Gummer Beaudine - I Believe In Me, And Let Be!

 Gummer Beaudine returns with a song in her aggressive style in the song I Believe In Me, And Let Be! We're not sure where all the aggression stems from, but far be it from us here at Big And Tall Records to be amateur psychologists. What we do know is that Gummer's had a tough life, and is proud of how she's evolved to such a tough nut. Unfortunately, being a woman in modern times still has more than its share of prejudice and injustice. We like to think that we're more enlightened, and that's not to deny that progress has been made in gender and race relations. Progress has been made, but progress needs to continue! 

Be all that as it may, Gummer has shown that she has many moods and is capable of expressing herself very well; sometimes more subtly than this song where she's pretty much in the listener's face. But we like her music, her many moods, and we know better than to mess with Ms Beaudine!

You say you just don't like me

You say I'm too goddam crude
You say I ain't worth nothin'
You say I'm nasty and rude
 
Why ya'll think that it matters
I know I ain't all refined
So if ya'll got a bone to pick
Just take your place back the line!
 
Don't matter ‘t all to me  ass hole
What ya'll might think 'bout me
What ya see is what ya get
I believe in me, and let be!
 
Last I heard you ain't my boss
So ya'll can jest kiss my ass!
I'm proud where I come from
My roots in the workin' class
 
Worked ever day for years
In a shitty factory
Makin' goddam widgets
Wages unsatisfactory
 
Don't matter ‘t all to me  ass hole
What ya'll might think 'bout me
What ya see is what ya get
I believe in me, and let be!
 
Dealt with my share of bastards
Dealt with my share of cheats
But none the f*ckers ever
Drove me to final defeat
 
Yeah, I can be a real bitch
Not always proud of the fact
Sometimes I wish I wasn't
That I had more ease and tact
 
But I could wish in one hand
And collect shit in t'other
But I know which would fill up first
So I ain't a gonna bother
 
Don't matter ‘t all to me  ass hole
What ya'll might think 'bout me
What ya see is what ya get
I believe in me, and let be!
 
Hell no it don't matter at all
Couldn't give a shit any less
Too damned old to change my ways
That I'm willin' to confess
 
Seen it! Done it! Lived through it!
Bought a f*ckin' T shirt
And I ain't goin' back...

Hambone Riley - The Mud Bug Blues

 

We confess to being perplexed about the title of Hambone Riley's latest, The Mud Bug Blues, but the mystery of the title was dispelled after hearing the song. So hats off to Hambone for piquing our interest; a sign that a song title is a good one! 

Some of the past recordings of Hambone might have given the impression about his sincerity as a musician, but this is a good example of how he's not just about humorous and risque songs, but an accomplished and serious musician. His guitar playing is top notch, here performed on a resonator guitar, and his blues singing is passionate. an all around great bluesman that we're happy to have as one of our artists here at Big And Tall Records!

We didn't know crayfish (or crawdads as we called them when we were kids) are also called mud bugs. We used to catch them near the river bank and use them for fish bait, and they can be a challenge to grab by hand if you don't remember that they're quick and don't move head first. They can scoot pretty quick backwards and hide in the mud (hence the name) or under rocks. And they are really good to eat, and even when you've got some good sized ones it takes a lot to fill you up!  So in the cajun restaurant we used to frequent they're served up by the pail full in an annual Crawdad Festival. They're kind of like mini lobster. Takes a bit to get the hang of eating them; they're boiled up whole, break the tail and body in two. The connoisseurs suck the juices out of the head section and peel the tails while the more faint of heart just eat the tails and sometime the claws. 

We can imagine Hambone's narrator of the story (maybe himself in his younger days) sitting in front of a plate of mud bugs waiting for his lover, but she never shows. And adding insult to injury, he goes to pay for his meal and finds unbeknownst to him that she took all his money as well. Now that's the blues!

Oh, I got the Mudbug blues
Lawd help me, the mudbug blues
My woman's gone, she don't belong
I'm sad from my head to my shoes
 
When I was in New Orleans
I met me a woman there
Me and her hooked up real fast
And it led to my despair
 
Oh, I got the Mudbug blues
Lawd help me, the mudbug blues
My woman's gone, she don't belong
Believin' it my heart just refuse
 
We enjoyed each other for days
Together we seen the sights
Never saw the signs she give me
Amongst all them dazzlin' lights
 
We ate lots of Cajun food
That were as hot as we were
We had a date to have some mo
But she ain't any where

Oh, I got the Mudbug blues
Sittin' here with the mudbug blues
I been abused, and I been used
Cain't even buy me no booze!
 
Sittin' in this restaurant
Done checked my wallet to pay
Guess I gotta stay right here
But I wanna just run away!
 
She stole my money for sure
Done fucked me ever which way
 Stole my heart too, and that's a debt
She ain't never gonna pay!
 
Oh, I got the Mudbug blues
Never get over it again
Won’t forget what she done to me
It's the most worst I ever been!

Chuck Wagon Calhoun - It Were in The Town Of Frog Lick

Just where in the heck is the town of Frog Lick? And is there a town named Frog Lick? A quick check of Google finds no town named Frog Lick anywhere. Not a big surprise, as Chuck Wagon's reputation as a tale spinner is well known. And by the introduction he gives to the song, you might expect a tender country ballad about a broken heart. But far from it! The tempo quickens, and we have another humorous song! 

We here at Big And Tall Records still have not discovered who Chuck Wagon Calhoun is. We're dealing with a go-between acting as his agent, and there's no info to be gained from them! So we'll look forward to the next song he sends us!

Howdy!

My name's Chuck Wagon Calhoun
I reckon ya'll might wanna hear 'bout a lost love of mine
 That still grieves my heart to think 'bout.
 
It were in the town of  Frog Lick
Where my dear sweet heart made her home
I tried to git her to go away
From her Maw and Paw she wouldn't roam
 
When a young'un I'd go courtin'
To my dear Petunia's house
We'd sit in the swing on the porch
I'd stick my hand down her blouse
 
But we had to keep an eye peeled
Fer her Maw and Paw that spied
Cuz they knowed their daughter was loose
So they always kept her in eye
 
It were in the town of  Frog Lick
Where my dear sweet heart made her home
I tried to git her to go away
From her Maw and Paw she wouldn't roam
 
Knowed she had a lot of lovers
But that never mattered to me
Figgered she knew all the tricks
And she never would charge a fee
 
So I took what I could git
At least got to feel her titties
Got caught once by hags goin' by
A nasty ol' bunch of biddies!
 
The ol' ladies raised a ruckus
Maw and Paw ran out the house
One the women said 'HEY LOOKEE!
HE GOT HIS HAND DOWN HER BLOUSE!
 
It were in the town of  Frog Lick
First time a gun were pulled on me
GIT OFF OUR PORCH, YOU LECHER!
So I ran off, their words I heed
 
But it didn't last fer long
Soon as it got really late
'Bout midnight I went to see her
We gonna leave town be my mate
 
We always met in the barn
Opened the door, was confused
Two legs up in the air
AND I RECOGNIZED THE SHOES!
 
It were in the town of  Frog Lick
Bitch couldn't even wait fer me
Some other feller's between her legs
Jest like she had done with me!
 
So I learned a lesson that night
Took off from Frog Lick next day
Never been back
But on occasion, I think 'bout Petunia
I really did love her, 'specially her titties
But then, I think 'bout all the men she' prolly had since then
All the young'uns she got
 Prolly fat and wrinkly by now
She never did smell too good neither
GODDAM, DID I dodge A BULLET! 

The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June's Jug Band - The Ol' Fishin' Hole (Near The Oak)

The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June's Jug Band is quite a mouthful of a name for a band, but that's the way the two bands decided to list themselves when they joined forces late last year. Both bands played traditional and original songs at their gigs, but the leaders of both bands wanted to do more original songs. It takes time writing songs, what with lyrics, music, trying them out, rehearsals and all. So to join forces made sense for both of them in that sense, as well as both groups expanding their instrum-entation and sound palette. 

The Burgoo Boys are primarily a Bluegrass band, and Uncle June's as the name says, a Jug Music band. both genres aren't that far apart music-wise, as there's considerable overlap. But the ideas are flowing, and their recordings are gathering momentum. 

John Henry Flort is the leader/soloist/songwriter for The Burgoo Boys, and  Uncle June McShary is the same for The Jug Band, and on this recording they both take turns singing until the end when the whole gang joins in.  The song tells of the favorite fishin' hole of the men. In the part of Kentucky where it's at (like good fishermen, they don't reveal the location of their favorite hole!) the water stays open most of the time in the winter, but with no leaves on the oak tree near the hole, it isn't the same. They give a good visual for us Northerners of a warm Kentucky day, lazily fishin' under the shade of that oak tree with a sack of sandwiches and a jug to wet yer whistle!

The ol' fishin' hole near the oak
That spreads out givin' ya shade
On a warm Kentucky day
Toss out yer bait, ya got it made!
 
Many a day I spent fishin'
Underneath that big, tall oak tree
With a bag of sandwiches
And a jug that's jest fer me
 
Times them fish 'bout jumped on the bank
Other times they jest disappeared
Whether ya'll caught somethin' or no
Yer disposition will be cheered
 
The ol' fishin' hole near the oak
That spreads out givin' ya shade
On a warm Kentucky day
Toss out yer bait, ya got it made!
 
Now up north, ya'll fish through the ice
Gets colder than hell up there
But not here in Kentucky
Can go fishin' most anywhere
 
The ol' fishin' hole ain't the same
Oak done shed leaves I do believe
You can’t have one without t'other
Fishin' hole ain't the same with no leaf!
 
The ol' fishin' hole near the oak
Summertime givin' ya shade
Wait for a warm Kentucky day
Toss out yer bait, ya'll have it made!
 
So many that go fishin' there
To prevent squabbles and rifts
Us fellers have a lottery
And we abide fishin' in shifts!
 
Now they's a big ol' blue cat
Likes to hang out in the slew
Got bets who's a gonna catch him
And land that fish we call Big Blue!
 
I almost caught him couple times
He likes meanderin' to the ol' fishin' hole
Water's deep and cool in the summer
He don't never sleep, and I gots the night shift!
So I got the stinkin'est, rottennest, most disgustin' cat fish bait
Ya ever locked yer nose on! I'm a gonna git Big Blue by hook or crook!
 
The ol' fishin' hole near the oak
That spreads out givin' ya shade
On a warm Kentucky day
Toss out yer bait, ya got it made!

Betty Miranga - It Didn't Mean Nothin'

We've read that country bars and taverns sell more beer per occupant than regular bars, and this is attributed to the country music played in these taverns, especially if there's a live band playing. Most folks like a good story, and country music can be sad, hence the mood of the drinkers in the tavern buying more alcohol. We don't know if all of that's really true about selling more beer, but we do agree that a great deal of country music deals with telling a story.  Betty Miranga is one of those storytellers.

The few songs she's recorded for Big And Tall Records have been mostly story songs; personal stories. This latest gives some of the insight she's learned from life that deals with a cheating lover. Her high pitched voice sends the message in a way only she can. 

If you ever have a partner
Cheat on ya say this to you
It didn't mean nothin'
Walk away and say yer all through
 
One time I had a sweetheart
Who I caught two-timin' on me
Figured I'd try to work it out
He really meant a lot to me
 
Then he said it was no big deal
Nothin' serious or true
It didn't mean nothin'
He tol' me I love only you
 
That changed ever thing right there
Really? Didn’t 't mean nothin'?
Then why was I tied up in knots?
Dang, for me it was shore somethin'!
 
If you ever have a partner
Cheat on ya say this to you
It didn't mean nothin'
Walk away, and say yer all through
 
He kept right on a talkin'
Diggin' himself ever deeper
Said he didn't love her at all
Don't never believe a cheater!
 
Wanted to put it in the past
That it'd never happen again
But if I’d a believed all that
My chance to be happy was slim
 
He tried to play me for a fool
Younger days it might a worked
But I learned a lot through the years
Know when my chains bein' jerked
So...
 
If you ever have a partner
Cheat on ya say this to you
It didn't mean nothin'
Walk away, and say yer all through

Chuck Wagon Calhoun - The Ballad of Dead Eye Calhoun

Chuck Wagon Calhoun sings his latest song about Dead-Eye Calhoun, a gunslingin' ,cross-eyed, woman shootin', not too bright ancestor.  We're still not sure who in hell this Chuck Wagon is, but we like his songs, written with his tongue firmly in cheek! 

 Howdy
My name's Chuck Wagon Calhoun
Thought ya'll might like to hear the tale of
my ancestor, the gunslinger Dead Eye Calhoun!

A man that lived long ago
A gunslinger in the old west
His fame he come by honestly
But he twernt better than the rest

Wanted to be a gunslinger
Ever since he were a kid
But his eyes crossed afore his nose
Glasses down his face they slid

Deadeye Calhoun, a real killer
Yer chance of dyin' were mighty
If ya stood smack dab behind him
You would meet the almighty

He done put notches on his gun
Fer ever one he done kilt
But they twern’t all men, no indeed
In shootin' gals he were skilled

The safest place to stand
When he drawed on men he despised
Was right in front the dumb ass
Cuz of his googlin' eyes!

Deadeye Calhoun, a real killer
Yer chance of dyin' were mighty
If ya stood smack dab behind him
You would meet the almighty

Deadeye made his rounds of the towns
Of fame in the old, old west
Dodge City and Laredo, 
Tombstone, El Paso, and the rest

Was in the town of Wichita
When drunk, and full of cruel hate 
He drew down on a rival
And Deadeye met his fate

He got a bead on the cuss
He drawed first and pulled the trigger
He missed who he wanted to kill
Caused the crowd watchin' to snigger

The bullet left the pistol
Careened off towards a water pump
Ricocheted  off the metal
Come back and hit him in his rump

It went through both his ass cheeks
Hoot and hollered out his head
Took off runnin' down the street
As the wounds gushin' they bled

He kept on shootin' his guns
'Til he run out of ammo
Fell down in the dusty street
As the blood continued to flow

He bled out right then and there
To die like that might not seem fair
Fer an old west gunslinger
But ain't nobody seemed to care...

Deadeye Calhoun, a real killer
Yer chance of dyin' were mighty
If ya stood smack dab behind him
You could meet the almighty

So there's the story of Deadeye Calhoun My Ancestor
Best I can figger; he was my  Grampaw 4 times over
My other relations ain't talkin' to me no more since I tol' the story.
and I know why...
Cuz Deadeye was not only a cruel bastard,
He was a no account murderous boil on the ass
of society that deserved to die in the dirty, cow shit covered streets 
of Wichita cuz he was a heartless sum bitch and...a real dumb shit!

The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June's Jug Band - Kentucky Shine

The Burgoo Boys and Uncle June's Jug Band are at it again; this  time in a song that mentions many of the things Kentucky is known for, with the main item being Kentucky Shine, or moonshine. Uncle June himself is the soloist in his unique voice.  The Boys like the variety of instruments and players Uncle June has access to, and they plan to collaborate much more in the future. 

The term moonshine was given to illegal corn whiskey that was many times made at night to try and avoid detection. There are many legal distillers of moonshine, but there is still a small group that do it on the sly illegally to avoid the costs of licenses and the expense of a distillery that is subject to state inspection and regulation. Despite some states having laws that permit a limited amount of moonshine made for personal use, there remains a federal law against it. 

Uncle June

Making moonshine can be dangerous on different levels. Straight alcohol creates vapor which is highlyflammable, especially in an enclosed space and can explode, so adequate ventilation is needed. Even static electricity can ignite the vapors. Then there's toxic substances that can contaminate the alcohol. Lead can come from using the wrong items to make a still, for example. Then there's the liquid that comes directly after the initial product of the still, called the Head. It contains traces of toxic materials such as acetone and formaldehyde and should never be consumed. The byproducts of fermentation that are contained in the aftershot, or very last liquid from the still are also toxic and should not be consumed. Seems to us that there's more danger in the stuff than it's worth! After all, like Uncle June says: But if ya'll can't handle the stuff, we all wanna reassure, use it fer cleanin' car engines, makes a damn good degreaser! But make sure you do it in a well ventilated area and don't smoke! 

Taint got no fancy bottle 
Or frilly label neither
Don't drink too much or it might
Knock you out like a snort of ether

The Great State of Kentucky  
Is known for many things
Bluegrass music keeps the state
Smilin' happy as it sings

Got horses a plenty too
And the famous Derby race 
Louisville slugger baseball bats
Help the batters keep a pace

Kentucky Fried Chicken as well 
That's known around the world 
And the finest bourbon whiskey
In glasses of ice that's swirled

And don't forget the classic dish
We'll mention special stew
A really long cooked tasty bowl
Of home cooked thick Burgoo 

But there’s still one thing that's left
We wanna mention 'fore we're through
Pistol packin', wallopin'
Gullet burnin' mountain dew!

Taint got no fancy bottle 
Or frilly label neither
Don't drink too much or it might
Knock you out like a snort of ether

Home brewed in them thar hills
By bootleggers young and old
Tradition has fruit jars filled
With clear alcoholic gold

A quart'll last ya a while
But damn, take it nice and slow
A little bit'll make ya smile
But too much'll make ya crow!

Proof numbers in triple digits
Don't git it near no open flame!
Treat it right or ya'll be sorry 
Gits away it'll be hard to tame!

Taint got no fancy bottle 
Or frilly label neither
Don't drink too much or it might
Knock you out like a snort of ether

First time drinkers will think it's like
Suckin' on a fire burnin' match 
It'll scorch yer mouth, torch yer craw
In heat that'll be hard to match

But if ya'll can't handle the stuff
We all wanna reassure
Use it fer cleanin' car engines
Makes a damn good degreaser

Taint got no fancy bottle 
Or frilly label neither
Don't drink too much or it might
Knock you out like a snort of ether