Iris DeMent to 'Sing the Delta,' First New Music in 16 Years

Exclusive First Listen: Hear the Title Song ... Album Art & Tracklisting

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Artists in this Article

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Greg Brown

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Iris DeMent

Iris DeMent will close out a 16-year gap since her last album of originals on October 2, when "Sing the Delta" is released on the acclaimed folk singer's Flariella label. DeMent tells Billboard she's been "waiting on this bunch of songs" for as long as fans have -- since 1996's "The Way I Should."

"I think one is from 1998," she says of one of the dozen songs on the album. "A handful got written this past year and a few others were laying around in pieces. Some of 'em I had but didn't sing out because I didn't know if they were any good. Some I just didn't know how to sing yet."

By the sound of the title track, debuting exclusively below, DeMent had a good idea how to sing it. Listen:



DeMent credits the group of players who assembled in the studio -- including Al Perkins and Reese Wynans and her co-producers Bo Ramsey and Richard Bennett, for helping to put the pieces together for "Delta."

"They made it possible for me and these songs to settle into a home, so to speak," she says. "The wait was right. I wasn't ready up until then. The songs weren't ready. The right bunch of players, producers, engineers... you name it, it wasn't there till now. I'm glad I waited."

DeMent's pure storytelling and powerful, trembling soprano first floored listeners on her 1992 debut "Infamous Angel," a collection of introspective songs about faith, loss and love (gone good and bad). Her stunning follow-up a year later, "My Life," had even more ache and polish, but retained a folky guitar/standup bass/piano soundscape. She toughened things up on "The Way I Should," adding a rocking sound and cutting social issue-based protest songs like "Wasteland of the Free." In 2004 she released "Lifeline," an album of traditional gospel songs.

Musically, the "Sing the Delta" track resembles her previous set of originals -- with its horns and drums and overall bluesiness -- but lyrically there's a return to Iris the folksy storyteller. The Arkansas native, who lives in southeast Iowa with her husband, folk singer Greg Brown, explains the song:

I was driving around out here on one of these gravel roads where I live, when the phone rang and it was my stepdaughter Pieta Brown telling me she was on her way down south to mix a record she'd just recorded. My mom was sick at the time... a lot was going on. Mom was born and raised, spent most her life, in the part of the country known as the Arkansas Delta. I have a lot of memories and emotions tied up with that place and I just got so lonesome thinking about it. I wanted to point my car south and return to something, someplace, that in my mind, had always symbolized home. I just started singing to make myself feel better, and out came that song, although, it originally had a very Carter Family kind of a melody and feel. Weeks later when I sat down to revisit it, it came tumbling out just as it is now. Very different but with the same heart. It comforts me every time I sing it. All that I love that seems far away comes back home to me.

To promote "Sing the Delta," DeMint will make select live appearances, starting Aug. 9 at the Grammy Museum in Los Angeles and on Aug. 11 at the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville. Other concert dates will dot the rest of the year, mostly on weekends.

"Sing the Delta" tracklisting:
1. Go Ahead And Go Home
2. Before The Colors Fade
3. The Kingdom Has Already Come
4. The Night I Learned How Not To Pray
5. Sing The Delta
6. If That Ain't Love
7. Livin' On The Inside
8. Makin' My Way Back Home
9. Mornin' Glory
10. There's A Whole Lotta Heaven
11. Mama Was Always Tellin' Her Truth
12. Out Of The Fire

The Postman Always Rings Twice- The Folk Rock Music Of John Prine

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of John Prine performing his classic, Angel From Montgomery.

CD Review

John Prine: The Singing Mailman Delivers, John Prine, OnBoy Records, 2011

Over the last several years I have done more musically-oriented reviews that I had expected to on this site in order to flesh out the role of some of the 1960's cultural icons on the times. One of the themes that have kept cropping up is that for some folk/blues-oriented musical artists like Bob Dylan my attachment was immediate, long time and on-going. For other artists like John Prine it has been more of a recently acquired taste. In fact, my first acquaintance with the work of John Prine, at least that I was aware of, was several years ago when I was requested to get a couple of his CDs for a friend for a Christmas gift. Upon listening to those albums, that included material also produced here from his early live concerts like Hello In There, we both agreed that the best bet was to return them and get something else. Go figure.

But that is not the end of the story. I had, obviously, heard Bonnie Raitt do Prine's Angel From Montgomery long ago but I never associated his name with that song. Then a couple of years ago I happened to listen to that Hello In There mentioned above again and Sam Stone. Anyone whose has been affected by the Vietnam War experience in any way will gasp after hearing this very personal take of the destructiveness of that war for many of those who fought it, found hard drugs, and found the black hole as a result. If you want to hear a real anti-war song rather than something wistful like Where have All The Flowers Gone? and the like then listen to this one. Yes, this guy Prine had something to say that I wanted to (and on some songs, needed to) hear.

This compilation represents a very wide selection of his best work, arguably the best representation of that early work in one location that you could get. Mr. Prine is a good guitar player, a very, very good wordsmith who has produced some poetic turns of phrases here that will have you thinking for a while. Moreover on, for example, “Illegal Smile” he can show his “silly”, nonsensical side. He also frankly, has the wry sense of humor (in the classical Greek sense of that word) of a man who has been pushed around by life, has pushed back; has taken his beatings, dusted himself off and gotten back up again. You know, just the kind of guy that I, and I am sure other guys and gals of a certain age, very definitely can relate to, and in some cases like that Hello In There need to relate to. If you have just one John Prine album to get this is the one. Then start saving your dough to get the others.

In addition to the songs mentioned above listen to his cover of Hank Williams’“Jambalaya” and Prine'sParadise. Also Quiet Man, Souvenirs, and A Good Time.

*I Hear The Voice Of My Arky Angel-Once Again, The Music Of Iris Dement

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Iris DeMent performing "Our Town". Every once in a while I NEED to hear that voice, especially her "These Hills" and "After You've Gone". Today is one of those days

CD REVIEW

Infamous Angel, Iris Dement, Rounder Records, 1992

Frankly, and I admit this publicly for the first time in this space, I love Ms. Iris Dement. Not personally, of course, but through her voice, her lyrics and her musical presence. This ‘confession’ may seem rather startling coming from a reviewer who is as likely here to go on and on about Bolsheviks, ‘Che’, Leon Trotsky, high communist theory and the like. Especially, as well given Ms. Dement’s seemingly simple quasi- religious themes and commitment to paying homage to her rural background in song. All such discrepancies though go out the window here. Why?

Well, for one, this old radical got a lump in his throat the first time he heard “These Hills”. Okay, that happens sometimes-once- but why did he have the same reaction on the fifth and twelfth hearings? Explain that. I can easily enough. If, on the very, very remotest chance, there is a heaven then I know one of the choir members. Enough said. By the way give a listen to “Sweet Forgiveness” and “After You’ve Gone” (with that great line about 'knowing' every line in her man's face. Then you too will be in love with Ms. Iris Dement. Iris, here is my proposal. If you get tired of fishing the U.P., or wherever, with Mr. Greg Brown, get bored with his endless twaddle about old Iowa farms or going on and on about Grannma's cellar just whistle. Better yet just yodel like you did on “Jimmie Rodgers Going Home” on that “Driftless” CD.

INFAMOUS ANGEL (Iris DeMent)
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

Last night before I went to sleep my knees dropped to the floor
I turned me eyes up to the sky and I prayed "Please help me, Lord,
you know I've sowed my wild oats and now the fun's all gone"
and then I heard these tender words
and I put them in my song:

"Infamous Angel come on home
to someone who loves you and knows you needed to roam
Grab your things, a ticket's waiting at the bus depot
for: Infamous Angel, Destination: Home"

I heard heaven's choir rejoicing as the tears broke from my eyes
and all at once it lifted the weight from my past life
I found a pen and I left a note on the dresser drawer
"Infamous Angel, she don't live here anymore"

Infamous Angel come on home
to someone who loves you and knows you needed to roam
Grab your things, a ticket's waiting at the bus depot
for: Infamous Angel, Destination: Home

Then I hurried out the back door as quickly as I could
I went flying down two flights of stairs 'til on the street I stood
and there I took that final look at my old neighbourhood
Then I ran down the street proclaiming "Angel gone for good"

Infamous Angel going home
to someone who loves her and knows she needed to roam
She grabbed her things and claimed the ticket at the bus depot
for: Infamous Angel, Destination: Home
Infamous Angel, Destination: Home



SWEET FORGIVENESS (Iris DeMent)
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

Sweet forgiveness, that's what you give to me
when you hold me close and you say "That's all over"
You don't go looking back,
you don't hold the cards to stack,
you mean what you say.

Sweet forgiveness, you help me see
I'm not near as bad as I sometimes appear to be
When you hold me close and say
"That's all over, and I still love you"

There's no way that I could make up for those angry words I said
Sometimes it gets to hurting and the pain goes to my head

Sweet forgiveness, dear God above
I say we all deserve a taste of this kind of love
Someone who'll hold our hand,
and whisper "I understand, and I still love you"



AFTER YOU'RE GONE (Iris DeMent)
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

There'll be laughter even after you're gone
I'll find reasons to face that empty dawn
'cause I've memorized each line in your face
and not even death can ever erase the story they tell to me

I'll miss you, oh how I'll miss you
I'll dream of you and I'll cry a million tears
but the sorrow will pass and the one thing that will last
is the love that you've given to me

There'll be laughter even after you're gone
I'll find reason and I'll face that empty dawn
'cause I've memorized each line in your face
and not even death could ever erase the story they tell to me



MAMA'S OPRY (Iris DeMent)
[note: harmony vocals provided by Emmylou Harris]
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

She grew up plain and simple in a farming town
Her daddy played the fiddle and use to do the calling
when they had hoedowns
She said the neighbors would come
and they'd move all my grandma's furniture 'round
and there'd be twenty or more there on the old wooden floor
dancing to a country sound

The Carters and Jimmy Rodgers played her favourite songs
and on Saturday nights there was a radio show
and she would sing along
and I'll never forget her face when she revealed to me
that she'd dreamed about singing at The Grand Ol' Opry

Her eyes, oh how they sparkled when she sang those songs
While she was hanging the clothes on the line
I was a kid just a humming along
Well, I'd be playing in the grass,
to her what might've seemed obliviously
but there ain't no doubt about it, she sure made her mark on me

She played old gospel records on the phonograph
She turned them up loud and we'd sing along
but those days have passed
Just now that I am older it occurs to me
that I was singing in the grandest opry

And we sang Sweet Rose of Sharon, Abide With Me
'til I ride The Gospel Ship to Heaven's Jubilee
and In That Great Triumphant Morning my soul will be free
and My Burdens Will Be Lifted when my Saviour's face I see
So I Don't Want to Get Adjusted to This World below
but I know He'll Pilot Me 'til it comes time to go
Oh, nothing on this earth is half as dear to me
as the sound of my Mama's Opry

And we sang Sweet Rose of Sharon, Abide With Me
'til I ride The Gospel Ship to Heaven's Jubilee
and In That Great Triumphant Morning my soul will be free
and My Burdens Will Be Lifted when my Saviour's face I see
So I Don't Want to Get Adjusted to This World below
but I know He'll Pilot Me 'til it comes time to go
Oh, nothing on this earth is half as dear to me
as the sound of my Mama's Opry



HIGHER GROUND (Iris DeMent)
[note: lead vocal by Flora Mae DeMent, backing vocals by "The Infamous Angel Choir" (Iris, etc.)]
Traditional, public domain

[Spoken intro by Iris: "No voice has inspired me more than my mother's. She showed me that music is a pathway to higher ground".]

I'm pressing on the upward way
New heights I'm gaining every day
Still praying as I'm onward bound
Lord, plant my feet on higher ground

Lord, lift me up and let me stand
by faith on Heaven's table land
A higher plain than I have found
Lord, plant me feet on higher ground

My heart has no desire to stay
where doubts arise and fears dismay
Though some may dwell where these abound
my prayer, my aim, is higher ground

Lord, lift me up and let me stand
by faith on Heaven's table land
A higher plain than I have found
Lord, plant me feet on higher ground

I want to scale the utmost heights
and catch a gleam of glory bright
but still I'll pray 'til heaven I've found
Lord, lead me on to higher ground

Lord, lift me up and let me stand
by faith on Heaven's table land
A higher plain than I have found
Lord, plant me feet on higher ground

Lord, lift me up and let me stand
by faith on Heaven's table land
A higher plain than I have found
Lord, plant me feet on higher ground

Deep In The Hills And Hollows Of Mountain Country- “The “Appalachians” In Story And Song

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Iris Dement performing "Pretty Saro" in the film "Song Catcher".

DVD Review

The Appalachians, 3 DVD set, various commentators and mountain musicians, PBS Productions, 2005

I have spend no little time over the past several months putting roots music, the historical roots of mountain music in the hills and hollows of the Appalachians, especially Kentucky and my own personal connection with the place as a son of a coal mining son of the region together. This film documentary takes two of those strands, roots music and the history of the region and tries to explain the values behind the music and behind the pioneer spirit that drove some of our forbears to those lonely hill and hollows to eke out a an existence and create a cultural gradient that is not always understandable to those of us not immersed in that milieu. Except those virtues of hard work, hard religion, hard times and hard liquor are not all that far from the mainstream experiences, at least of earlier generations. In a sense this film is a tribute to a vanishing breed, a breed the mined the coal in the eastern mines, and farmed those hard rock acres. I like to think that some of those virtues and, of course, the music would not die.

Along the way this documentary traces the roots of the original Northern European settlers as they fled, or were pushed , from the East Coast and sought the new virgin lands of the then ‘west’ in the 17th and 18th centuries. Their uneasy relationship, finally untenable, with the various indigenous Native American tribes in the 19th century. The film also points out the gathering storm over the slavery issue that would literally become the “brothers’ war” in much of the region in the mid-19th century civil war. In the post- Civil War period the outlines of a distinctive Appalachian cultural gradient became recognizable through an exploitation of the natural resources of the area generated by the needs of the emerging industrial age, especially mining of the abundant coal fields. The struggle between labor and capital takes center place as the driving force from then until the near present. This includes the titanic struggles for mine workers union recognition, the demise of labor intensive coal mining and the rise of mass high tech mining that has ravished the land.

But, mainly this film is an exposition on the music. Without straining credulity "mountain music" is the music of the simple folk of Appalachia, those who worked hard in the coal mines, on the hard scrabble farms and in the isolated mills of the region. This was their Saturday night entertainment and with the advent of radio was a unifying cultural experience. The songs "speak" of hard and lonely lives, the beauty of the then pristine countryside, the usual vagaries of love and lost and the mysterious ways of a very personal, if arbitrary, god. Throw in a few upbeat tunes reflecting the love of "corn" liquor, women and the sometimes funny side of coping with life's trials and tribulations and you have the mountain version of the folk experience. Sound familiar? Sure it does, except, it is done with simple guitar, a blazing fiddle and, hopefully, a full-bodied mandolin.

John Prine, Paradise Lyrics

When I was a child my family would travel
Down to Western Kentucky where my parents were born
And there's a backwards old town that's often remembered
So many times that my memories are worn.

Chorus:
And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mister Peabody's coal train has hauled it away

Well, sometimes we'd travel right down the Green River
To the abandoned old prison down by Adrie Hill
Where the air smelled like snakes and we'd shoot with our pistols
But empty pop bottles was all we would kill.

Repeat Chorus:

Then the coal company came with the world's largest shovel
And they tortured the timber and stripped all the land
Well, they dug for their coal till the land was forsaken
Then they wrote it all down as the progress of man.

Repeat Chorus:

When I die let my ashes float down the Green River
Let my soul roll on up to the Rochester dam
I'll be halfway to Heaven with Paradise waitin'
Just five miles away from wherever I am.

Repeat Chorus:


Soggy Bottom Boys - I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow Lyrics

I am the man of constant sorrow
I've seen trouble all my days
I bid farewell to ol' Kentucky
The place where I was born and raised.

The place where he was born and raised

For six long years I've been in trouble,
no pleasure here on earth I've found
For in this world, I'm bound to ramble,
I have no friends to help me now.

He has no friends to help him now

It's fair thee well, my old true lover,
I never expect to see you again.
For I'm bound to ride that Northern Railroad,
perhaps I'll die upon this train

Perhaps he'll die upon this train

You can bury me in some deep valley,
For many years where I may lay.
And you may learn to love another
while I am sleeping in my grave.

While he is sleeping in his grave

Maybe your friends think I'm just a stranger
My face you never will see no more
But there is one promise that is given,
I'll meet you on Gods golden shore

He'll meet you on God's golden shore

Big Rock Candy Mountain

One evening as the sun went down and the jungle fire was burning
Down the track came a hobo hiking and he said boys I'm not turning
I'm headin for a land that's far away beside the crystal fountains
So come with me we'll go and see the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains there's a land that's fair and bright
Where the handouts grow on bushes and you sleep out every night
Where the boxcars are all empty and the sun shines every day
On the birds and the bees and the cigarette trees
Where the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains all the cops have wooden legs
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth and the hens lay soft boiled eggs
The farmer's trees are full of fruit and the barns are full of hay
Oh, I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall and the wind don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains you never change your socks
And the little streams of alcohol come a-trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew and of whiskey too
You can paddle all around 'em in a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains the jails are made of tin
And you can walk right out again as soon as you are in
There ain't no short handled shovels, no axes saws or picks
I'm a goin to stay where you sleep all day
Where they hung the jerk that invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

I'll see you all this coming fall in the Big Rock Candy Mountains


Ralph Stanley - O Death Lyrics

O, Death
O, Death
Won't you spare me over til another year
Well what is this that I can't see
With ice cold hands takin' hold of me
Well I am death, none can excel
I'll open the door to heaven or hell
Whoa, death someone would pray
Could you wait to call me another day
The children prayed, the preacher preached
Time and mercy is out of your reach
I'll fix your feet til you cant walk
I'll lock your jaw til you cant talk
I'll close your eyes so you can't see
This very air, come and go with me
I'm death I come to take the soul
Leave the body and leave it cold
To draw up the flesh off of the frame
Dirt and worm both have a claim

O, Death
O, Death
Won't you spare me over til another year
My mother came to my bed
Placed a cold towel upon my head
My head is warm my feet are cold
Death is a-movin upon my soul
Oh, death how you're treatin' me
You've close my eyes so I can't see
Well you're hurtin' my body
You make me cold
You run my life right outta my soul
Oh death please consider my age
Please don't take me at this stage
My wealth is all at your command
If you will move your icy hand
Oh the young, the rich or poor
Hunger like me you know
No wealth, no ruin, no silver no gold
Nothing satisfies me but your soul

O, death
O, death
Wont you spare me over til another year
Wont you spare me over til another year
Wont you spare me over til another year

The Stanley Brothers - Angel Band Lyrics

The latest sun is sinking fast, my race is nearly run
My strongest trials now are past, my triumph is begun
O come Angel Band, come & around me stand
O bear me away on your snowy wings to my immortal home
O bear me away on your snowy wings to my immortal home
I know I'm near the holy ranks of friends & kindred dear
I've brushed the dew on Jordan's banks, the crossing must be near
I've almost gained my Heavenly home, my spirit loudly sings
The Holy ones, behold they come, I hear the noise of wings
O bear my longing heart to Him who bled & died for me
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin & gives me victory

*A Greg Brown Encore-“Covenant”

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Greg Brown (with producer Bo Ramsey) performing "Dream City".

CD Review

Covenant, Greg Brown, produced by Bo Ramsey, Red House Records, 2000

The first two paragraphs have been used in other reviews of folk musician/singer/songwriter Greg Brown’s work.

Greg Brown is a particular kind of folk singer who before I listened to his “Greg Brown-The Live One ” album reviewed elsewhere in this space I had not really paid attention to since the days of my early youth when I listened intently to Woody Guthrie whose songs were seemingly forged from the very heart of Americana. As a child of the urban folk revival of the 1960’s I got caught up in listening to the more political message songs provided by the likes of Bob Dylan or Phil Ochs. As a poet/singer/songwriter Greg has come out of the heartland of America, like Woody, in a fury to write and sing his tales of love, remembrance, tragedy, desperation and, on occasion, just pure whimsy. He is thus in very good company, and belongs there.

His songs evoke, under more modern conditions to be sure, the days gone by when the community spirit of small town life meant something. A strong bass voice grainy with the trials and tribulations of life lend authenticity to his words, as does strong guitar playing when necessary. Needless to say the variety of topics covered in his songs speak for themselves from Grandma's food cellars to vanishing Iowa family farms to sweaty nights of lovemaking entwined with the up and down battles of love and, of course, the ubiquitous bouts of fishing that gain more than a nod in his albums.

Outstanding here are “dream city”, “pretty one more time”, and “waiting on you”.
As always Greg is on top when singing about the seamy side of life, love and the mysteries of human existence out in the heartland.

Waiting on You

waiting on you waiting on you
is about all i do
another night another day
i'm waiting on you
& i don't know why i
keep waiting on you

make up your mind make up your mind
why don't you
it'd be kind it'd be kinder
you know it's true
& i don't know why i
keep waiting on you

yes or no yes or no
what's it gonna be
i can't live on dreams & maybe
& i don't know why i
keep waiting on you

one of these days i'm gonna go away from this
without a why without a cry without a kiss
then you'll know what it is with this deal
then you'll feel what it is that i feel
& even if you don't
at least i won't
be waiting on you


Living in a Prayer
everybody looks like someone i just saw five minutes ago
if i looked too far in the mirror i know i'd have to run
from copper harbour way down to acapulco
where the sun shines on the moon & the moon gives it back to everyone
i'm living in a prayer

every time i turn around some ghost wants to buy me a beer
feel like i'm living in a trashy novel where plot's the only thing
the fire's out the smoke has blown but still nothing is clear
i could swear it's a summer day but then why am i freezing
i should be there

why god let us meet at this time i have no idea
maybe i have paid for my sins by now or i don't have long to live
the meadowlark's song in the evening is not as sweet as the one you sing to me
i will dig deep in my pockets
see what boyhood treasures i can give
you should be here
i should be there
long as i'm in your heart
i'm living in a prayer


Dream City
i'm living in dream city
lost in dreams of you
i'm living in dream city
dreaming is all i do
they're gonna cut off my water
unplug my telephone
if i don't stop my dreaming
i will be out on the street alone

i'm living in dream city
dreaming i'm holding you near
& this is where i'll be
until you give me
a ride out of here

it's such a fine city
i'm running down the halls
it's a red wine city
i'm bumping into walls
i'm living in a palace
i go from room to room
close my eyes & see you
i'm just chasing your perfume

i'm living in dream city
& the rent is rising fast
i'm living in dream city
i don't know how long i can last
if you had never hugged me
my feet would still touch the ground
if you had never kissed me
i'd be back in my hometown


Lullaby
i look at you & i think of bed
you move so cool & freely
& i know what's going on in your head
oh babe you make me sleepy

& we've been married all these years
we know each other deeply
& oh my dear oh my dear
you still make me sleepy

the children they are nearly grown
& ain't they turned out sweetly
they're out tonight & we're alone
& oh babe you make me sleepy

i know your stories you know mine
but tell that one again to me
about the wet woods & the red wine
oh babe it makes me sleepy

you make me feel like lying down
let your hair down completely
when you pull on that raggedyass old cotton nightgown
oh babe you make me sleepy

since we first met & i gave you that twirl
i know nothing can defeat me
not as long as you're my girl
oh babe you make me sleepy

& in your arms i sleep so fine
so well do you meet me
& you can wake me any time
oh babe i ain't that sleepy


Blue Car
i'm driving my blue car baby
down from the mountain so high
i'm driving my blue car baby
coming down to say goodbye

the sunrise is a miracle
but it can't hold a candle to you
do you remember them rides in my blue car
back when it was brand new

well it's a good old car
but the clutch is a little loose
and the brakes are screaming
a song called what's the use
but it's good for one more trip
one more trip to you

the lightning's meant to strike
the tall pine trees
& the birds are meant to cry
& wheel in the breeze
but some things baby
i guess they just ain't meant to be

when i get back up on the mountain
i'll close my door against the wind
i'll park my old blue car
i may fall down the mountain
but i will never fall in love again


Walkin' Daddy
i'm walkin' daddy in the steps that you put down
i'm walkin' daddy & i know not where I'm bound

i'm walkin' daddy this road is dark & long
i'm walkin' daddy & your blood is in me strong

i'm walkin' daddy where the jack's fork river bends
down in missouri where the jack's fork river bends
with you & ma & my sister & with all my dear friends

you're walkin' daddy off through the woods you old hillbilly
you said "this is my son in whom I am well pleased"

ain't no road a good road until it's free to everyone
we're walkin' daddy father holy ghost & son

ain't no sorrow can dim the love comes shining through
i'm walkin' daddy I know what I am here to do

to be of use try to help the deal along
i'm walkin' daddy & i'm just gonna keep walkin' on


Pretty One More Time
all the leaves are turning
& the fields are clear
there's a fire burning
i wish you were here

pretty one more time
pretty one more time
before we're down the line
pretty one more time

& the light is raining
from a midwest sky
i'm all through explaining
goodbye to goodbye

it's getting dark so early
i walked all afternoon
all i see so clearly
will be gone so soon

& a dim light beckons
from a roadside bar
i'll stop in i reckon
i have already come this far

find a place by the window
i've been here before
babe don't be a no-show
come on through that door

i'll write you a letter
i know you feel the fall
things may not get better
but we can always stall

*A Greg Brown Encore- The Best Of Early Greg Brown…. “If I Had Known”

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Greg Brown (with Bo Ramsey) performing "If I Had Known".


CD/DVD Review

If I Had Known: Essential Recordings, 1980-1996 , Greg Brown, Red House Records, 2003

The first two paragraphs have been used in other reviews of folk musician/singer/songwriter Greg Brown’s work.

Greg Brown is a particular kind of folk singer who before I listened to his “Greg Brown-The Live One ” album reviewed elsewhere in this space I had not really paid attention to since the days of my early youth when I listened intently to Woody Guthrie whose songs were seemingly forged from the very heart of Americana. As a child of the urban folk revival of the 1960’s I got caught up in listening to the more political message songs provided by the likes of Bob Dylan or Phil Ochs. As a poet/singer/songwriter Greg has come out of the heartland of America, like Woody, in a fury to write and sing his tales of love, remembrance, tragedy, desperation and, on occasion, just pure whimsy. He is thus in very good company, and belongs there.

His songs evoke, under more modern conditions to be sure, the days gone by when the community spirit of small town life meant something. A strong bass voice grainy with the trials and tribulations of life lend authenticity to his words, as does strong guitar playing when necessary. Needless to say the variety of topics covered in his songs speak for themselves from Grandma's food cellars to vanishing Iowa family farms to sweaty nights of lovemaking entwined with the up and down battles of love and, of course, the ubiquitous bouts of fishing that gain more than a nod in his albums.

Outstanding here in this version of a “greatest hits” –style albums are: the title track “If I Had Known”, “Canned Goods”, “The Train Carrying Jimmy Rodgers Home”, Where Is Maria”, and the classic “The Poet Game”. As always Greg is on top when singing about the seamy side of life, love and the mysteries of human existence out in the heartland.

"Boomtown"
Here come the artists with their intense faces,
with their need for money and quiet spaces.
They leave New York, they leave L.A..
Here they are - who knows how long they'll stay -

[chorus:]
It's a Boomtown
got another Boomtown
and it'll boom
just as long as boom has room.

Here come the tourists with their blank stares,
with their fanny packs - they are penny millionaires.
Something interesting happened here long time ago.
Now where people used to live their lives the restless
come and go.

[repeat chorus]

Nice to meet you, nice to see you
in a sheepskin coat made in Korea.
Welcome to the new age, the new century.
Welcome to a town with no real reason to be.

[repeat chorus]

The rich build sensitive houses and pass their staff around.
For the rest of us, it's trailers on the outskirts of town.
We carry them their coffee, wash their shiny cars,
hear all about how lucky we are
to be living in a ...

[repeat chorus]

The guy from California moves in and relaxes.
The natives have to move - they cannot pay the taxes.
Santa Fe has had it. Sedona has, too.
Maybe you'll be lucky - maybe your town will be the new...

[repeat chorus]


"The Poet Game"
Down by the river junior year
walking with my girl,
and we came upon a place
there in the tall grass where a couple
had been making love
and left the mark of their embrace.
I said to her, "Looks like they had some fun."
She said to me, "Let's do the same."
and still I taste her kisses
and her freckles in the sun
when I play the poet game.

A young man down in hill country
in the year of '22
went to see his future bride.
She lived in a rough old shack
that poverty blew through.
She invited him inside.
She'd been cooking, ashamed and feeling sad,
she could only offer him bread and her name -
Grandpa said that it was the best gift
a fella ever had
and he taught me the poet game.

I had a friend who drank too much
and played too much guitar -
and we sure got along.
Reel-to-reels rolled across
the country near and far
with letters poems and songs..
but these days he don't talk to me
and he won't tell me why.
I miss him every time i say his name.
I don't know what he's doing
or why our friendship died
while we played the poet game.

The fall rain was pounding down
on an old New Hampshire mill
and the river wild and high.
I was talking to her while leaves blew down
like a sudden chill -
there was wildness in her eyes.
We made love like we'd been waiting
all of our lives for this -
Strangers know no shame -
But she had to leave at dawn
and with a sticky farewell kiss
left me to play the poet game.

I watched my country turn into
a coast-to-coast strip mall
and I cried out in a song:
if we could do all that in thirty years,
then please tell me you all -
why does good change take so long?
Why does the color of your skin
or who you choose to love
still lead to such anger and pain?
And why do I think it's any help
for me to still dream of
playing the poet game?

Sirens wail above the fields -
another soul gone down -
another Sun about to rise.
I've lost track of my mistakes,
like birds they fly around
and darken half of my skies.
To all of those I've hurt -
I pray you'll forgive me.
I to you will freely do the same.
so many things I didn't see,
with my eyes turned inside,
playing the poet game.

I walk out at night to take a leak
underneath the stars -
oh yeah that's the life for me.
There's Orion and the Pleiades
and I guess that must be Mars -
all as clear as we long to be.
I've sung what I was given -
some was bad and some was good.
I never did know from where it came
and if I had it all to do again
I am not sure I would
play the poet game.


"Ballingall Hotel"
I said I'd never come to this ugly old hotel again.
Baby, here I am.

I said I'd never knock again on # 22
Baby, how are you?

Some nights something grabs you and
you don't even know what it is.
Give me a kiss.

Leave that black slip on and dance just like you
did last time.
I'm so glad your plans for leaving fell through -
just like mine.

Ain't no air conditioning, the ceiling fan don't work
too well.
Guess we'll have to sweat it out again at the
Ballingal Hotel.

One night I knocked on the wrong door
and myself as an old man answered - so drunk
and so poor.

I said I'd never come again to this ugly old hotel -
but what the hell.


"One Wrong Turn"
[chorus:]
One wrong turn is all it takes
and there ain't many signs -
you only get a few breaks.
Some get more. Some get less.
One wrong turn leads to the next.

The days go slow and the years go fast.
The future you look for is soon the past.
You seldom end up where you thought you would.
One wrong turn can change it all for good.

[repeat chorus]

Love ain't a hug. Love ain't a kiss.
Love is every day doing this, that, this.
We put in our time and we put in our heart.
One wrong turn can tear it all apart.

[repeat chorus]

Where's that little house with the porch light on
in a stand of cedar and the highway gone -
Good smells of cooking and the garden loam -
I'd have thought by now I'd have found my home.

[repeat chorus]


"Jesus & Elvis"
Jesus had some water, said "Wine'd be better yet".
Elvis picked up a guitar and made all women wet.

Elvis he died young - Jesus he died younger.
Elvis died of too much - Jesus died of hunger.

Jesus sang down through the ages: "Do like you'd have'em
do you".
Elvis rocked the universe with be-bop-a-lu-la -

Now here they are on black velvet, in a parking lot in
Missouri -
rocking my soul with rock'n'roll, soulful harmony.

Jesus went back to heaven to be the King of Kings,
but I hear the King of Rock'n'Roll is still restlessly
roaming.

Go on home to Jesus, El - he's waiting there you'll find.
You two can jam on old gospel songs - them are the best
kind.

*A Greg Brown Encore-Songs Of Love, Lost, Lust-“Milk Of The Moon”

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Greg Brown performing "Better Days".

CD Review

Milk Of The Moon, Greg Brown, Red House Records, 2002

The first two paragraphs have been used in other reviews of folk musician/singer/songwriter Greg Brown’s work.

Greg Brown is a particular kind of folk singer who before I listened to his “Greg Brown-The Live One ” album reviewed elsewhere in this space I had not really paid attention to since the days of my early youth when I listened intently to Woody Guthrie whose songs were seemingly forged from the very heart of Americana. As a child of the urban folk revival of the 1960’s I got caught up in listening to the more political message songs provided by the likes of Bob Dylan or Phil Ochs. As a poet/singer/songwriter Greg has come out of the heartland of America, like Woody, in a fury to write and sing his tales of love, remembrance, tragedy, desperation and, on occasion, just pure whimsy. He is thus in very good company, and belongs there.

His songs evoke, under more modern conditions to be sure, the days gone by when the community spirit of small town life meant something. A strong bass voice grainy with the trials and tribulations of life lend authenticity to his words, as does strong guitar playing when necessary. Needless to say the variety of topics covered in his songs speak for themselves from Grandma's food cellars to vanishing Iowa family farms to sweaty nights of lovemaking entwined with the up and down battles of love and, of course, the ubiquitous bouts of fishing that gain more than a nod in his albums.

Outstanding here are “Smell Of Coffee”, the title track “Milk Of The Moon”, “Ashamed Of Our Love”, “Oh You”. As always Greg is on top when singing about the seamy side of life, love and the mysteries of human existence out in the heartland.


Smell of Coffee

Bouffant hairdo, ne'er-do-well
Warm the car up, perfume smell
Work is there when love is gone
Smell of coffee, crack of dawn

Pheasant clucking, ice cold dew
Backseat shotgun, frosty slough
Chevy coughing, let's move on
Smell of coffee, crack of dawn

Hey there, Benny, is this your home?
Railroad cinders, styrofoam
Train a-comin', where's Lost John?
Smell of coffee, crack of dawn

Blue blue window, factory
Big bad boss man can't find me
Boxes piled up, paycheck gone
Smell of coffee, crack of dawn

Woman works and man does too
Yellow paper, same old news
Forty years to cross the lawn
Smell of coffee, crack of dawn


Milk of the Moon

Morning is a siren, evening is a bust
Memories fade, pocketful of dust
I moan to you like a mourning dove
Mistakes are made along with love
On the day you opened up the door
I saw the future slip away, time is just a whore
If you can get any closer, oh please do
I can only dance when I dance with you

I'm drunk on moonmilk, I'm high up in the air
I know a woman she is silk there and there and there
With a kiss she wakes me up, she always leaves too soon
As she does she fills my cup with the milk of the moon

Open up the window, smell the rain
I kiss the pillow where your head has lain
Open up your wild and secret heart
And your flower, the tenderest part
I don't know when we'll meet again
Now will have to do 'til then
In a bed hot and wet like tears
We slept one night for years and years and years

I'm drunk on moonmilk, I'm high up in the air
I know a woman she is silk there and there and there
With a kiss she wakes me up, she always leaves too soon
As she does she fills my cup with the milk of the moon

Your gifts I'll cherish and I'll save
The look I see upon your face is the only thing I crave
When you're gone I'll try to get some rest
And dream you sleeping on my chest
I'll send you songs to carry you to sleep
Won't be so long we'll have this watch to keep
Loving you is the best I know of home
I'll be thinking of you hard hard hard as I open up my arms

I'm drunk on moonmilk, I'm high up in the air
Oh, woman, you are silk there and there and there
With a kiss you wake me up, you always leave too soon
As you go will you fill my cup with the milk of the moon?

Mud

Got a movie in my mind tonight
Grainy and jumpin', black and white
And I got my neck in close to yours
I can smell you and we're out of doors
You hold me close, I don't know
I hold you tight, I don't have to let go
In the dirt or somethin', somethin's wet
The sky is cloudy like the day we met
I can see through your eyes, things are big
Oh my heart is joy, things are big
Things are bigger, things are huge
Ah, the world comes in us like we want it to
I reach down slowly, down there someplace
Mmm, I get some mud, rub it on your face
And you do the same, and you kiss my blood
And here we are, ah, meeting in the mud
Ah, meeting in the mud
Yeah, meeting in the mud
Oh yeah, meeting in the mud
Yeah, yes, meeting in the mud.....


Ashamed of Our Love

Why were you ashamed of our love?
Why were you ashamed of our love?
Why were you ashamed of our love?
Why were you ashamed of our love?

Our love had room for everyone
Our love had room for everyone
Our love had room for everyone
Why were you ashamed of our love?

Why wouldn't you stand up for us?
Why wouldn't you stand up for us?
Our love had room for everyone
Why were you ashamed of our love?

Lies kill any beautiful thing
Why wouldn't you stand up for us?
Our love had room for everyone
Why were you ashamed of our love?


Steady Love

She wants your passion, your caress
She wants your hands on her and a soulful kiss
But she's lookin' for more than just that, son
Gotta be somethin' under all the good times and fun

Oh steady love, steady love
When the chips are down
The kind she can be sure of
Oh steady love

She might like flowers, might like a poem
Might like it better if you were home
And cooked with her and did a little dance
Where the kitchen is happy, love has a chance

Oh steady love, steady love
When the chips are down
The kind she can be sure of
Oh steady love

She's seen the cool boys hangin' around
With their sad dark eyes they never settle down
They might've written books or made CDs for the shelves
But they mostly just think about themselves

She wants steady love, steady love
When the chips are down
The kind she can be sure of
Oh steady love

When the kids are cryin' and the bills are due
And you wonder what you have gotten into
And you think the whole deal is not to be
Give her steady love, you'll find out how hot a woman can be

Steady love, steady love
When the chips are down
The kind she can be sure of
Oh steady love

I've heard men say, "Well look at that
She's such a babe, he's kinda dull, a little fat"
He must know something about kind and fair
When she needs somebody, the man is there

He gives her steady love, steady love
When the chips are down
The kind she can be sure of
Oh steady love

Mmmm, steady love
When the chips are down
The kind she can be sure of
Oh steady love

(Repeat, repeat) I can't stop!

*The Poet’s Game- The Music Of Folk’s Greg Brown- “the poet game”

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Greg Brown performing "Jesus And Elvis"

CD Review

the poet game, Greg Brown , Red House Records, 1994

Revised December 19, 2008

The first two paragraphs have been used in other reviews of folk musician/singer/songwriter Greg Brown’s work.

Greg Brown is a particular kind of folk singer who before I listened to his “Greg Brown-The Live One ” album reviewed elsewhere in this space I had not really paid attention to since the days of my early youth when I listened intently to Woody Guthrie whose songs were seemingly forged from the very heart of Americana. As a child of the urban folk revival of the 1960’s I got caught up in listening to the more political message songs provided by the likes of Bob Dylan or Phil Ochs. As a poet/singer/songwriter Greg has come out of the heartland of America, like Woody, in a fury to write and sing his tales of love, remembrance, tragedy, desperation and, on occasion, just pure whimsy. He is thus in very good company, and belongs there.

His songs evoke, under more modern conditions to be sure, the days gone by when the community spirit of small town life meant something. A strong bass voice grainy with the trials and tribulations of life lend authenticity to his words, as does strong guitar playing when necessary. Needless to say the variety of topics covered in his songs speak for themselves from Grandma's food cellars to vanishing Iowa family farms to sweaty nights of lovemaking entwined with the up and down battles of love and, of course, the ubiquitous bouts of fishing that gain more than a nod in his albums.

Outstanding here, although the whole album from start to finish is probably the highest quality that Greg attains in one album, are the lyrically rich title track “the poet game”, the seamy, steamy ‘ballingall hotel”, the nicely counterpoised (maybe) "jesus and elvis”, the elusiveness of “my new book”, and "driftless". As always Greg is on top when singing about the seamy side of life, love and the mysteries of human existence out in the heartland.

"The Poet Game"

Down by the river junior year
walking with my girl,
and we came upon a place
there in the tall grass where a couple
had been making love
and left the mark of their embrace.
I said to her, "Looks like they had some fun."
She said to me, "Let's do the same."
and still I taste her kisses
and her freckles in the sun
when I play the poet game.

A young man down in hill country
in the year of '22
went to see his future bride.
She lived in a rough old shack
that poverty blew through.
She invited him inside.
She'd been cooking, ashamed and feeling sad,
she could only offer him bread and her name -
Grandpa said that it was the best gift
a fella ever had
and he taught me the poet game.

I had a friend who drank too much
and played too much guitar -
and we sure got along.
Reel-to-reels rolled across
the country near and far
with letters poems and songs..
but these days he don't talk to me
and he won't tell me why.
I miss him every time i say his name.
I don't know what he's doing
or why our friendship died
while we played the poet game.

The fall rain was pounding down
on an old New Hampshire mill
and the river wild and high.
I was talking to her while leaves blew down
like a sudden chill -
there was wildness in her eyes.
We made love like we'd been waiting
all of our lives for this -
Strangers know no shame -
But she had to leave at dawn
and with a sticky farewell kiss
left me to play the poet game.

I watched my country turn into
a coast-to-coast strip mall
and I cried out in a song:
if we could do all that in thirty years,
then please tell me you all -
why does good change take so long?
Why does the color of your skin
or who you choose to love
still lead to such anger and pain?
And why do I think it's any help
for me to still dream of
playing the poet game?

Sirens wail above the fields -
another soul gone down -
another Sun about to rise.
I've lost track of my mistakes,
like birds they fly around
and darken half of my skies.
To all of those I've hurt -
I pray you'll forgive me.
I to you will freely do the same.
so many things I didn't see,
with my eyes turned inside,
playing the poet game.

I walk out at night to take a leak
underneath the stars -
oh yeah that's the life for me.
There's Orion and the Pleiades
and I guess that must be Mars -
all as clear as we long to be.
I've sung what I was given -
some was bad and some was good.
I never did know from where it came
and if I had it all to do again
I am not sure I would
play the poet game.


"Lately"

We closed that bar and we closed that town.
The sun looked different coming up than it did going
down.
That was long ago - do you still love me or do you
hate me?
I wouldn't know - I haven't seen you lately.

We could have died dancing in each other's arms
or driving home close and warm out through the
little farms,
or in the bed, holding on and shaking.
But we did not - and where you been lately?

I can see your eyes, so dark and knowing,
and I wonder where that distant train is going.
If I found you, would you smile - would you take me?
I only know I miss you so much lately.

*The Poet’s Game- The Music Of Folk’s Greg Brown- “44 &66”

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Greg Brown performing "Canned Goods".

CD Review

44&66, Greg Brown , Red House Records, 1984

Revised December 19, 2008

The first two paragraphs have been used in other reviews of folk musician/singer/songwriter Greg Brown’s work.

Greg Brown is a particular kind of folk singer who before I listened to his “Greg Brown-The Live One ” album reviewed elsewhere in this space I had not really paid attention to since the days of my early youth when I listened intently to Woody Guthrie whose songs were seemingly forged from the very heart of Americana. As a child of the urban folk revival of the 1960’s I got caught up in listening to the more political message songs provided by the likes of Bob Dylan or Phil Ochs. As a poet/singer/songwriter Greg has come out of the heartland of America, like Woody, in a fury to write and sing his tales of love, remembrance, tragedy, desperation and, on occasion, just pure whimsy. He is thus in very good company, and belongs there.

His songs evoke, under more modern conditions to be sure, the days gone by when the community spirit of small town life meant something. A strong bass voice grainy with the trials and tribulations of life lend authenticity to his words, as does strong guitar playing when necessary. Needless to say the variety of topics covered in his songs speak for themselves from Grandma's food cellars to vanishing Iowa family farms to sweaty nights of lovemaking entwined with the up and down battles of love and, of course, the ubiquitous bouts of fishing that gain more than a nod in his albums.

Outstanding here are the ironically evocative “Bozo’s In Love Again”, the heartland small town tribute “Early”, and the prophetic “Beatniks Gonna Rise Again”. As always Greg is on top when singing about the seamy side of life, love and the mysteries of human existence out in the heartland.


"Jesus & Elvis"

Jesus had some water, said "Wine'd be better yet".
Elvis picked up a guitar and made all women wet.

Elvis he died young - Jesus he died younger.
Elvis died of too much - Jesus died of hunger.

Jesus sang down through the ages: "Do like you'd have'em
do you".
Elvis rocked the universe with be-bop-a-lu-la -

Now here they are on black velvet, in a parking lot in
Missouri -
rocking my soul with rock'n'roll, soulful harmony.

Jesus went back to heaven to be the King of Kings,
but I hear the King of Rock'n'Roll is still restlessly
roaming.

Go on home to Jesus, El - he's waiting there you'll find.
You two can jam on old gospel songs - them are the best
kind.


"Ballingall Hotel"

I said I'd never come to this ugly old hotel again.
Baby, here I am.

I said I'd never knock again on # 22
Baby, how are you?

Some nights something grabs you and
you don't even know what it is.
Give me a kiss.

Leave that black slip on and dance just like you
did last time.
I'm so glad your plans for leaving fell through -
just like mine.

Ain't no air conditioning, the ceiling fan don't work
too well.
Guess we'll have to sweat it out again at the
Ballingal Hotel.

One night I knocked on the wrong door
and myself as an old man answered - so drunk
and so poor.

I said I'd never come again to this ugly old hotel -
but what the hell.

*The Poet’s Game- The Music Of Folk’s Greg Brown- “Slant 6 Mind”

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Greg Brown performing "Driftless"

CD Review

Slant 6 Mind, Greg Brown with Bo Ramsey, Red House Records, 1997

Revised December 19, 2008

The first two paragraphs have been used in other reviews of folk musician/singer/songwriter Greg Brown’s work.

Greg Brown is a particular kind of folk singer who before I listened to his “Greg Brown-The Live One ” album reviewed elsewhere in this space I had not really paid attention to since the days of my early youth when I listened intently to Woody Guthrie whose songs were seemingly forged from the very heart of Americana. As a child of the urban folk revival of the 1960’s I got caught up in listening to the more political message songs provided by the likes of Bob Dylan or Phil Ochs. As a poet/singer/songwriter Greg has come out of the heartland of America, like Woody, in a fury to write and sing his tales of love, remembrance, tragedy, desperation and, on occasion, just pure whimsy. He is thus in very good company, and belongs there.

His songs evoke, under more modern conditions to be sure, the days gone by when the community spirit of small town life meant something. A strong bass voice grainy with the trials and tribulations of life lend authenticity to his words, as does strong guitar playing when necessary. Needless to say the variety of topics covered in his songs speak for themselves from Grandma's food cellars to vanishing Iowa family farms to sweaty nights of lovemaking entwined with the up and down battles of love and, of course, the ubiquitous bouts of fishing that gain more than a nod in his albums.

Outstanding here are the song for his father, the evocative “Billy From The Hills”, Dusty Woods”, and “Hurt So Nice”. As always Greg is on top when singing about the seamy side of life, love and the mysteries of human existence out in the heartland.


"Brand New '64 Dodge"

Money comes out of Dad's billfold.
Hankies come out of Mom's purse.
The engine hardly makes a sound
even when you put it in reverse.
It's got a push-button transmission,hardtop convertible, 4-door.
It's November of '63
and the brand new Dodge is a '64.

And we're rolling slow down Main Street -
the asphalt and gravel crunch.
Church is finally over
and we're going to have our Sunday lunch.
And then I will play football
with my buddies down in park.
Later I'll dream about my girlfriend
as I lie alone in the dark.

She's got short red hair and blue eyes
and her swimsuit's also blue
and her little brother is retarded,
but Jesus loves him, too.
And Jesus loves our president,
even though he is a Catholic.
There's a lot for a boy to think about
as he walks along the railroad tracks.

And my sister won't get carsick
'cause we're going only half a mile
and the car still has that new car smell
and dad looks like he might smile
and the world is big and full of Autumn
and I'm hungry as can be
and we're in our brand new '64 Dodge
November of '63

"Boomtown"

Here come the artists with their intense faces,
with their need for money and quiet spaces.
They leave New York, they leave L.A..
Here they are - who knows how long they'll stay -

[chorus:]
It's a Boomtown
got another Boomtown
and it'll boom
just as long as boom has room.

Here come the tourists with their blank stares,
with their fanny packs - they are penny millionaires.
Something interesting happened here long time ago.
Now where people used to live their lives the restless
come and go.

[repeat chorus]

Nice to meet you, nice to see you
in a sheepskin coat made in Korea.
Welcome to the new age, the new century.
Welcome to a town with no real reason to be.

[repeat chorus]

The rich build sensitive houses and pass their staff around.
For the rest of us, it's trailers on the outskirts of town.
We carry them their coffee, wash their shiny cars,
hear all about how lucky we are
to be living in a ...

[repeat chorus]

The guy from California moves in and relaxes.
The natives have to move - they cannot pay the taxes.
Santa Fe has had it. Sedona has, too.
Maybe you'll be lucky - maybe your town will be the new...

[repeat chorus]

*The Poet’s Game- The Music Of Folk’s Greg Brown- “Solid Heart”

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Greg Brown performing "our Little Town"

Solid Heart: The In-Harmony Benefit Concert, Greg Brown with Dave Carter and Tracey Grammer, In-Harmony, 1999

Revised December 19, 2008

The first two paragraphs have been used in other reviews of folk musician/singer/songwriter Greg Brown’s work.

Greg Brown is a particular kind of folk singer who before I listened to his “Greg Brown-The Live One ” album reviewed elsewhere in this space I had not really paid attention to since the days of my early youth when I listened intently to Woody Guthrie whose songs were seemingly forged from the very heart of Americana. As a child of the urban folk revival of the 1960’s I got caught up in listening to the more political message songs provided by the likes of Bob Dylan or Phil Ochs. As a poet/singer/songwriter Greg has come out of the heartland of America, like Woody, in a fury to write and sing his tales of love, remembrance, tragedy, desperation and, on occasion, just pure whimsy. He is thus in very good company, and belongs there.

His songs evoke, under more modern conditions to be sure, the days gone by when the community spirit of small town life meant something. A strong bass voice grainy with the trials and tribulations of life lend authenticity to his words, as does strong guitar playing when necessary. Needless to say the variety of topics covered in his songs speak for themselves from Grandma's food cellars to vanishing Iowa family farms to sweaty nights of lovemaking entwined with the up and down battles of love and, of course, the ubiquitous bouts of fishing that gain more than a nod in his albums.

Outstanding in this benefit concert recording for In-Harmony, a foster care program, are the title track, “Solid Heart”, the old stand-by “Further In”, the comic, nicely paced, “I Must Be In Oregon”, and a great “rockin’ cover of the old country bluesman Mississippi Fred McDowell’s tune. “You’ve Got To Move” (also covered by The Rolling Stones). The late Dave Carter and Tracey Grammer are nice additions on a couple of tracks, especially the old madman Carter’s “Don’t Tread On Me”. They are worthy of separate review of their own work.


Cheapest Kind

We travelled Kansas and Missouri spreading the good news
A preachers family in our pressed clothes and worn out polished shoes
Momma fixed us soup beans and served them up by candlelight
She tucked us in at night
Oh she worried through many a sleepless night
Dad and me would stop by the store when the day was done
Standin at the counter he said "I forgot to get the peaches, son."
"What kind should I get?" I said to him there where he stood in line
And he answered just like I knew he would "Go and get the cheapest kind"

[chorus:]
But the love, the love, the love
It was not the cheapest kind
It was rich as, rich as, rich as ,rich as, rich as
Any you could ever find

I see the ghost of my grandfather from time to time
In some big city amongst the people all dressed so fine
He usually has a paper bag clutched real tight
His work clothes are dirty
He don't look at nobody in the eye
Oh he was little, he was wirey, and he was lots of fun
He was rocky as Ozark dirt that he come from
And they was raisin seven children on a little farm
In not the best of times
The few things that they got from the store
Was always just the cheapest kind

[repeat chorus]

Fancy houses with wealthy poeple I don't understand
I always wish I could live holdin on to my grandpa's hand
So he could lead me down that gravel road somewhere
To that little house where there's just enough supper
For whosever there
My people's hands and faces they are so dear to me
All I have to do is close my eyes and I see `em all so near to me
I have to cry I have to laugh
When I think of all the things that have drawn those lines
So many years of makin do with the cheapest kind

[repeat chorus twice]

Our Little Town

Now the railroad came generations ago
And the town grew up as the crops did grow
The crops grew well and the town did too
They say it's dyin now and there ain't a thing we can do
I don't have to read the news
Or hear it on the radio
I see it in the faces of everyone I know
The cost goes up
What we made comes down
What's gonna happen to our little town

The summer is full of thunder
The kids run and play
Momma got a new wrinkle
Poppa ain't got much to say
Rust grows along the railroad track
The young folks leave
They don't come back
And I don't have to read the news
Or hear it on the radio
I see it in the faces of everyone I know
The boards go up
The signs come down
What's gonna happen to our little town

Tom lost his farm
And we lost Tom
He left in the night
I don't know where he's gone
What he'd lost
He just couldn't face
What we're losin' can't be replaced
I don't have to read the news
Or hear it on the radio
I see it in the faces of everyone I know
The reason we're here
Is the farms around
So what's gonna happen to our little town

We've seen hard times
Many times before
Maybe this whole thing is just one more
It never was perfect
Maybe no one's to blame
To see it die like this
It's a god damned shame
And I don't have to read the news
Or hear it on the radio
I see it in the faces of everyone I know
The sun comes up
The sun goes down
But what's gonna happen to our little town

*The Poet’s Game- The Music Of Folk’s Greg Brown- “One More Goodnight Kiss”

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Greg Brown performing "Lately"

CD Review

One More Goodnight Kiss, Greg Brown, Red House Records, 1988

Revised December 19, 2008

The first two paragraphs have been used in other reviews of folk musician/singer/songwriter Greg Brown’s work.

Greg Brown is a particular kind of folk singer who before I listened to his “Greg Brown-The Live One ” album reviewed elsewhere in this space I had not really paid attention to since the days of my early youth when I listened intently to Woody Guthrie whose songs were seemingly forged from the very heart of Americana. As a child of the urban folk revival of the 1960’s I got caught up in listening to the more political message songs provided by the likes of Bob Dylan or Phil Ochs. As a poet/singer/songwriter Greg has come out of the heartland of America, like Woody, in a fury to write and sing his tales of love, remembrance, tragedy, desperation and, on occasion, just pure whimsy. He is thus in very good company, and belongs there.

His songs evoke, under more modern conditions to be sure, the days gone by when the community spirit of small town life meant something. A strong bass voice grainy with the trials and tribulations of life lend authenticity to his words, as does strong guitar playing when necessary. Needless to say the variety of topics covered in his songs speak for themselves from Grandma's food cellars to vanishing Iowa family farms to sweaty nights of lovemaking entwined with the up and down battles of love and, of course, the ubiquitous bouts of fishing that gain more than a nod in his albums.

Outstanding here are the songs of childhood remembrance like “Say A Little Prayer” and “Walking Down To Casey”. The struggle just to survive that I can, although a mere city boy, relate to in “Cheapest Kind”. The ode to everyone’s grandmother, city or country, farm or tenement, in “Canned Goods”. Can’t you just smell Grandma’s cooking as you listen , if only as an alternative to the routine at home. As a bonus the eerily beautiful lyrical poetry in song of “I Wish I Were A Painter” makes me wish that I could put some lyrics like those together, once.

I Wish I Was a Painter
lyrics by Ella Mae Brown

In these hills is every color,
every one but one or two.
If I knew how to paint pictures,
just think of what I could do.

[chorus:]
I wish I was a painter,
and could mix red, green and blue.
Oh, I wish I was a painter--
I'd paint a picture for you.

Blue sky is such a companion,
if you had some to hang on your wall,
then could you ever be sorry,
when night came nightly at all?

[repeat chorus]

And the seasons turning colors,
if I could paint Summer for you,
then in the deep of the Winter,
you could have some Summer too.

[repeat chorus]

Here in the hills of the Ozarks,
I've seen almost every hue.
And I just wish I could catch them,
I'd turn your wall into a view.

[repeat chorus]

Canned Goods

Well let the wild winter wind bellow and blow
I'm as warm as a July tomato

[chorus:]
There's peaches on the shelf, potatoes in the bin
Supper ready, everybody come on in
Taste a little of the summer
Taste a little of the summer
Taste a little of the summer
Grandma put it all in jars

Well there's a root cellar, fruit cellar down below
Watch your head now, and down we go

[repeat chorus]

Well maybe you are weary and you don't give a damn
I bet you never tasted her blackberry jam

[repeat chorus]

Oh she got magic in her, you know what I mean
She puts the sun and rain in with her beans

[repeat chorus]

What with the snow and the economy and everything
I think I'll just stay down here and eat until spring

[repeat chorus]

When I go down to see Grandma, I gain a lot a weight
With her dear hands she gives me plate after plate
She cans the pickles, sweet and dill
And the songs of the whip-or-will and the morning dew and the evening moon
I really gotta go down and see her soon
Cause the canned goods that I buy at the store
Ain't got the summer in em anymore
You bet Grandma as sure as you're born I'll take some more potatoes and
a thunder storm

[repeat chorus]

*The Poet's Game- The Early Work Of Folk's Greg Brown

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of song writer Richard Thompson performing his song "1952 Vincent Black Lightning". Sorry I could not find a cover done by Greg Brown on this song.

CD Review

Greg Brown-The Live One, Greg Brown, Red House Records, 1991

Revised December 19, 2008

Greg Brown is a particular kind of folk singer who before I listened to his “Greg Brown-The Live One ” album reviewed elsewhere in this space I had not really paid attention to since the days of my early youth when I listened intently to Woody Guthrie whose songs were seemingly forged from the very heart of Americana. As a child of the urban folk revival of the 1960’s I got caught up in listening to the more political message songs provided by the likes of Bob Dylan or Phil Ochs. As a poet/singer/songwriter Greg has come out of the heartland of America, like Woody, in a fury to write and sing his tales of love, remembrance, tragedy, desperation and, on occasion, just pure whimsy. He is thus in very good company, and belongs there.

His songs evoke, under more modern conditions to be sure, the days gone by when the community spirit of small town life meant something. A strong bass voice grainy with the trials and tribulations of life lend authenticity to his words, as does strong guitar playing when necessary. Needless to say the variety of topics covered in his songs speak for themselves from Grandma's food cellars to vanishing Iowa family farms to sweaty nights of lovemaking entwined with the up and down battles of love and, of course, the ubiquitous bouts of fishing that gain more than a nod in his albums.

Outstanding here are “Billy From The Hills” a tribute to his father, “Boomtown” a quasi-political song about turning the American Mountain West into the same kind of upscale tourist trap/strip mall as we find on the coasts and the inevitable paean to love’s twists and turns in “You Drive Me Crazy”. I want to pay special attention to "1952 Vincent Black Lightning" the semi-tragic story of outlaw motorcycle love. I would argue that this is one of the great modern love songs. If you grew up in the 1950's and early 1960's you are familiar with this theme in the pop music genre. Christ, you could not get away from the theme of a dying young lover who passed away in every conceivable manner, although car wrecks seemed to have been the most popular way.

Here Brown turns this whole concept around in his tribute to the bike and to the outlaw who ultimately is redeemed by giving the keys to his cherished bike to his Red Molly. If that is not modern love then nothing is. All to his steady guitar beat that gives one the feeling of a motorcycle going through its gears. I have since found out, and correct me if I am wrong, that Greg did not write this song, although I will bet many a dollar that he wishes that he had. (Hats off to Richard Thompson for his efforts). Moreover, this is exactly his kind of song and his performance makes it his own. Listen on.


ARTIST: Richard Thompson
TITLE: 1952 Vincent Black Lightning
Lyrics and Chords

Said Red Molly to James that's a fine motorbike
A girl could feel special on any such like
Said James to Red Molly, well my hat's off to you
It's a Vincent Black Lightning, 1952
And I've seen you at the corners and cafes it seems
Red hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme
And he pulled her on behind
And down to Box Hill they did ride

/ A - - - D - / - - - - A - / : / E - D A /
/ E - D A - / Bm - D - / - - - - A - - - /

Said James to Red Molly, here's a ring for your right hand
But I'll tell you in earnest I'm a dangerous man
I've fought with the law since I was seventeen
I robbed many a man to get my Vincent machine
Now I'm 21 years, I might make 22
And I don't mind dying, but for the love of you
And if fate should break my stride
Then I'll give you my Vincent to ride

Come down, come down, Red Molly, called Sergeant McRae
For they've taken young James Adie for armed robbery
Shotgun blast hit his chest, left nothing inside
Oh, come down, Red Molly to his dying bedside
When she came to the hospital, there wasn't much left
He was running out of road, he was running out of breath
But he smiled to see her cry
And said I'll give you my Vincent to ride

Says James, in my opinion, there's nothing in this world
Beats a 52 Vincent and a red headed girl
Now Nortons and Indians and Greeveses won't do
They don't have a soul like a Vincent 52
He reached for her hand and he slipped her the keys
He said I've got no further use for these
I see angels on Ariels in leather and chrome
Swooping down from heaven to carry me home
And he gave her one last kiss and died
And he gave her his Vincent to ride

"I Want My Country Back"- The Music Of Greg Brown

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Greg Brown performing "I Want My Country Back".

CD REVIEW

Greg Brown: In The Hills Of California- Live At The Kate Wolf Music Festival 1997-2003, Greg Brown, Red House Records, 2004

The last time that the name Greg Brown, singer/songwriter and free-wheeling homespun philosopher appeared in this space was just recently as I found myself publicly ‘flirting’, via cyberspace of course, with his wife the also accomplished singer/songwriter Iris Dement, my Arkie angel (See my review of her “Infamous Angel” CD). It is all Greg’s fault, in any case. I was ‘introduced’ to Iris on his tribute album “Driftless” where she did a cover of “Jimmie Rodgers Going Home” (complete with yodel at the end). So to be absolutely aboveboard and fair I find it necessary to review some of his work

Greg Brown is a particular kind of folk singer who before I listened to his “Greg Brown-The Live One ” album reviewed elsewhere in this space I had not really paid attention to since the days of my early youth when I listened intently to Woody Guthrie whose songs were seemingly forged from the very heart of Americana. As a child of the urban folk revival of the 1960’s I got caught up in listening to the more political message songs provided by the likes of Bob Dylan or Phil Ochs. As a poet/singer/songwriter Greg has come out of the heartland of America, like Woody, in a fury to write and sing his tales of love, remembrance, tragedy, desperation and, on occasion, just pure whimsy. He is thus in very good company, and belongs there.

His songs evoke, under more modern conditions to be sure, the days gone by when the community spirit of small town life meant something. A strong bass voice grainy with the trials and tribulations of life lend authenticity to his words, as does strong guitar playing when necessary. Needless to say the variety of topics covered in his songs speak for themselves from Grandma's food cellars to vanishing Iowa family farms to sweaty nights of lovemaking entwined with the up and down battles of love and, of course, the ubiquitous bouts of fishing that gain more than a nod in his albums.

In this CD collection we are treated to another look at many of those above-mentioned topics via Greg’s performances over several years (1997-2004) at the annual Kate Wolf Festival held in California since 1996. Thus, if one is unfamiliar with Greg Brown, one can get a full range of his work, some of his best work, as he pays honor by his performances to Kate Wolf, one of the post-1960’s most influential folk performers, whose work is still widely covered by contemporary folk singers. Moreover, the group of musicians that back him up on many of the tracks is superior, especially guitarist Nina Gerber.

So what is good here? “Wash My Eyes” and “Two Little Feet” work on Disc One, as does the controlled anger of “I Want My Country Back” and a rocking “I Shall Not Be Moved” to highlight his political perspective. On Disc Two the “Poet’s Game” is always a winner (especially that line about the strip malls and the one about that one night stand lady friend up in New Hampshire) as is “Where Is Maria?” and “Your Town Now”.

So much for the music review. Here is the real reason I wrote this frantic review though. I looked at the pictures on the liner notes and noticed that old Greg has been doing some weight lifting or something. He looks like he could play tight end for the Chicago Bears. Hey, Greg male folk singers are suppose to be scrawny and looking malnourished not healthy and ready to do bodily injury if you mess with their women. All this is by way of saying - all that stuff about ‘flirting’ with Iris in any way, shape or form was just fooling around. Okay?


"Greg Brown- Two Little Feet lyrics"

two little feet to get me 'cross the mountain
two little feet to carry me away into the woods
two little feet, big mountain, and a
cloud comin' down cloud comin' down cloud comin' down

I hear the voice of the ancient ones
chanting magic words from a different time
well there is no time there is only this rain
there is no time, that's why I missed my plane

John Muir walked away into the mountains
in his old overcoat a crust of bread in his pocket
we have no knowledge and so we have stuff and
stuff with no knowledge is never enough to get you there
it just won't get you there

a culture exploded into knickknacks and memories
Eagle and Bear trinkets I don't think it's good
old man what am I trying to say it's a
it's a messed up world but I love it anyway

two little feet to get me 'cross the city
my little hand to knock upon your door
my little thing for your little thing
and a big love to lift us up once more to the mountain
lift us up

tumble us like scree let us holler out our freedom like a
like a wolf across a valley like a kid lost in a game
no time no name gonna miss that plane again
and I'm gonna stay here with you baby and kiss you to a good dream
I'm goin' kiss you
kiss you like you like it

I got two little feet to get me across the mountain
two little feet to carry me away into the woods
two little feet big mountain and a
cloud comin' down cloud comin' down cloud comin' down

*An Encore, My Arky Angel- The Music Of Iris DeMent-"My Life"

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Iris DeMent performing "He Reached Down".

CD Review

My Life, Iris DeMent, Warner Brothers, 1994

Well, everyone by now knows that I love Iris Dement (see review of her “Infamous Angel”) so we need not get back on that track. I am, however, due to that unrequited love, in the process trying to find every Iris CD I can get my hands on. That search brings me to this Warner Brother produced CD from 1994 “My Life”. Does this effort measure up to the others? No. Does it have any songs with the power of “Walking Home Alone”, “A Wall In Washington”, “These Hills Of Home” or “After Laughter”. Hell no. I believe that it is probably due to the fact that it is a little over-produced.

Iris’ voice left with a simple guitar, or better yet, piano as accompaniment can carry her rich and thoughtful lyrics. Again, as is her forte she sings of loves lost (or misunderstood), spiritual longing (she might argue religious but I will not quibble) and those long ago formed and fastened roots to family, home and hearth. Although no song here took my breath away “You’ve Done Nothing Wrong” was evocative. “Childhood Memories” was fine and also evoked a response in me to my very different childhood.

The winner here though is clearly “Easy’s Getting Harder Every Day”. The story line (Is it somewhat autobiographical?) and Iris’ Arkie twang drive home a very strong message about the hard struggle to keep one’s head up that many, too many people face on a day to day basis. Oh, yes. Iris, don’t forget that proposal I made in my review of “Infamous Angel” if you tire of Greg. It is still on the table.






LIFELINE- IRIS DEMENTFlariella Records - 2004
I'VE GOT THAT OLD TIME RELIGION (Hurdist Milsap)
Stamps-Baxter Music, (BMI)

I’m glad Jesus came, glory to His name oh what a Friend is He
He so freely gave, His own life to save. From bonds of sins set free.

CHORUS
And I’ve got that old time religion in my heart
And its way down inside.
I’ve got that new kind of feeling in my heart
Real love abides
Nobody knows what it means to me
Nobody knows but my God and me
I’ve got that old time religion in my heart
And it’s way down inside.

What a joy to know one who loves us so
He is so kind and true
He has changed my life from all sin and strife
He’ll do the same for you.

BLESSED ASSURANCE (Fanny J. Crosby)
Public Domain

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
O what a fortaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

ChorusThis is my story, this is my song, Praising my Saviour all the day long;This is my story, this is my song, Praising my Saviour all the day long;
Perfect submission, perfect delight, Visions of rapture now burst on my sight.Angels descending bring from above, Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.
Perfect submission, all is at rest, I in my Saviour am happy and blest.Watching and waiting, looking above, Filled with His Goodness, lost in His love
FILL MY WAY WITH LOVE (George W. Sebren)Public DomainLet me walked blessed Lord, in the way Thou hast gone, Leading straight to the land above;Giving cheer ev'rywhere, to the sad and the lone, Fill my way ev'ry day with loveChorusFill my way ev'ry day with love (with love), As I walk with the heavn'ly Dove;Let me go all the while, with a song and a smile, Fill my way ev'ry day with love.
Keep me close to the side of my Saviour and Guide, Let me never in darkness rove;Keep my path free from wrath, and my soul satisfied, Fill my way eve'ry day with love.
Soon the race will be o'er and I'll travel no more, But abide in my home above;Let me sing blessed King, all the way to the shore, Fill my way ev'ry day with love.


LET THE MYSTERY BE (Iris DeMent)
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP
Infamous Angel

Everybody's wonderin' what and where they they all came from
everybody's worryin' 'bout where they're gonna go
when the whole thing's done
but no one knows for certain
and so it's all the same to me
I think I'll just let the mystery be

Some say once you're gone you're gone forever
and some say you're gonna come back
Some say you rest in the arms of the Saviour
if in sinful ways you lack
Some say that they're comin' back in a garden
bunch of carrots and little sweet peas
I think I'll just let the mystery be

Everybody's wonderin' what and where they they all came from
everybody's worryin' 'bout where they're gonna go
when the whole thing's done
but no one knows for certain
and so it's all the same to me
I think I'll just let the mystery be

Some say they're goin' to a place called Glory
and I ain't saying it ain't a fact
but I've heard that I'm on the road to purgatory
and I don't like the sound of that
I believe in love and I live my life accordingly
but I choose to let the mystery be

Everybody is wondering what and where they they all came from
everybody is worryin' 'bout where they're gonna go
when the whole thing's done
but no one knows for certain
and so it's all the same to me
I think I'll just let the mystery be
I think I'll just let the mystery be



THESE HILLS (Iris DeMent)
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

Far away I've traveled
to stand once more alone
and hear my memories echo
through these hills that I call home

As a child I roamed this valley
I watched the seasons come and go
I spent many hours dreaming
on these hills that I call home

The wind is rushing through the valley
and I don't feel so all alone
When I see the dandelions blowing
across the hills that I call home

Like the flowers I am fading
into my setting sun
Brother and sister passed before me
Mama and Daddy they've long since gone

The wind is rushing through the valley
and I don't feel so all alone
When I see the dandelions blowing
across the hills that I call home
These are the hills that I call home



HOTTER THAN MOJAVE IN MY HEART (Iris DeMent)
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

Well, I've heard them say there's one for everybody
and I just knew somehow that you'd be the one for me
'cause making love with you's not just a hobby
no, it's the flame that burnt the forest down in me

And darling was it day or was it nighttime
were them whippoorwills a-moaning through the trees,
through the trees
I don't remember just what you said but ooh, right from the start
you made me hotter than Mojave in my heart

Well baby, I could stay this way forever
just passing time at ninety-nine degrees
'cause loving you's my favorite kind of weather
oh, forever let the flame burn down in me

And I'll not prepare my heart for the change of season
and I'll whip old Winter Wind there if she blows, if she blows
Well, God bless the day that you came along
and you tipped my apple cart
and you made me hotter than Mojave in my heart

And I'll not prepare my heart for the change of season
and I'm a-gonna whip old Winter Wind there if she blows, if she blows
Well, God bless the day that you came along
and you tipped my apple cart
you made me hotter than Mojave in my heart
Now it's hotter than Mojave in my heart



WHEN LOVE WAS YOUNG (Iris DeMent)
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

Look at you, look at me
my heart breaks as I read our sad story
Never thought that I'd be
here with you wishing I was free
I never dreamed today would come
when love was young

There was nothing I would not do
for the chance to see your face
How could I have known back then
that today I'd hesitate
When you hold me in your arms
I don't yearn for that charm
I never dreamed today would come
when love was young

Look at how our curtain fell
Guess it's true only time can tell
'bout an ending
Kids are grown, we've had our day
Guess it's time now to go away
I never dreamed today would come
when love was young

There was nothing I would not do
for the chance to see your face
How could I have known back then
that today I'd hesitate
When you hold me in your arms
I don't yearn for that charm
I never dreamed today would come
when love was young

I never dreamed today would come
when love was young



OUR TOWN (Iris DeMent)
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

And you know the sun's settin' fast
and just like they say nothing good ever lasts
Well, go on now and kiss it goodbye but hold on to your lover
'cause your heart's bound to die
Go on now and say goodbye to our town, to our town
Can't you see the sun's settin' down on our town, on our town
goodnight

Up the street beside that red neon light
that's where I met my baby on one hot summer night
He was the tender and I ordered a beer
It's been forty years and I'm still sitting here

But you know the sun's settin' fast
and just like they say nothing good ever lasts
Well, go on now and kiss it goodbye but hold on to your lover
'cause your heart's bound to die
Go on now and say goodbye to our town, to our town
Can't you see the sun's settin' down on our town, on our town
goodnight

It's here I had my babies and I had my first kiss
I've walked down Main Street in the cold morning mist
Over there is where I bought my first car
it turned over once but then it never went far

And I can see the sun settin' fast
and just like they say nothing good ever lasts
Well, go on now and kiss it goodbye but hold on to your lover
'cause your heart's bound to die
Go on now and say goodbye to our town, to our town
Can't you see the sun's settin' down on our town, on our town
goodnight

I buried my Mama and I buried my Pa
They sleep up the street beside that pretty brick wall
I bring them flowers about every day
but I just gotta cry when I think what they'd say

If they could see how the sun's settin' fast
and just like they say nothing good ever lasts
Well, go on now and kiss it goodbye but hold on to your lover
'cause your heart's bound to die
Go on now and say goodbye to our town, to our town
Can't you see the sun's settin' down on our town, on our town
goodnight

Now I sit on the porch and watch the lightning-bugs fly
but I can't see too good, I got tears in my eyes
I'm leaving tomorrow but I don't wanna go
I love you my town, you'll always live in my soul

But I can see the sun's settin' fast
and just like they say nothing good ever lasts
Well, go on I gotta kiss you goodbye but I'll hold to my lover
'cause my heart's 'bout to die
Go on now and say goodbye to my town, to my town
Can't you see the sun's settin' down on my town, on my town
Goodnight, goodnight