Just before the accident I felt something break. The wheel spun away. I came to in a lake. The sky did not look right to me, the moon was upside down. Schools of shiny fish played hide-and-seek in the clouds. The water was cold, and I started to tremble. I hadn’t felt so lonesome in as long as I remember.

Let go — it’s okay. Heavy heart, Moonlight Lake. Let go — it’s okay. I forgive you.

I remember feeling like my life had been worthless. I dimly saw your pretty face above the shimmering surface. Were you crying? Girl, I’m sorry. You know I couldn’t stop. Add it to the list of all the virtuous things I’m not. Bye bye bye, it’s my turn to cry. I’ll never get a chance to set this right before I die.

Let go — it’s okay. Heavy heart, Moonlight Lake. Let go — it’s okay. I forgive you.

Glug, glug, glug, glug, glug, glug, glug, all the way down.

I sank quickly to the bottom of the watery sky. The mud sucked me under and I thought I had died. The fishes swam away, and I bounced off the wall. Sprawled out flat on my face, passed out cold in the hall. Did you carry me to bed? I didn’t mean to put you through it. The water wasn’t water it was whiskey and I knew it.

Let go — it’s okay. Heavy heart, Moonlight Lake. Let go — it’s okay. I forgive you.

Thank God for You

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Oh baby, how’d you find me in time to save me? Oh baby, I adore you. I know I’m crazy, but still, but still, thank God for you.

Oh baby, we’ll go dancing, or maybe swimming out at the lake.

But whatever we do, it’s just me and you. Wear that pink dress and your cowboy boots. Baby, I’m a mess, but you’re so cute, every morning when I wake up in your arms I just thank God for you.

Stranger things happen when hell breaks loose, so how would you like it? (Bear with me.)

I hear seagulls. I smell the ocean outside our window. Oh baby.

Bottom Drawer

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I saw on TV last night where some guy bought a painting at a yard sale for five dollars. It was worth much more than that, and I don’t wake up and cry no more. I guess I’m getting over her.

The fog was dense last Sunday. it broke an hour after dawn, revealing half the town still drunk and curled up on the lawn, and I don’t throw up Jim Beam no more. I guess I’m getting over her.

The bottom drawer’s still broken (baby, oh baby) and full of junk I never use (sweet baby, I miss you) but even so I can’t go near (my baby, I’m sorry). It’s like some kind of bruise (I miss you — won’t you come home?).

And I don’t wake up and cry no more. I don’t throw up Jim Beam no more. I don’t drive by where she lives anymore, and I don’t give a damn who she loves anymore. I guess I’m getting over her.

…

Recorded by Buzz Moran.

Come Home With Me

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There’ll come a time, we’re all gonna grow wings and fly away, so come home with me. Come home with me.

Roses and wine and other delights await thee, so come home with me. Come home with me.

This valley is mine. The clouds roll down to the tree line. The passage of time is only the trick of a troubled mind. So come home with me. Come home with me.

…

Recorded by Buzz Moran.

Live, solo and looping.

In 2006 and 2007, I toured the US playing music, and it sounded like this:

All Along the Way
Jericho
Where Did I Go?
Hi-Test
Carry It Away

I traveled with my upright bass, guitar, violin, banjo and Boss LoopStation. Yes, I looped back then. I’d set up a simple rhythm by thumping and scratching the body of the bass, or something like that, and then I’d grab the guitar or violin and play along and sing.

I’ve since decided that looping is bourgeois and counter-revolutionary, and I don’t do it anymore, even though I love using words like “bourgeois” and “counter-revolutionary” when talking about effects pedals, or kittens, or anything — I just like those words.

But I digress:

I’ve seen many loopers over the past couple of years, and the thing that began to trouble me is this: Looping is too often a quick and easy substitute for either A) getting a good band together, or B) having the skill and presence to hold the attention of an audience with nothing but an instrument and your voice.

The loop pedal is like Instant Awesome In A Box. It’s too easy. It’s cheating.

solo Of course, there are exceptions. I’ve seen several acts making remarkable music with loop pedals, including Vicki Brown here in Tucson. But the innovators are, as always, in the tiny minority. Most of the time it just seems like that Mad TV sketch with Stuart Larkin saying “look what I can do.”

So I figure when I can hold a room spellbound with just an instrument and my voice, maybe I get to loop, but until then I’ll just keep practicing and save money on batteries.

Meanwhile, here’s an album’s worth of live recordings made at the Hole In the Wall in Austin, Texas back in 2007. I don’t hate what I did, mind you. In fact, I think it’s pretty good, and I’m glad to have a decent recording of it. I just didn’t want to keep rolling down that path any longer.

I cannot for the life of me remember the name of the man in the house who had the minidisc player going, but I thank him.