The majesty of Bajo Turbato has finally been captured on video, and was augmented at the time by our friends in the Tucson Casual Social Club.
That’s Connor Gallaher, Will Elliot and Clay Coweek on guitars, and Andrew Collberg on drums.
Why’s that cigarette taste so good? Dunno dunno dunno. Why can’t I do like I ought to should? Dunno dunno dunno. Even last night I was something of an idiot, drinking until something broke. Woke up with blood in my hair … Dunno dunno dunno.
Why do women make me feel so bad? Dunno dunno dunno. Making me remember what I used to have. Dunno dunno dunno. Even last night I was something of an idiot, drinking and carrying on, crying all night at your kitchen table over everything that I’d done wrong.
Why can’t I be the man that you wanted? Dunno dunno dunno. Why do I act so backward and stunted? Dunno dunno dunno. Even last night I was something of an idiot, drinking alone in my room, looking at your pictures and reading your letters, and smelling your perfume.
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This was the first song I recorded in my new house in Tucson, AZ. The drum sounds are all made by slapping and beating the body of the upright bass, as I hadn’t moved my drums from Texas yet.
I’m the loser that lives at the bottom of the hill, the very hill that made a loser out of me, and everything I want becomes everything I hate. I’m driving on expired Texas plates.
Eleven million suckers just like me, packed in from the desert to the edge of the sea. I thought that I might join them, but it’s too late. I’m driving on expired Texas plates.
The folks up on the hill have got it made. The air is cool and the palm trees sway. They kneel out on the terrace at night and pray for the absence of rain, for a good hard rain will wash them all away.
I’ve been in first gear since half past three in the shadow of the hill that made a loser out of me. Someone call my baby, I’m gonna be late — I got pulled over in Toluca Lake — where’s the gold in the Golden State? I’m driving on expired Texas plates.
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The band was Gadjo Bango. I played guitar, violin and banjo on this recording. Liz Pappademas played accordion. Jeremy Bruch played drums. Michael Hoffer played the tuba. Buzz Moran recorded and mixed.
A rose in your hand, carry it away. My hair in a ring, carry it away. Every little thing, carry it away. Carry it away my love. My strong right hand, carry it away. My picture in a frame, carry it away. My last name, carry it away. Carry it away my love.
A sigh of love, carry it away. All that is mine, carry it away. Leave nothing behind, carry it away. Carry it away my love. The bird in my tree, carry it away. The way I’ve changed, carry it away. The credit and the blame, carry it away. Carry it away my love.
This little prayer, carry it away. A ribbon for your hair, carry it away. The very air, carry it away. Carry it away my love. This little poem, carry it away. My love, my own, carry it away. Just don’t forget to bring all these things back home when you carry it away, my love.
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It was me that forgot to bring all these things back home.
We can pack your troubles with us, all along the way. Strong to carry all you give us, all along the way. Who’s that dancing behind the curtain? Oh my, Oh I can’t be certain. But a fire will light the sky, all along the way.
Dirty clothes and accusations, all along the way. Back door cataract machinations, all along the way. Little demons with their fiddles … oh my, oh I’m in the middle, but I love that tune they play, all along the way.
Oh my oh my it’s hot in here. Oh my oh my it’s freezing. Oh my oh my, by the birds in the sky you know we’re almost home.
Set one up for the One-Eyed Father, all along the way. It’s blood for oil and it’s oil for water, all along the way. There’s no pattern in the cloth we weave, but oh my, oh I still believe in the dead man’s map and the big black “X” I carry all along the way.
Oh my oh my it’s hot in here. Oh my oh my it’s freezing. Oh my oh my, by the birds in the sky you know we’re almost home.
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This song was recorded by Buzz Moran.