The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June's Jug Band - Don't 'Spect To See Me At Churchill Downs

 

The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June's Jug Band's new record evidently was inspired by reading about the amount of money bet on the race at the track, the song says it was over $200 million! The boys kick ass in a real fast thumpin',  bumpin' jug band arrangement, and Uncle June is in fine fettle as he belts out the lyrics. 

The dobro players, Mert Jernigen, is one of the founders of The Burgoo Boys and he's accompanied by the premiere banjo player of the group, also a founder of The Burgoo Boys, 'Ralston' Purina, have to keep up with a beat kept up by the jug band originals 'Thimbles' McKarry on washboard, 'Thumper' Bottoms on washtub bass, 'Toots' Bridges on jug. Since the two groups joined forces, they've showed the bluegrass and country music community what can be done with all acoustic instruments. And the vocals by Uncle June himself are stellar! He manages to keep up with them, and we don't know where he had much of a chance to catch his breath! 

Read 'bout this years Kentucky Derby race
And I can't hardly believe it!
Was over two hundred million dollars bet
On them beasts! Jest what in the hell!
 
Two hundred million dollars bet on a single race,
 Dust is flying all over the place!
From the high-dollar boxes down to the fence,
Them folks that bet got more money than sense!
They’re waving their tickets and screaming for luck,
 While I'm holding onto my last lonely buck...
 
Favorite horse don't care about the blood,
Be happy to waller like a hog in the mud...
Them greedy gamblers at the trackside bar,
Shore jump on it like ants on a candy bar!
If'n I had all that there ready cash
Wouldn’t waste it on no horse racin' bash...
 
Big ta doo, with ladies pretty, dressed to the nines
Eat cucumber sandwiches and drinkin' fancy wine...
In a good year got so many pretty tulips
An always got the favorite drink, the mint Julep...
Ya'll can pay five thousand for one; ya got money out yer ass!
But ya git to keep the cup, if yer in the upper class...
 
Bet tons of money on a beast that's a runnin'
Don't know what he's thinkin', that ain't no funnin'...
Might a had a bad night,  maybe's got the grip
Track be too wet and he might stumble and slip...
But ya can’t ask the trainer, or jockey of course
And ya shore as hell can’t be askin' the horse...
 
Ya'll can tell I ain't no horse racin' man
Hang on to my money as long as I can...
If I were that refined, rich and didn't cuss
Shore as hell wouldn't spend money on such a fuss!
Course I'd spend a lot on what I want to do
But I bet I'd do more good by the time I was through...
 
Ain't tryin' to be no high and mighty
But can’t rich folks do more than be flighty...
How much money does a person need anyhow?
Why do they not pay taxes like us lowbrows?
Two hundred million dollars ain't chicken feed!
How many hongry folks would all that feed?
 
I know some rich folks give to charity,
But dammit all, they keep forgettin' 'bout me!
Send me some that money, gimme a ration
Help me to improve my situation
But don't 'spect to see me at Churchill Downs
Rather be out huntin' with my hounds!

Pasquale Appassionato - The Restaurante Fiasco

 

Another one of our new artists follows up  right away with another song - This time it's Pasquale Appassionata, our resident Italian tenor. For those who are following along, Pasquale's first song told of a tale about his pushcart rivalry with his nemesis, Big Mike. Big Mike has a way of getting underneath Pasquale's skin, he lost his temper, and he wrecked their pushcarts and ruined all of his produce by throwing it at Big Mike and anyone sle that got in the way. AS by the telling of the tale, it was late in the season and Pasquale wouldn't get another crop in at his garden, he needed to get another job to get some income. So he went to a popular Italian Restaurante in Little Italy in New York City and got a job as a waiter.

Everything id going fine, he likes his job, knows many of the people that come in for dinner, and is relieved to not have to deal with Big Mike on the produce circuit. But one day, guess who shows up at the eatery...yep...Big Mike! Big Mike proceeds to sit in Pasquale's section, and complains about everything; soup's cold, salad has too much vinegar, he spits chianti on the floor because it's too warm, throws bread around, complains about the meatballs and spaghetti. Pasquale finally snaps, an d shoves breadsticks in Big Mike's nose, dumps ice water in his lap, spaghetti and meatballs on his head, and smears tiramisu in  his face! While Pasquale celebrates his revenge, the owner of the restaurante comes up and fires him! 

So, with two adventures under his belt so far, what's next for Pasquale? Where will he work, and will Big Mike continue to be an annoyance? And will Pasquale be a storyteller in the mold of Big And Tall Records premiere storyteller Chuck Wagon Calhoun? Stay tuned! 

Mama mia, the pushcart, she is a empty!
My beautiful tomatoes are
Gone until the next crop
 A man has got a to work, a man has
got a to pay the rent!
 
So, Pasquale puts on shiny black vest,
Pick up  tray, and becomes...
The grandest waiter in all of Little Italy!
And no more to put up with Big Mike!"
 
Ah, welcome to the table! Welcome, my friends!
 Pasquale's new kingdom  where the food never ends!
Look at Mrs. Rossi, eating gnocchi so sweet,
And old Mr. Bruno, finally off of his feet!
And Mister a Misses Fedeles too!
Sit! Let Pasquale take care of you!
 I pour  red wine, carry  tray with such grace,
smile on my lips, friendly look on my face!
 No more the hot sun, no more dusty old street,
Just the smell of the garlic and music so sweet! ...
 
Che bella vita!  Everything is so grand!
I am the happiest waiter in all of the land!
 
But wait!
Who is walking in the door?
The shadow is heavy,
It cover the floor!
It cannot be him oh, my heart, it fluttero!
It’s the king of the pests...
 it is giant Big Mike...bastardo!...
 
He sit at the table, he barks out a groan,
He complains the zupa cold as a stone!  ("Take it back!")
 I bring him the salad, he waves it away,
("Too much vinegar, fool! You ruined my day!" )
I bring out the chianti, he spits on the floor,
 ("Wine is too warm, fetch me some more!")
The blood in my veins is beginning to boil,
He is ruining the pasta, the sauce, and the oil!
My hands start to shake as I fetch a new plate,
He grumbles and mumbles and feeds on my hate!...
 
He snarls at the meatballs!
Throws bread away!
That’s it! You say you no want?
I GIVE A TO YOU ANYWAY!
(Tempo explodes into pure chaos)
Have some breadsticks! I give you a pair!
I stuff them right up you nose, I no care!
You think you overheated? Well, I cool you inna snap!
 I dump the ice a water right inna you lap!
You don’t like the sauce? You don't like the meat?
 I mix it for you, make it real neat!
SPLAT goes the meatballs, all covered in red,
A big tower of pasta right on you head! ...
 
And for the dessert, to finish the show,
A face full of espresso and sweet cocoa dough!...
 I rub  tiramisu right inna you eyes! ...
Wassa matta for you? You no enjoy the surprise?
 
The restaurant is cheering!... Beeg Mike is a mess!
Pasquale Appassionato has cleared his distress!
Bravo!...Bravissimo
 
Buon Dio!... Is the owner...!
 
PASQUALE!..YOU FIRED!

Chuck Wagon Calhoun - Bulgin' Tough Muscles

 

Chuck Wagon Calhoun continues his traipsing around the old west, this time as, of all things, a blacksmith with Bulgin' Tough Muscles in the town of Deadwood, South Dakota. Deadwood began as a group of squatters that illegally squatted on the land that had been guaranteed ownership of the Black Hills in 1868 to the Lakota People. Lawsuits, some going as high as The Supreme Court ensued, but things took a turn after George Armstrong Custer was ordered to lead an expedition into the area, and in 1874 there was an announcement declaring gold had been found. By 1876 there were 12,000 people in the town and it was known for its lawlessness, murder, gambling, prostitution, and about every other kind of human bad habit. 

The pimp mentioned in the song is Al Swearengen, a man that operated the opium trade in town (there were Chinese immigrants in the town that had connections to get it) as well as a saloon called The Gem Theater. He had his fingers in most all the illegal activity in town, and stayed there until 1899. Sheriff Bullock mentioned in the song was a Canadian/American born in Ontario, Canada in 1849. He was a business owner, politician, Sheriff, and U.S. Marshall. He had to leave Canada to avoid prosecution when he was a County Treasurer and funds were found to be missing. So like many lawmen  of the old west, he spent his time on the other side of the law. 

We here at Big And Tall Records are keeping track of Chuck Wagon's exploits and where he says he's been. He's starting to run out of famous old west towns, so who knows what comes next?

Under the spreadin’ Chestnut tree
Stood the village smithy… it was me!
Howdy!
Ma name’s Chuck Wagon Calhoun and I’ve
Got a story to tell ya ‘bout a town ya might
Have heerd of…
DEADWOOD, SOUTH DAKOTA!
YEE HAW, YA’LL!
 
When I were young I apprenticed
At a blacksmith shop in Deadwood
Took me a while to get the hang
Of poundin’ the anvil like I should
 
After a lotta hammerin’
Poundin’ red hot steel inta shape
My muscles growed big and hard
Shore did me good in a few scrapes
 
Because I sure had
Bulgin’ tough muscles in ma arms
Bulgin’ hard muscles in ma face
Glistnin’ hard muscles in ma legs
Ripplin’ rough muscles ever place!
 
I put in long hard days and nights
Workin’ and sculptin’ red hot iron
Inta what ya could use, like horse shoes
Griddles, wagon parts and flat irons
 
After work I’d go git some grub
And have a few dranks with ma pals
Did a little gamblin’ as well
But never had to pay fer no gals!
 
Because I sure had
Rock hard tough muscles in my ass
Even had muscles in my spit!
Impressive muscles ever where
EVEN HAD MUSCLES IN MY SHIT!
 
Ladies would always foller me
Like they’s all my puppy dogs
They like to feel all my muscles
Keep me out ‘til the mornin’ fog
 
Then a pimp named Al Swearengen
Owned The Gem Theater saloon
Tried to frame me for a murder
That were done by one a his goons
 
Sheriff Bullock was in on it
He swore they had me dead to rights
Vigilantes fixin’ to hang me
In the middle of the night!
 
They had me in jail gettin’ ready
To gimme a noose neck tie
I bent the jail bars with ma muscles
And spit in Sheriff Bullocks eye!
 
So guess what I done…
Used ma strong arms to escape
Saddled up ma horse rode away
Held the horse reins in ma strong hands
I SHORE AS HELL COULDN’T STAY!
 
[Spoken-word]
Them crooks in Deadwood hated my ass
‘Specially the pimps!
Never made no money off me back then!
Didn’t have to spend no money on women…
Women spend money on ME!
Fight over me, squabble and pull out each other’s hir…
I used to tell em’…
JEST LINE UP, WAIT YER TURN!
THE MUSCLE MAN’S GOT ENOUGH
FER ALL OF YA!

Pascal Villon - Mon Dieu

The smooth mellow sound of Pascal Villon returns with his 2nd release for Big And Tall Records - Mon Dieu. 

I think of the way the world is today makes me sad in a way
Many people will never know the love I felt yesterday and today
How to make it better for you is not for me to say
But I know what does it for me in each and every way
 
 To see the smile, upon your face makes me so happy, mon dieu
To be with you, in this place, is all I ever want to do
The crowded street can be lonely but never when I'm with you
You are my one, my only, you make me happy, mon dieu
 
Even in a crowded room you can feel all alone
The people that surround you are busy on their phone
The way of the world today, for so many to get locked
On the ten second sound bite, with the internet Tik-Tok
 
To see the smile upon your face makes me so happy, mon dieu
To be with you, in this place, is all I ever want to do
The crowded street can be lonely but never when I am with you
You are my one, my only, you make me happy, mon dieu
 
Oui I know I am old fashioned, I admit it, mon ami
I’m a romantic in the world, the only way to be for me.
I try to thee a world through eyes, that sadly is no more
So many struggles for wrong things, is that what we live for?
 
To touch the skin upon your face makes me so happy, mon dieu
To be with you in this place is all I ever want to do
The crowded street can be lonely but never when I am with you
You are my one, my only, you make me happy, mon dieu
 
Nations still battle and kill, for the sake of what, I’m not sure
So many versions of history, can turn it all into a blur
Wanting what isn’t yours, using words to define
Justifications and reasons for even bigger crimes.
 
To see your eyes light up your face makes me so happy, mon dieu
To be with you in this place is all I ever want to do
The crowded street can be lonely but never when I am with you
You are my one, my only, you make me happy, mon dieu
 
Mon dieu

Pasquale Appassionato - The Pushcart Disaster

 

Big And Tall Records associates and agents have been busy investigating new talent, and they've found this operatic tenor! He's classically trained, and has a penchant to record off-beat songs, so he fits right in! Pasquale Appassionato is most likely a pseudonym, but we don't care. We look at the song and quality of the recording. An orchestra backs up the singer as he tells a tale of having a vegetable fight with his rival in 1920's New York Little Italy.

Picture in your mind a hot, steamy day in New York City in the 1920's. There are fruit and vegetable peddlers pushing their carts full of good to sell. Pasquale's cart is laden with all kinds of goods, it's been a good year in his garden. He has to sell as much as he can, as the items are dead-ripe and won't last much longer in the heat and humidity. He begins to shout his sales pitch over the other peddlers as he weaves his way through the crowds on the cobblestones of Mulberry Street. He hears his rival 'Big Mike' shouting, but Big Mike is shouting about how Pasquale's melons are bad, and other slurs. People hear, and quit buying anything from Pasquale. He tries lowering prices, but Big Mike has ruined his day. Now he'll have to take the loss from his produce spoiling! He gets close to Big Mike's cart, and Pasquale loses his temper, rams his cart into Big Mike's, and begins throwing his produce at Big Mike and anyone else that gets in the way! But there's one 'customer' that likes Pasquale's wares, and gives his approval!

My name is Pasquale Appassionato,
I grow the vegetable I grow la frutta
Cobblestones on Mulberry street are
baking like oven. Air is thick
Flies, they buzz...And a my produce...
 
My beautiful eggplant, they weep
 in the New York shade!
Bellissima zucchini,  they
sweat like my brow!
Tomato, she is ripe, Garlic she sigh.
La frutta, they get all slimy snotty!
I must push cart on the street
If nobody buys, my heart she
break like stale biscotti!
Mama mia... we are DOOMED!
 
Hey! Look-a here, look-a here, step right up!
Put a dime in my pocket, a pear in you cup!
I got a the garlic, the onion, the bean,
The finest tomato you ever have seen!
Hey, lady! Don’t walk, don't pass me by,
Buy a nice banana for your favorite guy!
Presto, andiamo, look at the price,
Buy it today it's allso nice!
 
But the sun is beating, the street is a mess,
 Pasquale is starting to feel the stress!
Down on the corner stands "Big Mike,"
Selling his cabbages off of a pike!
He yells to the crowd that my melons, they bad!
Making the people of Mulberry mad!
He steal  my business, taking my dime,
Ruining Pasquale's beautiful time!
 
My blood, she is boiling! My face, she is red!
I scream at Big Mike till I wake up the dead!
"You insult my fruit?! You insult my name?!"
I put on the brakes and I get in the game!
I pull back my handles, I line up the wheels,
Ignoring the women and all of their squeals—
I run at his stand like a runaway train,
CRASH! Go the carts in the alleyway lane!
 
"Basta! You no want? I give a it to you anyway!"
Flying tomato! Caught in the ear!
Splat on a the copper! Out  my way, dear!
Head of a lettuce goes spinning in flight,
Turning the corner into a fight!
Carrots so orange, nice and a sweet
I hope they make you slip, trip up you feet!
Cabbage for Big Mike! Hit in the nose!
Hit a him hard,  blood runs and flows!
Slimy and snotty, it's raining a peach,
Samples for everyone, samples for each!
 
You get a garlic! You get a bean!
Maddest banana you ever have seen!
Smash the pushcart! Break the stand!
Welcome to beautiful New York land!
 
...Eh. The horse, he like-a the carrot.

Buzzy Carlyle - The Rest Home Blues

 

Big And Tall Records got a call from Buzzy's manager that he had a song ready to be recorded. When we asked the agent how Buzzy was feeling, it's always the same answer: "Never better! Ready to be picked up and record a big hit!" Wwe know better than to trust the agent's judgement. Buzzy has had a lot of major health issues, and still does. Last thing we need to do is rush out to where he is, a good hours drive, only to see that he's not feeling well. Buzzy is a real trooper, always tried to insist on coming anyway, so it's a real problem getting hi mto stay where he should and that we'll be back another time.  So we gave his Cardiologist a call.

The cardiologist is a big blues fan, and is footing the bill out of his own pocket for Buzzy's stay at the rest home. By the way, don't think it's as bad as the picture looks in the illustration for the video. That was mocked up by our art department to m ake it look old and beat up, what they thought would be more appropriate for the song. No, Buzzy's room is a clean and comfortable large room in a very nice facility, a facility  Buzzy wouldn't be in if it weren't for his cardiologist paying for it. So we finally got through to the doctor, a very busy man. He told us that indeed, Buzzy is doing very well. Most of his health issues are stable, and Buzzy is working with the doctors, nutritionists, and nurses to stay that way.  He still  can't walk very well, probably never will be able to shake the wheel chair, but otherwise he's as healthy as can be, all things considered. 

We hired an ambulance to bring him to the studio and take him back, just in case he has any problems, and we draw straws as who is going to go along. Buzzy always wants some company for the trip. It was our editor's turn to go along, and so we knew we'd get a good report of how things went. Here's what he had to say:

Buzzy was in good spirits, was really anxious to get the new song in the can. He said he'd been working on it for quite some time, and got it finished sooner than he thought. He's been getting less visitors now than when he first went to the home. I told him that wad understandable, as the hard-core blues musicians would be there first to pick his brains first, that other fans would be trickling in.  He said he didn't mind. He had so many musicians visit that it would leave him worn  out. 

He told me about the song on the way, how he got the blues one day while he was sitting in his chair looking out the window at the bright sunny day. I told him he could've asked to be wheeled outside, it would have done him good. But he said that wasn't the point. The point was he couldn't go outside on his own and do what he wanted. But he said working on the song really helped, and he wanted to assure me he wasn't off the deep end depressed about things like he used to get. Just the realization yet again how much his life had changed. He was grateful that his life hadn't ended! We agreed with that! 

When I sat in on the session, I was amazed at how much stronger his voice was! No more weak wobble to it after he sang for a while. He sang the song over many times to  satisfy himself, and the voice was good from the first to the last. And on the trip back to the home he didn't drift off to sleep like usual. And his playing! He made some stellar moves on that old resonator steel guitar he's got! He had suggested some backing for this song as well, something he doesn't always do. Been a mostly solo act all his career, but he said he needed some solid, steady drum backing and other light backing. 

Lookin' out the window at the green grass
Watchin' afternoon shadows pass...
Roses bloomin' willow trees grow tall,
Sure looks different when you're starin' at a wall
Got the rest home blues
Got the rest home blues
 
Hear the squeak of rubber shoes down the corridor,
They bring my medicine then lock the door
Nurse gives me a smile, says 'Buzzy, take it slow’
She don’t know about the places my mind can go
My heart’s got a zipper, and my legs don't move
But this old left hand still 'members the groove
 
Got the rest home blues but  ain't resting yet
Payin' a debt to the road I can't forget
Doctor bought the room, doctor pays the bill
But the slide on this steel is sure 'gainst my will
Can hold my body, can watch my charts
But can't put a leash on a heavy-rollin' heart.
 
Sun's goin down o'er the manicured lawn
 Another day sittin' here, another day gone
When the lights go dim, and the halls get quiet
Me and this steel guitar gonna start us a riot
I might be in a chair, might be slow to stand,
But I’m still the baddest bluesman in this whole damn land.
 
Yeah, looking out the window
Watching the shadows grow long
Still got the mojo, it just lives in a different song.

Pascal Villon - The Last Cáfe (C'est la vie)

 

We at Big And Tall Records are proud of our international catalog, and we've just added a new one, the Parisian chanson singer, Pascal Villon! Pascal brings hsis resonant and flexible baritone voice to the U.S. for the first time. He is here on tour, and was brought to our attention by one of our associates in Canada because of Pascal's visits to French-speaking areas in the past. He of course sings in French, as well as very understandable English. He has been performing for many years and is quite well known in the Paris music scene. 

He not only is a favorite performer of many, but also composes most of the songs he sings, which makes him fit right in with the rest of our artists who for the most part are also composers of their own material. He has a good feel for the style, and absolutely a good voice for it as well.  

The countries that we have representation for are listed, along with the artists, below:

FRANCE - Pascal Villon
ARGENTINA - El Gato
POLAND - Zbig Szafranski
MEXICO - Un Grupo de Mexicali
SWEDEN - Two Swedish Gentlemen
IRELAND - Craic Agus Ceol
ENGLAND - The Widow Makers

SWITZERLAND - The Alpine Bunch

And many different styles and areas of American music from Country, Blues, Latin American, Jazz, Boogie Woogie, Polka, Humorous, and Political. We could break many of these down further into sub-styles, but the message is that Big And Tall Records will not be pigeon-holed! 

Bonjour...My name is Pascal Villon.
I am here to sing a chanson for all of you
who have had a broken heart.
We French have a term for it.... c’est la vie.
Paris in May... but the rain, it does not care
about the season.
Just like you, mon amour...
you did not care about the clock.
 
I sit alone at a table in the corner,
Watching  the couples walk by on the street.
The waiter brings wine, but it tastes a bit colder,
Without the sweet warmth of you when we meet.
I look at my watch, it is past midnight,
An hour since you walked out the door.
You left a smile in the dim cabaret light,
And a shadow that steps on the floor.
 
Oh, c’est la vie, my beautiful friend,
Every sweet chapter must come to an end.
We danced in the mist by the old Notre Dame,
A temporary fire, without any harm
I raise my glass to the ghost of your face,
Lost in the smoke of this lonely old place.
Adieu, mohn ah-moor... c’est la vie.
 
You told me that writers are dangerous men,
They turn a small kiss into tragedy's art.
You were right, as I pick up my pen,
To measure  pieces of my heavy heart.
Your scarf is still here on the back of a chair,
A whisper of silk and perfume.
A bittersweet ghost in the chilly night air,
Haunting this quiet, dark room.
 
Oh, c’est la vie, my beautiful friend,
Every sweet chapter must come to an end.
We danced in the mist by the old Notre Dame,
A temporary fire, without any harm.
 I raise up my glass to the ghost of your face,
Lost in the smoke of this lonely old place.
Adieu, mohn ah-moor... c’est la vie.
 
No tears in the wine... non, that is too cheap.
Just a quiet goodbye to the secrets we keep.