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Shadows Dancing, moonlight romancing
Blue velvet nighttime sky
Stars are twinkling (night, night)
I keep thinking
About those dark blue shadows...
I've been too long in this make-believe town
Living on a hill down by the bay
What do you fantasize in this make-believe town?
Living on a hill down by the bay....
Chasing moonbeams (at night) dreams of mermaids
The streetlamp outside knows all the places that I've been
Singin' a fancy (dancy) dancin' tune
to keep myself from SHOUTING....
I've been too long in this moonpie town
Hoppin' a train in the morning rain (early rain)
Why do you fantasize in this moonpie town?
Living on the hill down by the bay...
Shadows Dancing, moonlight romancing
Blue velvet nighttime sky
Stars are twinkling (night, night)
I keep thinking
About those dark blue shadows...
I've been too long in this make-believe town
Living on the hill down by the bay
What do you fantasize in this make-believe town?
Living on the hill down by the bay.....
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Words by Budd McLean...with a little tweaking from CLWJ :-)
gmacl© 1988
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Tolstoy, the Joseph Boy he was the king of smooth
I close my eyes, see him lead the Conga line after Midnight
Down on the avenue
Down town, on the avenue
Down town, on the avenue
Thomas Wolfe said, "you can never go home again"
But when I called Momma Pat she said
"He's home again, he's down on the avenue
with Brady and John and his friends."
Down town, on the avenue
Down town, on the avenue
Peter, Paul and Mimi in the boxcar
making music on paint cans and auto parts.
Peter said, I don't need a 1000$ guitar,
I can make my music on paint cans and auto parts.
Down town, on the avenue
Down town, on the avenue
There was a Ghost, a gypsy with a tattoo,
Aboriginals and Loppybogami showed up too.
Mutant Speed was light speed, Catt was at the Zoo.
Down town, on the avenue
Down town, on the avenue
The Purple Christian scared Crazy Joe
He leapt to his feet and through the window he flew.
Chamber and bluegrass, flies showed up too.
Down town, on the avenue
Down town, on the avenue
Somehow this "it can't be done" story has no end
Because as Harry said, "All my life's a circle" with many bends.
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When I was young, no peace could I find
The one I loved so true was always on my mind
I had no gold, no mansion big and fine
But I would own the world if she were mine
Her hair soft and golden, like the Southern sky
The beauty in her heart lights up the money night
She has the ways of a lady true and a fine lady fair
All the men called her name but she didn't care
She knew I was her prince and someday I would be the king
She told the stars shine on my love,
Light his pathway, lead him home to me
Oh Lord above
I will wait a million years
For the one I love.
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Margaret is smoking those stinky little French cigarettes
that smell like tar,
Barry is smoking the strings off his pink paisley guitar.
Dweird is drinking black coffee he calls champagne,
And we are all wondering if we will ever feel this way again.
The wind whispers oh so softly down the avenue of pain,
The poets wax poetic words and nobody melts in the rain,
And we are all wondering if we will ever pass this way again.
They write their poetry and sing songs about hopping old freight trains,
on their way to their dreams.
And all the while wondering if they will ever pass this way again.
All night long we sing our songs on our way to the morning sun.
Never caring if we get lost while we're on this run.
And we are wondering if we will pass this way again.
Some nights we hold each other like lost children of war
that was fought with a why or what for.
And we are wondering if will will ever pass this way again.
So the sun has come and gone a million times since then.
We find ourselves with tears of years passing in the wind.
And we are wondering if we will ever pass this way again.
So Josie blew out the candles and The Man shut us down
and we all wandered off somewhere to other towns.
And we are wishing we could feel that way again.
(Good night my precious children, and remember:
like Harry said, "all my life's a circle..." I love you one all all.)
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5. |
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Lucy drove the Cadillac, Jean drove the Ford
Bob's in the Nova so he wouldn't get bored
Bob waved down the girl in the Mustang Ford
Get a ride, baby? She said hop in, handsome, get on board
Ride, Ride Captain ride ride, ride captain ride
oooooohhh
Kristin and Kristen in downtown Covington
Lookin' for the Ghost to have a little fun
Said, "have you seen the fool?" She said, "not tonight.
I saw him last night in Baton Rouge with Big Foot Clyde"
Ride, Ride Captain ride ride, ride captain ride
oooooohhh
So if you're out looking on a Saturday night
Look up on the ridge a little to the right
The right reverend Clyde is on fire tonight
Nawlins, Covington, downtown Baton Rouge
Ride, Ride Captain ride ride, ride captain ride
oooooohhh
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6. |
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I got empty pockets and holes in my boots
No money in the bank, like an owl without a hoot
Tender mercy doesn’t seem to know my name
I struck out before I got in the game
But I keep trying to win, I may be down again
But I won’t give up ,trying to win
I feel like a duck without a quack, like smoke without a stark
Like a train without a track, like a front without a back
Like a dad without a doo, like one without a two
Like me without you.
But I keep trying to win, I may be down again
But I won’t give up ,trying to win
I am a Mack without a knife, like a soul without a life
Like a nick without a knack, like paddy without a whack
Like a sea without a shore, like a room without a door
Like a candle without a flame, like a man without a name
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I'm stand-in' on the corner of these mean and lonely streets
Ego tucked in my pocket, my heart out on my sleeve.
Looking' for a lover but my mind is fast asleep
I see a lot of pretty women, but they don't see me.
I'm a soldier of misfortune in this war on misery
I would never do to a woman what that woman did to me
I would never do to a woman what that woman did to me.
I sat down on the park bench just the other day
Thinkin' about all of love's mistakes I've made.
Wonderin' why the rules don't fit the game
The questions now are different, but the answers are the same.
I'm a soldier of misfortune in this war on misery
I would never do to a woman what that woman did to me
I would never do to a woman what that woman did to me.
Now it's too late for alibis or apologies
She is on the quiet side of a long lost memory
She says "it was the atmosphere"
But I know it was me...because
I'm a soldier of misfortune in this war on misery
I would never do to a woman what that woman did to me
I would never do to a woman what that woman did to me.
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8. |
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I can stop the bullets with my body,
I can stop the killing with my brain
I can stop the bigotry and the pain
But I can't stop the rain
No, I can't stop the rain
I have tried time and time again
But I can't stop the rain
You can't kill a dream with a bullet
You can't kill a prayer with a knife
You can't kill a though with your name on it
And you can't stop the rain
No no no, you can't stop the rain
You can't stop the rain
We can build a world where children can play
We can build a home where love can stay
We can build a room where we can pray
But we can't stop the rain
No no no, we can't stop the rain
Stop the rain, stop the rain
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9. |
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70 years ago there was no internet, no television, no computers,
Entertainment venues were very limited.
The major form of nighttime family fun was the radio.
It had a big green eye that glowed and hummed and hissed until someone found a station.
My grandfather had a radio that spanned the globe,
and when the living room was aglow in the darkness,
Mary Alice, my Grandfather and I would take off on a magic carpet ride all around the world.
The first thing that took off was our imagination.
We saw, in our mind’s eye, those faraway places
as clearly as the picture on a 55 inch LED television.
Join me now….
close your eyes, and we’ll span the globe on my Grandfather’s radio…..
Ohhhh-Ohhh-Oooooh
Ohhhh-Ohhh-Oooooh
Ohhhh-Ohhh-Oooooh
Ohhhh-Ohhh-Oooooh
We listened to China, Canada and Mexico
and of course way down under in Australia, Grandfather’s favourite place to go.
He called it a walkabout on the waves of the radio…
Those days came and went at the speed of sound,
There’s no time today to just sit and listen to the world go ‘round on the radio.
Grandfather’s gone now,
and Mary Alice has moved away.
She lives now in Brisbane, way down in Australia.
She called me yesterday from Australia to say,
“It’s just like Grandfather said it would be…
with koalas, and wallabies and Aboriginals….
….and the roos…and the joeys…”
She wants us to come visit her in Australia
and bring Grandfather’s radio.
We’ll sit and listen to the radio and away we’ll go….
So I’ll set sail tomorrow for Brisbane….Brisbane, Australia.
And in that steamer there’s a trunk with the radio…Grandfather’s radio….
Perhaps we can listen to America on his radio.
Now, Grandfather never saw Australia….except on his radio……
Mary Alice, Grandfather and I would go
all around the world on the radio…..
my Grandfather’s Radio….
Listen to the didgeridoo hum…
It’s just like Grandfather said it would be…
with joeys and roos, koalas and wallabies….
She wants me to come visit her…down in Brisbane….
and bring Grandfather’s radio.
We will sit and listen to the radio
and away we’ll go……
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10. |
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You can't swim the sea, sittin' on the beach
You can't climb a mountain unless you learn to reach
You can't touch the sky with your feet stuck on the ground
You can't put a square peg in a hole that's round
Some things will come, some will go, that's the way of fashion
You can't sing a love song if you don't feel the passion
You can't love another if you don't love yourself
Love never grows sitting on a shelf
You can't find what you need if you don't know what you're after
And you can't sing a love song if you don't feel the passion
Some things will come, some will go, that's the way of fashion
You can't sing a love song if you don't feel the passion
If you want your love to grow, you've got to find a way to let her know
When you smile at her she must feel your passion
No need for philosophy, love demands action
Speak to her with homilies, give her satisfaction
Some things will come, some will go, that's the way of fashion
You can't sing a love song if you don't feel the passion
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Some folks find out early, and some of us find out too late,
But when it comes down to it, we’re all in this together….
He’d walk to the store on the corner, his kids sang in the choir
Played poker in a basement with the boys,
And they wondered what happened to their fire
He’s just a young old man, young before his time
He’s seen too much, and says too little
And he wonders if anyone really cares
(Does anyone really care?)
Her hero was a dragonfly, with wings instead of scales
She praised him in the clear blue skies, scorned him when he failed.
She’s just a young old girl, young before her prime
She knows too much, but says too little
An she wonders if anyone really cares
(Does anyone really care?)
They were just a couple of folks, not guilty of many crimes
They wailed in frustrated silence when their sun refused to shine.
They’re just young old folks, before their prime
They know too much, and say too little
And they wonder if anyone really cares?
(Does anyone really care?)
Now as I look around me, in the corner and on the ropes
I see so many people hungering for a little hope
We’re all just young old folks, way before our prime
We know too much, and say too little
And we wonder if anyone really cares?
(Does anyone really care?)
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And I wonder if they will hear the words this time
I hope and wonder if they will look between the lines
Between the lines is where the meanings lie
Between the lines is where the what I meant resides
Between the lines, between the lines
Between the lines you hear the come insides
Between the lines where we all reside
Between the lines is where I cry, I laugh, I scream, I lie
Between the lines is where I rise and where I fall, I tell it all
Between the lines is where the truth never lies
Between the lines is where everything can hide
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We all love Budd McLean. Don't know who he is? What??? Well.....
Back in 1984, Budd wanted to birth a creative environment for like minded folks, fashioned on the ethos of the coffee houses of the 60's. A year after opening up a hangout and live music venue in an old frame shop on Airport Boulevard in Mobile, Alabama, the overflowing crowds led him and his partner in crime since grade school, Bobby Pugh, to seek out a larger venue. In 1985, The Four Strong Winds Coffeehouse opened its doors on 707 Holcombe Avenue. "We are hippies who bathe," said Budd in an early interview. It went way beyond hippiedom - of course you had glorious folk, supplied regularly and lovingly by Budd and his merry band, The Mystic Gonzo Minstrel Show, but you also had chamber music and poetry, jazz, bluegrass and singer songwriters...and then came the youngsters, who, inspired by Budd's contagious exuberance and gentle cajoling, formed their own bands. Psychedelia, punk rock, acoustic, metal....it was all embraced, or at least tolerated. Hundreds and hundreds of musicians, freaks, misfits, artists, and folks of all colors passed through those doors on 707 Holcombe Avenue.
I was a latecomer, five years after The Coffeehouse was birthed. I'll never forget my first night, or for that matter, the many nights that followed. We were all accepted and loved, no matter what we looked like or how much trouble we were causing at the time. The Gonzos were our adopted fathers and loved us as we were.
The first musical heroes that I knew personally are here on this album...Peter & Paul Wilm of The Warhols, Mimi Alidor of Soft Asylum, Cherie Warren Jennings of The Aboriginals, John Leon, the Vomit Spots...I looked up to them then and now.
Everyone involved in this has shown so much love, exhibited endless amounts of patience, and has persevered under insane and deadly conditions to show their love for our musical father, Budd McLean.
This is not only a loving, living tribute to Budd, but it is also a comeback. Budd sings on two of the songs on this album, and I told him that his voice sounds like organic honey. Just perfect. Go on his Facebook page....his tag line is: "a 76 year old 8 year old." That is him and that is why we love him.
Leading up to this project, Budd sent me well over a hundred lyrics for songs and poems that he has written over the years, and it was up to us to interpret them. When you look at the lyrics as you listen to these songs, you will sometimes notice discrepancies between what Budd originally wrote and what is sung - it's just a sign of how flexible his storytelling is. Every song he wrote lives in a very real sense. It grows and morphs, it is malleable. And as Budd himself has said to me several times, he never plays a song the same way twice...
PLEASE read the liner notes to EACH song if you really want to know what Budd means to us. I cried my eyes out every time I received & read them myself.
- Casey Campbell
Music and love are powerful entities. Please try to love one another as these “children of my heart” love each other. This incredible work is the verification of the idea. I am humbled by the kindness each and everyone of you have given. Thank you. Love and hugs. And to God be the credit.
- Budd McLean
This is dedicated to all the Coffeehouse Kids and Gonzos that we have lost along the way.
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A tiny technical disclaimer: The levels may go up and down as you listen. I didn't manipulate anyone's mix after they sent it to me. "Damn it, Jim, I'm a cameraman, not a sound engineer!"
Also, If you download the album, you won't have those stupid pauses between songs....
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Special thanks to my dear sister, Rachel Campbell, for hooking me up with the marvellous Eric Erdman and getting this whole thing cranked!!
Thanks and love to Kerstin and Gwendolyn Campbell for putting up with me while I organised this :-)
Thanks to Paul Wilm for proof reading my insane ramblings....
Also, special thanks to Kendra Parks for the album cover and overall inspiration!!
AND MASSIVE THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO PARTICIPATED!!!!!!
