Trying again to get "Boardtown Prophets" up to radio volume. I think, this time, that I can compete in the loudness wars.

Song entirely recorded, mixed, and mastered in the free program "Garage Band" using a decent real instruments, a crappy drumset, and a decent microphone.

Lyrics:

Boardtown Prophets 

All the boardtown prophets live up here 
and they don’t know each other 
don’t know each other 

All the board town prophets live upstairs 
and they come down for supper 
they don’t earn their supper 

And we wait for the day 
When they give back all the bread 
And we wait for the sound 
Of the peal of the bells for the dead 


All the boardtown prophets give us stares 
when we turned off the spigot 
turned off the spigot 

And all the boardtown prophets went away 
and nobody missed them 
nobody kissed them 

And we wait for the day 
When we take back all the bread 
And wait for the sound 
Of the wails of the crowd for our head 

I’m a boardtown prophet and I live up here 
You pay for my supper 
Pay for my supper 

And when the writing appears on the wall 
I’ll kneel before you 
I’ll kneel before you 

And I’ll bear my neck 
And unfold my hands 
And if you give a nod 
I will work all your lands

Boardtown Prophets

Dreamed this one up while driving through the Mississippi Delta. Recorded the whole thing at home.

Highway 49

Simple song, recorded at home. All words and music by Doc Barlow, Jonathan Barlow.

Hurt a Lot

Recorded in my home studio right next to a very busy road.

The Cars in the Road

Words and Music by Doc Barlow (Jonathan Barlow).

Recorded at home in Starkville, Mississippi.

Lyrics:

Don’t know how you stayed so tough 
Don’t know when you got so sane 
If I were you, I would do almost anything 
To get that jock out of my brain 
Don’t know if you know my name 
Don’t know if you’ll ever be mine 
I have to think that your wink means 
Nice guys get the girl, some of the time 
CHORUS 
Take a Chance on a Bookish Southern Man 
He reads Faulkner and says “please” and “yes, ma'am” 
Take a ride with a Bookish Southern Man 
You’ll never touch a door handle again. 
A Seersucker Suit 
and a Pair of White Shoes 
Civility is his 
Core identity 
I don’t know if you ever been kissed 
On the square in Oxford Miss 
I’ll take you there in the fall 
When the air smells like burning leaves 
and college football 
We’ll take a pilgrimage to Rowan Oak 
We’ll go to Sardis Lake and rent a boat 
After that I will give you a come hither look 
at a table in the back of Square Books 
CHORUS 
Take a Chance on a Bookish Southern Man 
He reads Welty and eats okra and ham 
Go for a walk with a Bookish Southern Man 
You’ll never have to touch a doorknob again. 
Grew up with the blues 
and John Kennedy Toole 
he knows how to please 
and feels noblesse oblige 
Grew up with the blues 
and wears white suede shoes

Bookish Southern Man

All words and music by Doc Barlow (Jonathan Barlow). Recorded in my utility room in Starkville, MS.  This is my first attempt to record brushes on a snare.

You're the Sanest Girl I Know, So Why You So Crazy About Me?

I make music at home by a noisy street with an acoustic guitar, telecaster, p-bass, a decent microphone, and a Mac. I live in Starkville, MS (USA).

Jon Barlow (Doc Barlow)

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