Information/Write-up
Terry Tufts gives us a whole lot of reasons to enjoy listening to him in his Down the Eighth and Gone album. He brings it all to your stereo speakers; writing, singing, and playing (a ton of instruments), as well as giftedly producing this Blue Northern gem. (If I ever were to wake up with songwriting talent, the Terry Tufts/Ken Freisen tandem would be on my short list of producers). Even the cover catches your eye on the way to enjoying the disc contents; a refreshing Canadian breeze heading up the road to Clayton Lake.
Ken Post wheels "Flag Station Fireball" along at a great clip with his rolling drums; setting your feet atapping. Terry wastes no time in showing his versatility, playing fast and crisp dobro, acoustic guitar, and banjo to move you out of your chair. Don Reed's fiddle runs are perfectly placed around the vocals and stand alone as one of the many featured instruments. The more you listen, the more you notice, like Steve O'Connor's complementing piano. It's fitting that the song that sets the album off to a stirring start is co-written by co-producer Ken Friesen. The instrumentation could also stand alone on "Pledge", a Celtic-like 90 seconds with the resounding keyboard bass enveloping the gripping penny-whistle and interlocking piano and electric guitar.
Lisa Taylor and Terry hit their dancing and lyric stride together with the loveful "Perish the Thought" . Many a dance line will be filled with couples smiling into each other's eyes to the reassuring words of commitment. Terry is a one-man chorus to the melody that features the strong and steady drumwork of Ken Post again.
In case you were about to sit back down, get right back out on the floor to 'shake a leg' (not to mention shoulders) to the delightful "Tearin' up the Tundra" 'on a Saturday night'. You get a little taste of Mamou, Louisiana, with the cajun-like combo of accordian and fiddle sent our way by Bob Stagg and Don Reed respectively. Terry throws in a nice saddlebacking dobro and jaws harp-like guitar chop with good effect. Don Reed's stirringly-strainful violin sets the emotional tone to "Harder than Diamonds to Hold". Listen close to the quarter and half-note bass measures that quietly hold together the dobro and piano that lead you into the choruses (and then go back to the first song and turn up the bass to rehear Andrew Afflect's quiet contributions to the production). If you missed the mandolin, hit the replay button before continuing.
For a little funky struttin', "Free Life" twirls piano and electric guitar spins over and through a B3-sounding organ backdrop. Picture a kind of a Lowell George/James Taylor bass-player-stage-walker, with Bill Rowatt's trumpet tossing in a taste of Memphis and Oakland horns for good measure. Terry show's his wise and thankful self with his "Hello Lisa". He hits just the right notes of gratefulness of love that's "still growing each morning of my life". As he does exquisitely throughout the album, Ken Post has perfect touch in pacing the song with an uncanny knack for knock. (Sorry, I couldn't keep myself from using that phrase). Not to be missed is the finishing acoustic guitar to set the song down.
"Carmanah" is a serious song of concern for losing nature. Co-writer Steve O'Connor takes you into the wilderness with his soft piano notes, while Terry adds a full-toned eagle-soaring electric guitar background. Then it's back onto the dance floor again with "It Don't Matter to Me". It's time to get out and find what you're looking for in this two-stepping song with Ken Kanwisher's understated leading bass and a more-than-meets-the-ear mix of dobro, acoustic and electric guitars, and piano.
Stand up straight for the put-a-smile-on-your-face "Posture". Bob Stagg's accordian teams well with Terry's multiple vocals. Boogie along with piano and bass to this song that I can't wait to watch Terry and band play with verve and joy on stage. The list of people that "I Got to Tell You a Story" is 'for' (Frank Zappa, Jim Morrison, Lou Reed, Hank Williams, Christopher Lloyd and Tim Tufts, Love Chrome) gives as good a preview as any description I could come up with of this almost album-ending tale with many turns.
You would have to be in a mighty sour mood not to bounce around in enjoyment to Terry Tufts' "Down the Eighth and Gone". The multi-instrument capable performer puts great spirit into this talent-laden recording. I look forward to listening to other recordings featuring his playing, hearing him live at festivals and arenas, and checking out other Blue Northern albums produced by Terry and Ken Freisen..
-Terry Eagan
Recorded in 1995 at Lakeside Studio in Clayton, Ontario
with Ken Friesen, Bill Stunt and Marc Pariseau.
Flag Station Fireball
“My brother Tim and my sister-in-law Francie have a kennel and game farm in Orono, Ontario, and they raise hunting dogs and game birds. My family has always been made up of hunters and I still get a great deal of pleasure out of rambling around in the brush whether I’m successful or not. Nine times out of ten, the bird wins. Rambling around in the brush is not so enjoyable, however, if you spend more time looking for the damned dog than you do bustin’ woodcock.”
My brother owned a bird dog near the end of the Carscaden
Where the eighth concession runs down through the hills
And when the dog would get the notion it was time to hit the highway
It quickly turned into a test of wills.
Young Zeke would hit the fence line then move to the horizon
And catch a whiff of what was lyin’ beyond.
My brother’d yell his name. The bird dog made his answer plain.
The next we knew, he’s down the eighth and gone.
Chorus
Get up and grab a handle ‘n get ready to get gone.
Best hit the trail before the scent grows cold.
Unleashed once more. Light speed, full bore,
Roarin’ down the Flag Station Road.
Some days I’ll look around and see
All kinds of people just like me
Who figure they’ve got both feet on the ground.
Their looks are long and lean and
You’ll know ‘em when you see ‘em
By the way they hang their heads and scuffle ‘round:
A vacant empty stare just like a deer caught in the headlights
Without a clue’s to where the light comes from.
It hits ‘em like a train: one day the answer’s pure and
Just like Zeke, they’re down the eighth and gone.
Chorus
Get up and grab a handle ‘n get ready to get gone.
Best hit the trail before the scent grows cold.
Unleashed once more. Light speed, full bore,
Roarin’ down the Flag Station Road.
Oh once I had a spirit and a spark you couldn’t touch
N’ I swore money’d never make me into a slave.
Now I lead a life without a hole to go to hell for
And a debt-load that I’ll carry to my grave.
Some days I’ll make the window and I’ll look to the horizon
And I’ll wonder whether any dreams came true
But if I ever need a smile, I’ll just think about the afternoon
The Flag Station Fireball roared through.
Repeat Chorus x 2
W.T. Tufts & Ken Friesen
SOCAN
Andrew Affleck: bass
Steve O'Connor: piano
Ken Post: drums
Don Reed: fiddle
Terry Tufts: vocals, guitars, mandolin, banjo, dobro
================================================================
Little Miss Demeanor
“ This went on a compilation CD put out by Hillcrest and did pretty well in Europe, as I understand. Another stab at the country charts. It hasn’t done anything in Canada... yet.”
Hey Junior, take warnin’
You better slow down ‘fore the notion starts to formin’.
Who you think you’re foolin’?
Hey don’t go near her ‘less you’ve had a lot of schoolin’.
I know you’re hangin’ ‘round because you musta heard the story
‘Bout a girl this side of town who’s got the power and the glory.
Hey don’t you worry son, you’ll know her when you see her.
The boys all think she’s deadly, we all call her Miss Demeanor.
Chorus
Little Miss demeanor, little sugar, little spice.
A little bit of naughty and a whole lotta nice.
Oh what the boys would give for just a little if they could
“Cause when she’s good she’s dangerous
And when she’s bad, she’s really, really good.
Little Miss Demeanor.
Big questions, small wonder.
You plain don’t understand the spell she got you under.
I know son, I been there
You better just beware before you start your fun there.
Her daddy tried to tell me, tore a strip right off my hide.
He never did get through to me no matter how he tried.
He said “She’ll leave you bleedin’, son. You won’t know your own name.
She learned it from her mama. Her mamma was the same.”
Chorus
Little Miss Demeanor, little sugar, little spice.
A little bit of naughty and a whole lotta nice.
W.T. Tufts
SOCAN
Andrew Affleck: bass
Steve O’Connor: keys
Jon Park-Wheeler: acoustic and electric guitars
Ken Post: drums
Terry Tufts: vocals, slide strat.
================================================================
Pledge
“I wanted to do another segue-type thing into the next song like I did with Burlington Bay/Niagara. That combination got me twice the royalties every time it played. This combination came in at around 6:00 minutes and never got played.”
You are as a bolt of cloth so warm,
Soft to the touch upon my arm.
Of clever design and cunning weave.
Truly I’ll have you on my sleeve.
A fabric so fine and full of charm,
Offering shelter from the storm.
A treasure so true of priceless worth.
If I could but wear you for my shirt.
W.T. Tufts
SOCAN
Andrew Affleck: bass
Steve O’Connor: keys
Terry Tufts: vocals, penny whistle, bouzouki, tabla, maraccas, electric guitar
For Lisa Taylor
================================================================
Perish The Thought
“My then partner, Lisa Taylor, and I were driving along near the Department of Agriculture property near Ottawa in the middle of a magnificent snow squall when suddenly the sky opened up for about 100 yards, like we found the eye of the system. She looked up at a brilliantly blue sky above us and said ‘Now there’s a summer-blue sky for ya’ or words to that effect. Hence the writting credit. I was pretty sweet on her so I wrote her a tune.”
If you ever feel you’re losin’ touch
Or taken for granted far too much
If you ever wonder if I’ll be leavin’ you behind
You never need worry, I couldn’t leave you if I tried.
Chorus
Perish the thought
Of me ever movin’ on without offerin’ you a ride,
Of me ever walkin’ away without you walkin’ at my side,
Of me losin’ sight of you in the wink of a rovin’ eye,
Perish the thought of me ever sayin’ to you goodbye.
We been walkin’ up and down a fence line
For a long, long time.
The chance we’d never climb together someday
Never crossed my mind.
Oh once I just hid in the clouds
When the weather
was cold and grey
Then you rolled through so high and wide
Like a Summer blue sky on a winter day.
Chorus
Perish the thought
Of me ever movin’ on without offerin’ you a ride,
Of me ever walkin’ away without you walkin’ at my side,
Of me losin’ sight of you in the wink of a rovin’ eye,
Perish the thought of me ever sayin’ to you goodbye.
Here is the one rule of thumb
That by now you should understand:
No matter come hell or high water,
It’ll be you and me ‘til the very end.
Chorus
Perish the thought
Of me ever movin’ on without offerin’ you a ride,
Of me ever walkin’ away without you walkin’ at my side,
Of me losin’ sight of you in the wink of a rovin’ eye,
Perish the thought of me ever sayin’ to you goodbye.
W.T. Tufts & Lisa Taylor
SOCAN
Andrew Affleck: bass
Steve O’Connor: keys
Ken Post: drums
Terry Tufts: vocals, electric and acoustic guitars
For Lisa Taylor.
================================================================
Tearin’ Up The Tundra
“I went to the Arctic for the first time in 1989 to play guitar for an artist named Catherine Arsenault. It is by far and away my most favourite place on the face of the Earth. We played ‘The Zoo’ in the Frobisher Inn and had a time and a half.”
Oh I have to tell you true that the folks up here are few
That are brave enough to stay and make a stand.
And when the times are slow oh brother don’t you know
It’s enough to make you chuck it and go back out on the land.
But when the word goes through the the region
‘Bout a dance down at the legion,
The news goes up the trap line at the speed of light
Shake a leg and comb your hair. Ev’rybody will be there
Tearin’ up the tundra on a Saturday night.
Chorus
The steppers and the kickers come from miles all around
From ev’ry little hamlet in the region up and down,
Dancin’ up a storm beneath the Northern Lights.
Nothin’ could be finer, nothin’ feels so right
As tearin’ up the tundra on a Saturday night.
Tearin’ up the tundra on a Saturday night.
Hey up jump itty-bitty Annie. She can really move her fanny.
She’s just singing and a-havin’ such a time.
And in the centre of the crowd laughing long and laughing loud
There’s Elisapee and Davidee turnin’ on a dime.
Oh Peter’s in the corner makin’ eyes at Lorna.
She be rockin’ to the rhythm with a squeeze box on her knees.
She knows he’s ‘bout to pop but the crowd won’t let her stop
Screechin’ and a scratchin’ with a whistle and a wheeze.
Repeat Chorus
Tell me in your heart of hearts who could ask for more
Than wearin’ out your kamiks on a plywood floor ?
I recall there was a day you had a thing or two to say
But now you never say too much at all
And I’ll admit with resignation I ain’t been no inspiration
But if the sun don’t come up soon, it’s gonna drive me up the wall.
The dogs are gettin’ anxious. We got nothin’ left discussin’
“Cept another thiry days ‘fore we see daylight.
Don’t you whine and don’t you stew. We’ll have better things to do
Tearin’ up the tundra on a Saturday night.
Repeat Chorus
W.T. Tufts & Ed Bimm
SOCAN
Andrew Affleck: bass
Steve O’Connor: piano
Ken Post: drums
Don Reed: fiddle
Bob Stagg: accordian
Terry Tufts: vocals, acoustic and electric guitars, dobro.
For Rosemary.
================================================================
Harder Than Diamonds To Hold
“Same old same old.”
I ain’t a real cowboy, I can’t ride worth a damn.
I’m just a guitar cowboy and that’s all I’ve ever been.
Well I fell hard for a cowgirl, ‘bout the best I’d ever seen
And I was bested by another once she’d had the best of me.
Chorus
And she was fine like Mexican silver
She could shine like Klondike Gold
And her eyes were bluer than sapphire
But she was harder than diamonds to hold.
I’d serenade her in the ev’ning ‘til the mornin’ came around
Where she would work at ropin’ and ridin’.
I shoulda let her tie me down.
Chorus
And she was fine like Mexican silver
She could shine like Klondike Gold
And her eyes were bluer than sapphire
But she was harder than diamonds to hold.
One night I played the local tavern like a thousand times before
When some young roper wheeled her out to dance
And then he waltzed her out the door.
Chorus
And she was fine like Mexican silver
She could shine like Klondike Gold
And her eyes were bluer than sapphire
But she was harder than diamonds to hold.
And she was fine like Mexican silver
She could shine like Klondike Gold
And her eyes were bluer than sapphire
But she was harder than diamonds to hold.
W.T. Tufts, Steve O'Connor and Randall Prescott
SOCAN
John Dymond: bass
Steve O’Connor: piano
Ken Post: drums
Don Reed: fiddle
Terry Tufts: vocals, acoustic and electric guitars,
dobro, and mandolin.
================================================================
Not Another Love Song
“Rambling on and on.”
Excuse me, m’am, but time demands
Before you fire up that juke box,
You pause for thought and listen here to me.
You got to know that I’m so tire of hearin’ that same old same old
I love you left me and my sweet baby used to be.
See there’s a man there in the corner
With a hand choked full of quarters
An a heartache that he’s wearin’ on his sleeve.
So do us both a favour, play something we can savour,
But not another love song, if you please.
See if you take your av’rage person
And restrict their realm of focus
To just lovin’ and just livin’ with a mate;
If they’re healthy, they’ll lose int’rest
But if they’re happy, I must question
The reason for the lagging state of their developmental rate.
See I’ve really got no int’rest in another sad rendition of
Somebody’s vain pursuit of primal need.
So play and anthem or some gospel or instrumental composition.
But not another love song, if you please.
Bridge:
Oh the topical parameters are deceptively small.
The point is moot when soft pursuits become
The be all to end all.
And if he makes it to that Seeberg,
He’ll surely bring us to our knees,
So not another love song, if you please.
Bridge:
Oh the topical parameters are deceptively small.
The point is moot when soft pursuits become
The be all to end all.
Let’s take our culprit in the corner. He’s in here ev’ry night,
You must admit it leaves you wond’rin’ why
He’d spend his whole life list’nin’ to someone elses myth
When next he knows he’s all alone and life
Has up and passed him by.
Romance should never be the major part of anybody’s life
But the still ain’t found no cure for this disease.
Think of all you’d miss while tryin’ to find
A husband or a wife.
Oh not another love song, if you please.
W.T. Tufts, Steve O’Connor & Ken Friesen
SOCAN
John Dymond: bass
Steve O'Connor: piano
Ken “Slinky” Post: drums
Randall Prescott: harp
Don Reed: fiddle
Terry Tufts: vocals, acoustic guitar
================================================================
Free Life
“Andrew Affleck, Jon Park-Wheeler and myself wereplaying behind Susan Aglukark in Karesuando, Sweden and staying inKaresuanto, Finland, which is pretty much the same town with a border running through it. One morning after hitting the bar pretty hard the night before, I woke out of my stupor and wrote this down from a dream I had. It was complete in the ether and I just took dictation.”
Some folks like to be solid, rooted down tight like a tree.
Some folks bound to be anchored down at the bottom of the sea
Chorus
I like the free life, get around where ever I can.
Don’t need to be tied by the arms of a woman or the rules of another man.
Once or twice I waded deep into wedlock and it really took a piece out of me.
Tell you my friend I just shed my skin, ’said “Baby this ain’t for me.”
Chorus
I like the free life, get around where ever I can.
Don’t need to be tied by the arms of a woman or the rules of another man.
Solo
Little girl down at the station house puttin’ on such a show.
Tears in her eyes wellin’ up as she cries, sayin’ “Daddy why’d you have to go?”
Chorus
I like the free life, get around where ever I can.
Don’t need to be tied by the arms of a woman or the rules of another man.
Here I come now when you least expect Never bound to stay too long.
‘Fore I wear out the welcome, get your lovin’ while you can
‘Cause tomorrow mornin’ I’ll be gone.
Chorus
I like the free life, get around where ever I can.
Don’t need to be tied by the arms of a woman or the rules of another man.
Yeah, yeah, yeah
I like the free life, get around where ever I can.
Don’t need to be tied by the arms of a woman or the rules of another man.
I like the free life
I like the free life
W.T. Tufts
SOCAN
Andrew Affleck; bass,
Brian Magner: sax,
Steve O’Connor: keyboards
Ken Post: drums
Jon Park-Wheeler: acoustic and electric guitars,
Bill Rowat: trumpet
Terry Tufts: vocals, Mash slide guitar
For Andy Andrews, Johann Porsche-Dealer and Button Boy.
================================================================
Hello Lisa
“Steering towards the same old same old.”
Hello Lisa. I still love you.
I place nothing up above you
Are you listening ? Are you in there ?
There’s a heart I’d like to win here.
Chorus
I am willing. I would gamble
Ev’rything that I am able to
Wake up with you each morning of my life.
Are you sleeping ? Are you faking ?
Here’s a love you should be taking.
My attentions you are stealing.
Won’t you tell me what you’re feeling ?
Repeat Chorus
Bridge
And I’d never want to see you go.
I’d miss you more than you could ever know
And I’m glad what we’ve got’s still growing
Each morning of my life.
Hello Lisa. I still love you.
There is nothing that I won’t do.
Are you listening ? Are you sleeping ?
You’re a love I’d cherish keeping.
Repeat Chorus Twice
W.T. Tufts
SOCAN
Ken Kanwisher: bass
Steve O’Connor: piano
Ken Post: drums
Terry Tufts: vocals, guitar.
For Lisa Taylor
================================================================
Carmanah
The Carmanah Valley is host to one of the most magnificent examples of old-growth, semi-desiduous rain forests in the world. Located on Vancouver Island, it faces destruction by an unconcerned and savagely narrow minded segment of humanity despite so-called protective mechanisms legislated by the powers that be. Don’t you believe it!
I met a man who took me to the forest.
Perhaps he sensed like me that it would soon be gone.
Out on the highway on Monday morn.
Out of the sunshine and right into a rainstorm,
Up the Malahat, down the coast
Back to Victoria.
I dreamed of walking barefoot in Carmanah.
We only had the time to see Cathedral Grove.
I was astounded. I never knew.
I never realised the size a tree could grow to.
Hard as rock, large as life
And I could barely breath.
(Coldstream Interlude)
A piece of God is living in Carmanah.
I know this just as surely as I know myself.
They won’t believe it, don’t wanna know.
Voice of reason drowned out by the cash flow.
Tower of life laid so low
After so many years of growth.
I understand they’re cutting down Carmanah.
W.T. Tufts & Steve O'Connor
SOCAN
Ken Kanwisher: bass
Steve O’Connor: piano
Ken Post: drums
Terry Tufts: vocals, guitars, lap steel.
For Darin Adam.
================================================================
It Don’t Matter To Me
“Another tune I dreamt up in my sleep.”
Chorus
It don’t matter to me, it don’t matter that much at all.
You can do what you want ‘cause it don’t matter to me at all.
Well I been watchin’ you, babe and it occurs to me
You’re slowly gettin’ bored and restless as one can be.
Now you don’t wanna be shy of what you really feel.
Oh you been tryin’ but there’s no use in hidin’
What you can’t conceal.
Yes I recognize the posture, I know young hearts must meander
To remain sincere.
And as you’ve chosen to take chances
You must now look for the answers that you can’t find here.
Let me make it clear:
Repeat Chorus
Now don’t you worry ‘bout a thing once your finally gone.
Oh don’t you see, there ain’t no stoppin’ me.
I’m gonna carry on.
‘Cause there been many long days I was the lonely one.
Dark as you dare, as dry as the Sahara in the noon day sun.
When that desert waste grew hotter,
Love came giving my heart water runnin’ cool and clean.
Thank God for loves that stay forever
And the loves that tend to wander and loves in between.
You know what I mean ?
Repeat Chorus Twice
W.T. Tufts
SOCAN
Ken Kanwisher: bass
Steve O’Connor: keyboards
Ken Post: drums
Terry Tufts: vocals, guitars, dobro
================================================================
Posture
“ I played guitar for The Family Brown on one of their last engagements on the Pegasus, a cruise liner in the Caribbean. Miss Toronto Sun was one of the passengers and the rest of the compliment was made up of ball cappers on a country music cruise. You could tell when Miss Toronto Sun was on her way down the deck because all the old farts hanging about would suddenly move their guts up to their chests and stand as tall as they could manage without turning totally blue in the face.”
Gentlemen please, you may have already guessed
There’s a phenomenon here that we need to address.
A simple explanation is all that I’m after
Concerning what a pretty girl can do for your posture.
You could lose all your teeth, you could be losing your hair,
have an outlook so bleak that you hardly could care.
When you figure you’re the picture of a walking disaster
It’s amazing what a pretty girl can do for your posture.
Chorus
It’s a wonder we’ve witnessed since the dawn of creation
But we still don’t know enough to make a proper summation.
I could give you my opinion but the best I could offer
S’it’s amazing what a pretty girl can do for your posture.
Who-oh-uh-oh-uh-o-oh
It’s a magical occurrence, oh yessireebob.
The kind of thing that makes you wanna up and get a job.
Crank up a notch each time that the vision accosts ya.
It’s amazing what a pretty girl can do for your posture.
The kind of thing that hits you right between the eyes,
Make your ego grow ‘til it’s twice it’s size,
Spend the cash you don’t have and not care what it costs ya,
It’s amazing what a pretty girl can do for your posture.
Chorus
It’s a wonder we’ve witnessed since the dawn of creation
But we still don’t know enough to make a proper summation.
I could give you my opinion but the best I could offer
S’it’s amazing what a pretty girl can do for your posture.
Who-oh-uh-oh-uh-o-oh
Watch a rusty ol’ coupe become a Cadillac car,
Meat and potatoes turn to caviar.
Bad actors all become a candidate for the Oscars.
It’s amazing what a pretty girl can do for your posture.
Chorus
It’s a wonder we’ve witnessed since the dawn of creation
But we still don’t know enough to make a proper summation.
I could give you my opinion but the best I could offer
S’it’s amazing what a pretty girl can do for your posture.
Who-oh-uh-oh-uh-o-oh
Who-oh-uh-oh-uh-o-oh
W.T. Tufts
SOCAN
John Dymond: bass
Steve O’Connor: piano
Ken Post: drums
Bob “Gumbo” Stagg: accordian
Terry Tufts: vocals, guitars, Marrs Bar.
For Kit Julian.
================================================================
I Got To Tell You A Story
“Still chasing after that damned dog.”
I got to tell you a story.
Some time ago I was witness to a
Minor act of defiance by a two year old setter
At the expence of a Forty-Two year old man.
The dog went looking West for water
And plain refused to come to call
He had other voices speaking in the back of his head
And I was there to witness it all.
You see from my position high on the hillside
The two of them were easy to see.
Hidden from each other, the dog down below
On the road, and I could see them but they couldn’t
See me.
The dog just standin’ there, starin’ down the
Eighth concession to the Eastern Horizon.
The man called to the setter, and then once again
And then again with each succesive call
More like a demand.
GRAPHICALLY ILLUSTRATING THE MAN’S EVER-GROWING SENSE
OF FRUSTRATION AND ANNOYANCE.
I saw the dog look up and then look back down,
Lean to, open up and head for higher ground,
Down the valley, through the trees,
Changing tack, gaining speed.
One second he was standing like a statue on the lawn
And then just like that,
He’s down the eighth and gone, gone, gone.
Magic. I was so impressed that despite the passage of
Time, the image has remained fresh with me,
Like it happened this morning.
Time, time, time.
Not exactly all forgiving,
Not completely unkind.
Not as quick as I used to be,
A little slower to anger but still sharp enough to see
A growing indifference in the people that surround me,
A numbing acceptance of what is over what should be.
And I’m just as bad. Why some days seems like the
Only thing missing’s the funeral.
I got a job that takes more time than can be justified
With a half-wit, sawed-off, half-pint floor boss
Who figures that he’s got us all petrified.
He’d never get the time of day from me
If this was years ago.
On top of which, the
Woman I live with is not as easily
Pleeeesed as she once claimed to be.
Say’s she just doesn’t get enough
Time, time, time.
Well I had my fill, can’t take it anymore.
If things get any weirder,
I’ll be out the nearest door.
Pressure’s up. ‘Bout to blow.
Gettin’ hot. ‘Fore you know
That spark’ll start to lift me
Just like light’nin’ before dawn
Then clear the road, I’m down the eighth and
Gone, gone, gone.
W.T. Tufts
SOCAN
John Dymond: bass
Steve O’Connor: keyboards
Ken Post: drums
Randall Prescott: the best God-damned dirty-assed harp solo I’ve heard in a long time
Don Reed: fiddle
Terry Tufts: vocals, guitars, mandolin, banjo
Lucky Vibrato: dobro.
Engineered by Dusty Pots
For Frank Zappa, Jim Morrison, Lou Reed, Hank Williams,
Christopher Lloyd and Tim Tufts, love Chrome.
================================================================
Carmen's Beans
“No comment.”
Terry Tufts: guitar
For T.C.
================
No Comments