairs, it's breaking my poor heart to climb


Fuzzy People

This is track seven on my album Time On My Own, available at http://brokerjonathan.bandcamp.com/

additional vocals by http://soundcloud.com/kimguy 

mastering by Jon Huxtable of http://soundcloud.com/smallfishrecordings 


Barbara

I don't mean to be a drag about my illness
Not the rowing boat motion, it's the water's stillness
Somewhere on the bottom I thought I saw a sacrificial lamb              
I don't have a clue why I'm still afraid of you
But I am

Careful up ahead, that's a water feature
If you start drowning on me, I'll never reach you
And I know if I did, you'd only haul me overboard too
I don't know why I distrust you so
But I do

Barbara, why am I here with you?
Barbara, it was only meant to be a beer with you

I should've walked away in Trafalgar Square
You were feeding the pigeons, I was standing there
From the corner of my eye I thought I saw a lion statue move
And I don't know what talking to ghosts 
Is meant to prove

Barbara, are you mad with me?
Barbara, after all the fun you've had with me

Let's go catch a ride to the Latin Quarter
Or the Giant's Causeway, whatever's shorter
We'll both stand in line and whoever blinks first gets the bill
I don't know how you'll destroy me now
But you will

Barbara, even now you're a mystery
Barbara, why do you want to do all this to me?

Barbara (with Kim Guy)

This is just another curio while I try to remember what kind of music it is I do.

Warm Body, Cold Heart

Warm bodied woman
Where did you get such a cold heart?

I think you know I crave your soft caress
But I'm still afraid of all the other stuff I guess
Why don't you just shut up and love me?
Anyone can see I'm doing my best

Warm bodied woman
Where did you get such a cold heart?
Wrong headed lover
Why do you never do your loving smart?

I wanna lay my head right next to it
But you'd only think me inadequate
Why don't you just pipe down and hold me?
Why're we always drowning in bullshit?

Warm bodied woman
Where did you get such a cold heart?
Wrong headed lover
Why do you never do your loving smart?


Warm Body, Cold Heart

This is a song about a Scottish painter:  his life story, or a version of it at least. Many thanks to https://soundcloud.com/jennifer-young-75, as always these days, for the sonic honey and smiles and lots of other stuff.


Genevieve (and a Lit Cigarette)

One day you wake up, can't see past the wallpaper
You hate your whole life furthermore
Climb inside a painting, it's been a blast, see you later
Into the picture and out the door

Old lady's home, looks for her co-dweller, there's no sign
Calls her best friend Jen, says you've gone
Your finger's at your lips, you say don't tell her. I need time
To paint Genevieve with her stockings on

Genevieve in oil at the railway station
Come up and light her cigarette
Genevieve in oil looks like she’s onto something
Something nobody told you yet
Genevieve
And a lit cigarette

You always wondered how it would be to pay for action
You pay your money and you feast your eyes
Bring along a picture for them to see, new transaction
Sleep with whoever you immortalise

You landed on your feet Jack, what a player, I'm not joking
They're queuing in the hall like you won't believe
You ask their names, but they don't care, whatever you're smoking
You say I think I'll call you Genevieve

Genevieve in oil ….

Years go by you've painted them all - made your millions
But there’s no ivory tower for you
Museum guy won’t take your calls, you’re just a civilian
If you wanna paint you’re welcome to 

One day you wake up and wonder, why am I lonely?
Where's my companion, when did she leave?
What did I file that old picture under? 
Oh, if only you would
Climb out of the canvas, Genevieve

Genevieve in oil ...

Genevieve (and a Lit Cigarette)

This, I fear, is a substantially true story about one of my musical heroes.

A Room, Please

A room, please, in this hotel
But do not disturb my hell
I’ll settle up in advance if it’s a problem

How much for a six month stay?
But tell housekeeping to stay away
I can manage my own bedclothes and breakfast

Need a room with walls yay wide
And a heavy duty lock on the inside
I need a space to be crazy about
To hold me in and everyone out
Looking for a room
Looking for a room

You’ll hardly know I’m here
I’ll surface when the coast is clear
Sneak to the shop on the corner, sneak back again

But if your night man should see me
In a state of insobriety
I’ll try hard to behave, I know folks are sleeping

Need a room like a need a barricade
From the madding crowd from the mess I made
I need a space with a window and blind
Going to keep it down nearly all of the time
Looking for a room
Looking for a room
Looking for a room
Looking for a room

A Room, Please

This is possibly my fourth or fifth recording of this song. I wrote it 10 or 12 years ago after a line in a book about Neil Young made me laugh out loud. Neil was planning on returning to country music for an album or two and his bass player was frustrated because he felt this meant he'd be relegated to playing eat-shit boom boom bass lines. Impatience with this kind of music was the reason he had left Nashville, he said. Well, this song isn't really about bass lines or about dissing country music, which I love dearly. But it did seem to me there should be a song called The Reason I Left Nashville. This is the latest - and in all likelihood not the last - attempt to do the title justice ...


The Reason I Left Nashville

They made me play that eat-shit ‘boom’ bass
Flicked their peanuts into my face
I thought the music was kinda thin
But some of them  people had paid to get in
I think the audience is probably drinking still
That's the reason I left Nashville

Yeah and they wear those alligator boots
Diamonds sewn into their suits
Every other store is selling steel guitars
Why does everybody got to be a country star?
Yeah but they don't want to foot the bill
That's the reason I left Nashville

It's rock n roll from here on in
That's the way it’ll have to be
I never played my own country song
I blew right out of Tennessee

Truth is I guess I've lost my hunger
Should've been there 10 years younger
I was kinda busy, up to no good
To give my song verisimilitude
They wouldn't give me 10 lousy minutes to fill
That's the reason I left Nashville

The Reason I Left Nashville

My debut album, Time On My Own, is now available on bandcamp. You can find it at http://brokerjonathan.bandcamp.com There's a review of it here: 
http://www.folkwords.com/reviewarchive_90495.html
Long ago I wrote some songs which were rubbish so I tried some more. They were not much better so I kept at it. No one asked me to do this. The world was not short of good songs. It had shitloads already. It was only short of good songs by me. Other people didn't seem to mind about this in the slightest, but I found it bothered me, so I was trying to do something about it. I guess I still am. This page is where some of the more recent attempts to rectify an intolerable situation appear.

Popular tracks by Broker Jonathan