recorded in the month of october after midnight. the bulk of the song was originally extracted from my brain pool a few minutes before spontaneously diving into the performance you hear. still, i felt it was appropriate to slip in some beatles there at the end and speak through them. thank you john.

anti-mumble text:
"brothers and sisters, lend me your ears
let me tell you something you might like to hear
i wanna love you all, one and all
one by one, yet all at once
love you all, i hope you love one another too

mothers and fathers, tell us a tale
a tale to entice our little children's hearts
i wanna listen to you, one and all
one by one, and all at once
wanna get together, would you wanna get together with me?

lonesome ones, are you making love?
are the rest of you as lonely as you thought you was
i wanna get to know you, one and all
one by one, and all at once
wanna get to know you, so you might get to know me as well

lovers and liars, let's get together
cowards and fighters, and all of you others
i wanna get together with you, one and all
one by one, and all at once
wanna get together, can we make it work?

	i'm calling you out, so will you join me now
	i'm calling you out from this maddening crowd
	i'm calling you out in the only way i know
	if we could help each other, then make a sound
	i'm calling you out, so don't you let me down"

Callin' you out (Don't let me down)

Recorded in the month of October after midnight. If you don't know about Joanna Newsom - poet, harpist, elfin singer extraodinaire -, go check her out. This one's from her 'The Milk-Eyed Mender'. She used to go out with Devendra Banhart and if you don't know HIM by now, it's never too late to be saved. I'm not sure how to begin telling you how deeply this song speaks to me, so I recommend you simply listen to it.

Anti-mumble text:

"This place is damp and ghostly, I am already gone
And the halls were lined with the disembodied
And the dustly wings which fell from flesh, gasplessly

And I go where the trees go
And I walk from a higher education
For now and for hire

It beats me but I do not know
And it beats me but I do not know
It beats me but I do not know
I do not know

Palaces and stormclouds
And the rought, straggly sage, and the smoke
And the way it will all come together
In quietness and in time
And you laws of property
oh you free economy
And you unending afterthoughts
You could've told me before

Never get so attached to a poem
You forget truth that lacks lyricism
And never draw so close to the heat
That you forget that you must eat"


En Gallop (J. Newsom)

Recorded in the month of August in my garden at dawn, because that was the only time the birds were available to record with me. Furry Lewis is always in the back of my mind these days. An underground blues street performer until he was fortunately "rediscovered" in the 60's, he wrote and recorded this number in 1928 and it seemed to predict Nick Drake with its dark heavy chords, but insists on tongue-in-cheek humor. There was a verse I left out at the very end, but I included the words here because I'm pretty sure that verse inspired a hell of a lot of blues musicians over the course of the 20th century, eventually leading to Jim Morrison using it as the basis for 'Been Down So Long' on the Doors' album, L.A. Woman. Check out the song 'Mistreatin' Mama Blues' for his (i.m.o) most powerful song.

Anti-mumble text:

All the women in Missouri : would not let me be
Had to move on back : to Memphis, Tennessee

If the river was whiskey : baby and I was a duck
I'd swim to the bottom : I'd never come up

If you follow me baby : I will turn your money green
I will make you more money : than mister Rockerfeller ever seen

The woman I hate : I see her every day
But the woman I love : she's so far away

What's the need of me begging : what's the need of me crying
Woman I love : she don't pay me no mind

Don't you gimme much trouble : I'm troubled all the time
I been troubled so long : i think trouble don't worry my mind

I been down so long : it seem like up to me
Woman I love : she done quit poor me

I will turn your money green (F. Lewis)

Recorded in the month of August in my garden at dawn. The birds helped me sing this song. I originally wrote it in May on the way to Toronto in a bus that I've referred to in other songs as a train. It is my personal experience that insomnia spits out interesting songs. The form of the song is a typical jump blues but unlike most blues, every line in there is original literature. 

Anti-mumble text:

"the sandman caught me dozing
he worked his thing on me
that voodoo got me snoozing
now my bad dreams won't let me be
	
	well, did you ever wake up
	with a thousand troubles on your mind
	got you worried so bad
	you got the sandman's blues like mine

well early in the morning
before the break of day
you're shakin' like a jitterbug
why o' why, you cannot say

momma let me tell you
before that thunder rolls
them bad dreams bring bad weather
and it's gonna get cold

i rolled and i tumbled
the whole night through
the thing that kept me from sleeping
were longing thoughts of you

the bullfrog croaks
the blackbird crows
but the sandman's so quiet
layin' in the shadows

let me tell you one more
thing before i go
you won't be hiding secrets
when the sandman's at your door"


Sandman blues

Recorded in the month of May at dawn in the presence of Mr. S. F. Pilch and his beautiful fragile morning voice. 'Nuff said.

Anti-mumble text:

"   "There must be some kind of way out of here," 
Said the joker to the thief, 
"There's too much confusion, 
I can't get no relief. 
Businessman they drink my wine, 
Plowman dig my earth 
None will level on the line, nobody offered his word" 
 
"No reason to get excited," 
The thief, he kindly spoke 
"There are many here among us 
Who feel that life is but a joke 
But you and I, we've been through that 
And this is not our fate 
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late" 

All along the watchtower 
Princes kept the view 
While all the women came and went 
Barefoot servants, too 
Outside in the cold distance 
A wildcat did growl 
Two riders were approaching 
And the wind began to howl   "





P.S.: There is indeed a reason as to why I ad-libbed a familiar sounding chord melody at the very end of the recording: that's because Led Zeppelin is subconsciously and consciously integrated into my brain. I hope you enjoyed it.

All along the watchtower (B. Dylan)

Anti-mumble text:

"i been up all night, shot down at dawn
i somehow kept my lamp turned on
but i can't stop laughing to myself
and i must keep cool and calm
i must keep cool and calm

i'm stoned at dawn, i'll be drunk at dusk
i hope i die before i rust
i hope that sleep will bring me dreams
or turn me into dust
or else turn me into dust

and if at last that sleep won't come
i hope the moon will tell the sun
that frisco lee's got the white light blues
and he hasn't got a clue
exactly what to do

	up all night 
	now i'm beginning to see the light
	some wine in the mornin', breakfast at night
	now i see the light"

Up all night

Recorded in the month of August at dawn. This melancholy ballad was written by Mr. S. F. Pilch and interpreted by myself. 

Anti-mumble text:

"but then i started growing up
and he didnt seem so tall
id forgotten all those stories
never answered when hed call
but he always told me, son
if you aint made it home by dawn
when you finally make it to the door
ill leave the porch light on

that light would always tell me
dont you ever feel alone
cause just beyond these wooden doors
theres lovin in this home
no matter what youve done
or where you been so long
when you see that porchlight shinnin
youll know where you belong

as the years wore on
we butt heads more and more
cussing and fightin
and the slammin of the door
but whenever id pull in at night
with the morning on its way
id find them waiting up for me
to see i was okay
then mom would get to hollerin
bout what the neighbors think
but when shed turn her back on us
my dad would give a wink

then i grew up and moved away
with a woman of my own
the day i left my daddy said
son its still your home
and no matter where you wander to 
no matter if we fight
when you get here youll always see
that shinin ol porch light

many years would pass between
and we never spoke or wrote
id call him on his birthday
or send a card or note
till one day the call came in
mom crying on the line
she asked me to come home quick
my dad was sick and dyin

he didnt have much time left 
by the time i reached his side
but i had to see him one more time
before my daddy died
lying there in his patient gown
he wasnt such a giant then
and his eyes were looking down
when i walked on in
i saw him flash me that old grin
but i could see the fear in his eyes

when everyone had left the room
leaving only me and him
i tried to come up with the words
but i couldnt think of them
so when i leaned close
to finally let him go 
i thought of one thing 
he told me long ago 
and i said...

that light will always tell you
dont you ever feel alone
cause just beyond those pearly gates
theres lovin in that home
and no matter what youve done
or where you been so long
when you see that porchlight shinin'
youll know where you belong"

Porchlight

Recorded in the month of October at dawn in a smokey apartment living room. It was written on a couple of months earlier about my dear friend Mr. S. F. Pilch, who can channel ballads out of his soul like none other. He's familiarized me with a vast repertoire of country songs and spirit, so I payed my tribute to him instinctually. Feel free to play along at home.

Anti-mumble text and tabs:

"C
All night long, until the dawn
	C
	from a spool of yarn you spun sad songs
		    F
		  tales of broken hearts and lovers past
F
Some were given to you, or had been
	F
	waiting for you, while others had come and
		Cdim
		gone away just a little too fast
C
On and on, they rolled along, kinda
	C7
	wrote themselves and before long, you were
		F
		singin' for the world, the lovers and losers
		Fm
		songs for us all, the abused and abusers, 
C		                Dm		     G
like memories that make you remi-nisce
F
They have cast a 
	F
	spell on me, or maybe i've been
		F	                  G7		       [C  C7       F  Fm]       [C  C7       Dm --------------G]     
		smoking            too much         green     green    grass


			CHORUS
F				                                C                      C7
I might be stoned on country songs, and be that as it may
F								          C
I like Bobby Dylan, and Kristofferson these days
        C			       C7
And i've known you for a long, long time, 
                  F                                         C7
	there's so many great things left to do
	    G7	      G		                    G7            G	          
Cause I'm Bo Diddley, buddy, you're all frisky, 
G7	       	      G                            G7        G
we got plenty of whiskey, man, it ain't no pity
          F       	    D7               C      C7
	we're gonna have us a ball
	         F                             D7    G                 C
	and we're     gonna      have us     a       ball


	C
And so you told of the young and old
	     C
	of those somehow both weak and bold
		    F
		of those who were left with or without
	F
And whether you thought to shout or not, and
	F
	whether to sing or talk, the sun
		Cdim
		never caught you snoring but once
C
Oh! the whole world is your oyster, sir,
	        C7
	and life is for the living, we're so 
		F
		alive, that we can hardly speak
		      Fm
		the words escape me, though it seems that
         C		         	  Dm		     G
your songs somehow spill out like ink

F
They have cast a 
	F
	spell on me, or maybe i've been
		F	                  G7		        [C  C7       F  Fm]       [C  C7       Dm   G]        
		smoking            too much         grass"

Stoned on country

Recorded in the month of October during a solitary overnight session. It was written on a bus that took us to Toronto (referred to herein as a train) to take us to go see Radiohead. Unfortunately, the show got cancelled at the very last minute due to the titanesque stage collapsing. Insomnia brings up some interesting honest things in a person's writing. 

Anti-mumble text:

"the train that i ride on is sixteen cigarettes long 
oh the train that i ride on is sixteen cigarettes long 
five cups of coffee, no smoking allowed 
it's six in the morning, i'm starin' at clouds 
and i'm gonna write a travelin' song 
yo-de-lei-hee, yo-de-lei, all day long

honey, you got wthe tea, i brought a matchbox for your clothes 
bring the tea, i won't forget that matchbox for your clothes 
we'll never need to worry 'bout what to do 
at least we'll always have tea for two 
that's how we'll write a comforting song 
yo-de-lei-hee, yo-de-lei-hoo, all the time

rollin' through Ontario, gonna beat the rising sun 
westward to Toronto, might just beat that rising sun 
when the day dies down, can't take no more 
will you make me a pallet on your floor? 
so i can write a settlin' song 
yo-de-lei-hee, yo-de-lei, aww! for sure

well so long baby blue skies, goodbye morning sun 
so long baby blue skies, i said goodbye morning sun 
still shook up from the night before 
i prayed for sunshine in my back door 
so that i could write my way out of this mess 
yo-de-lei-hee, yo-de-lei-hee, lawd above"

Frisco Lee's Brain Puppet

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