Lyle, John - Humors

Format: CD
Label: Cactus Records CR 3
Year: 1985
Origin: Surrey, British Columbia
Genre: folk
Value of Original Title: 
Make Inquiry/purchase: email ryder@robertwilliston.com
Release Type: Albums
Websites:  No
Playlist: 1980's, Folk, British Columbia


Track Name
How Romantic Of Me
Blasted In Hope
Oh My Wind
I Saw God
We Must Know
When I’m a P.H.D.
Going Through The Motions



John Lyle - Humors


John Lyle - Humors




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Headed for a career as an English professor in the mid 1960’s, John Lyle was ‘broadsided’ by Bob Dylan and The Beatles. His degree went out the window, and so did he, playing in a series of bands and then performing on Canadian network television and radio as a solo act. He was also signed to two record labels during this era, but realized that because of his highly sensitive nature he was not cut out for the performing life.

John returned to his home in the Vancouver area, and devoted himself to his family, supporting them with a career that may have been more dangerous than the performance stage. He became a postman. John Lyle’s wonderful body of work is evidence of a life lived on the streets and in the home, filled with all the love and loss and joy and despair that are part and parcel of being alive. The songs are vital, not written to imitate a commercial trend or to fulfill a contract, but to reflect the intensity of experience and to remain sane..........

'John's songs are amazing!' Frazee Ford (The Be Good Tanyas)..........

'We love John Lyle. We listen to him all the time.' The Sumner Brothers..........

'There's lots of nice stuff on there!' Paul Rodgers (Bad Company; Free; Queen).........

‘Magnificent!’ Robert Altman..........

John Lyle will take you gently to your safe place, and then sneak up on you with a song as uncompromisingly ferocious as a grizzly in a maternity ward.’ Dennis Albo, in his reality novel ‘One Bullet Left'..........

'The James Joyce of folk.' Heywood Banks........

.'Super passionate stuff!' Mark Smith.......

'Shivery gorgeous!' Aleta Penelope.......

'Keep at it!' Reggie Young.......

‘As poems, his lyrics are very powerful… I think the effect of the words is amplified by the music.’
Paul Dolinsky, editor, 'The Golden Lantern.' ......
'Not shit.' Les Vogt.

Lyrics for "Humors"


All locked into something the psychics can’t control
And the rainbow-fingered hordes are in a hole
With all of their possessions, beyond grief and past the dawn
While I work to hold back my yellow yawn

How romantic of me, how romantic of me
How romantic of me all along

How romantic of me to have eaten my degree
And passed it, Lord, I must learn how to ski
How romantic of me to keep my interest in a sack
And how romantic to keep keeping track

How romantic of me, how romantic of me
How romantic of me, coming back

All along the river inspectors take their counts
While up the country gurus climb the mount
Holy little brothers bathe their souls in burning bleach
While I work on my music on the beach

How romantic of me, how romantic of me
How romantic of me not to preach


In and out and out and in the ocean breezes blow
I been waiting for that sweet ride, like an ordinary orphan in the sand
Let me take my stand, soul dance in your hand
To tinsel tunes from silver stars, oh baby

Sweet low down and all around the lone star whistle blows
I been trying to make connection with my fast and lonesome
Southern dixie flyer, stream-lined and winding fire
Stone-blown through the sky, to what’s behind our lost tomorrow, baby

Eat the flesh and suck the bone and drink my blood like wine
I’ll come crashing through your window
Like a hot and heartless steaming Philistine
Full out to break your spine, smash your dreams on the door
To what’s behind our lost tomorrow, baby

Longing eyes are hypnotized inside the last sunbow
Let’s protect the same illusion, while the harvest moon is still a memory,
Eventual ecstasy’s a blockade to the star
And what’s behind our lost tomorrow, baby

(John Murray & John Lyle)

Oh the wind is like a friend of mine, she is fickle to a fault
One minute solid as a tree, and the next not worth her salt

That’s why she’s so fine, that’s why she’s not mine
Think of all she’s touched, still she gives so much…
Oh, my wind, where you been, I thought you said you’d write
Oh, my wind, where you been, I waited up all night

Oh the wind is like a friend of mine, she has a temper like a carving knife
She doesn’t do it to be mean, but now and then she’ll take a slice

Repeat chorus

Some blue Monday I’ll be under such a heavy cloud
With no way to turn my lonely head but down
Then my wind will blow on in and turn my life around
She’ll come runnin’, I’ll bet she’s thumbin’, just outside of town

Oh the wind is like a friend of mine, her fatal flaw is her saving grace
If she didn’t get around, I’d never see her lovely face

Repeat chorus


By accident I took a double dose of L.S.D.
I saw God inside my mirror and He looked a lot like me
Maybe two, three inches shorter, and a little sparse on top
He was cleaning his glasses, He was cleaning his glasses
With the blood of a lamb chop

I said, God, what you doin’ hung out in my mirror
He said takin’ a vacation, man, you never see me here
I said, God, I see you now, and when I wanna shave
I’ll have to drop my razor, I’ll have to drop my razor.
I’ll have to drop my razor and wave

God said, what have you been eating
I said Owsley’s L.S.D.
He said, go and count your marbles, kid
You’re lucky you still see
They’re not here, they’re over there, He said
So over there I go, and count my marbles
Count my marbles, count my marbles slow

When wonder piled on wonder up my alley I can see
God inside a cat’s-eye cleaning salmon with a key


We must know what really happened (gonna tell ya)
We must know what really happened (I can smell ya)

Mr. Hollywood came knockin’ at the door
He said, what’s a big star like you doin’, baby
Not working anymore
Big star said, I don’t know, maybe it’s my age
Sometimes I think they’re laughing at me
Then he flew into a rage

Repeat chorus

Big star spelled his drink and swore into the Montecito sun
Mr. Hollywood said, baby, wait’ll you hear what I done
We’re on the red-eye to the apple, we’ll get a limo to Times Square
We’ll find a most outstanding mugging, the paparazzi will be there
You’ll save someone or other from the vicious junkie hordes
And when the story hits the tabloids it will strike responsive chords

Repeat chorus

Now wait a little minute, said the big star as he hid
His face behind his glass, he said let’s not and say we did
And that’s what really happened, and that’s why he’s back to work
And I’ll bet you thought the big star wasn’t nothin’,
Wasn’t nothin’, wasn’t nothin’, wasn’t nothin’ but a jerk!

6. WHEN I’M A P.H.D.

When I’m a P.H.D., no one will dare to question me
Except the other P.H.D.’s, but not when I’m on TV
Where everyone will worship me, oh Jehovah!

P.H.D., P.H.D., I will be a P.H.D
With a bona fide degree made out to me

When I’m a P.H.D., I’m gonna share my salary
With all my family for everything they did for me
To help me finally get to be

A P.H.D., P.H.D., I will be a P.H.D
With a bona fide degree made out to me

At our parties all us smarties will let down our hair
Stand on a chair, bare as you dare, you can stare
But we won’t care

When I’m a P.H.D., no ivory tower will fall on me
In my professional building by the sea
Where I’ll teach everyone to be
A successful PHD like me, why don’t you be like me


This little bubble, this black cauldron of trouble
The starry-eyed call mother earth
Can blow all to hell, clean the air of the smell
But that’ll just add to my mirth

Going through the moves, going through the motions
Everything we choose is a preconceived notion
There are no heroes and there are no villains
Just us little computer children

Going through the moves, going through the motions
Every means is an end, every end is a potion

Going through the moves, going through the motions
Every means is an end, every end is a potion
Fight fire with water, fight hate with love
Wake up before push comes to shove

No one deserves credit, no one deserves blame
No one deserves a fortune, no one deserves fame
No one deserves a great big mansion or a ghetto full of pain
No one deserves what they get, but they get it just the same

Going through the moves, going through the motions
A new world awaits based on the notion
We accept one another like the wind and the rain
Free as the birds and bees in our chains


We have ranchero, we have mucho dinero,
In our world not a care-o,
Ay yi yi yi yi yi

We can depend on our hacienda
To defend us when the four winds blow
No matter how bad the weather may be,
We always will have somewhere to go

So when the clouds frown upon us
And the rains try to drown us
And the wind is beating at our door
There’s a song we’ll be making
While the snowflakes are flaking
And it goes like this, Senor

Repeat refrain


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