Let’s Drive.

I had 60’s garage rock on the brain when I pulled some lyrics outta my beehive and made this semi-listenable track.

Stupid For You

Go Easy

Based on an old wooden create of “Father John’s Medicine” I found in the barn hay mound.     ,,and the parallels of past and present...     That’s grandpa (Paul Cleemput) in the picture, to the right.

Father John’s Medicine

Forget The Rest

This is still John Prine’s song, called “Paradise”.   I changed the lyrics, and a few other things..   I tried to stay true to Prine’s theme of  “,,and they wrote it all down as the progress of man”..   The plight of Putnam County county is increased flooding in old down towns (built around the Blanched River);   It’s an observation of cause and effect, corn rather than coal, and nothing more.    The revised lyrics are based off of a conversation with my dad, and his take on why Putnam county floods more often..   I’d like to think John Prine wouldn’t have minded this redo,  and my father too.

Paradise   (Blanchard River Tribute)

Got To Beleave In You

I made this radio ad for my brother’s bar.   It includes everything I could say about that place in a 60 second commercial format (while still being listenable, I think).   After a few weeks of writing, recording and editing I sent the audio file to Jeff.   He never replied back and never used the song.   Aside from making this to help out, I could've been tying to gain respect of someone incapable of giving it (I’m now reminded of what I once knew, and why I left)..   Within a few months “Rona“ drove the final nail into the struggling DeVine Wine Bar's coffin, she didn’t have to try real hard.    Thinking about this reminds me of an old Roger Miller song called “Where have all the average people gone“, that song’s worth listening to if you haven’t heard it.

DeVine Wine Bar

Since moving back,  my o’l buddy Tim suggested that I play some Bro Country,,,   so that I “can get gigs round here”.    I wrote a song instead, and sent it to him.   I meant to record this as full-on “Bro Country”,  but couldn’t stand listening to that shit long enough to mimic the melodies (and, I don’t have “AutoTune”).    Instead,  I cranked the mic pre, and chicken picked a riff into an amp running hot.    It’s based on a drunken anthem from years ago, some minor criminal charges, and terrible Pop Country cliches:

LET’S BRAKE SOME SHIT!!   

Spent the day,             work’n on the home
That old front door’s,  gotten tired and worn
Bought one on sale,     bout an inch too wide. 
36” door,                       rough frame 35
Ain’t nuttin Honey,        my sledge can’t fix.
Girl grab that thang,    Let’s Brake Some Shit!

(( You gotta use a little muscle, When the shoe don’t fit
Rental car rode hard,         an put away wet.
When going gets tough,    ya take what you can get.
We gettin Stupid tonight,   Let’s Brake Some Shit! ))

Me and the boys,   in my crew cab truck
Bottle of Jack,      an girls on the lap.
Luke Bryan,           play’n on the radio.
Need a beer here man,  high five bro!
Make a little more room, Tim’s girl’s gotta fit. 
Gonna tear it up right ya’ll,       Let’s Brake Some Shit!
 
(( Chorus))

Pulled up to da club,       bout half past 9
Old man on stage,      singing  “Walk The Line”
So we cranked Aldean,    loud as it could go
An broke that  JukeBox, volume control.
Girls shak’n that thang,  like a daisy duke party
Singing tailgate songs,    an shootin Bacardi
Old man from the band,  said “y’all got to go”
So Tim swung a bottle,   an laid him on the floor.
(Chorus)
(( You gotta use a little muscle, When the shoe don’t fit
Rental car rode hard,       an put away wet.
When the beer’s bout done, but ya don’t wanna quit.
Tear that shit up!        LET'S BRAKE SOME SHIT!!!))

Now Tim’s do’n time,    in the county jail
Today  I got a letter,    in the U.S. Mail
Sayin “help me please,  I need to get out”
Cell mate say,  he gotta real purdy mouth.
“He’s built like a house,     made out a brick
look’n like he’s ready to,  BRAKE SOME SHIT!”
   (Chorus)
You gotta use a little muscle, When the shoe don’t fit
Rental car drove hard,        an put away wet.
When the go’n gets tough,  ya take what you git.
Girl,       you know,          He gonna Brake Some Shit!

Dear Bro Ham,
You’re like a gangsta now,     just do yer time
Lil Wayne went to jail,   an he turned out fine.
P.S.    I paid your tab,         so don’t forget

Greg Cleemput

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