Then there's the case of Shanda Lee, BSN. That's right, she's a Bachelor of Science Nurse in a major hospital. She sings in local venues when she's not working, and she says it helps her to relax and unwind from the stresses of a nursing career. We were told about her singing skills from some folks that were patients from hers in the hospital. She loves to sing, and when she gets the chance she sings to the patients that like it. So we gave her a chance to not only sing, but sing a song of her own composing. A song on the profane side, but indicative of the pop star songs she likes to sing the most!
POCKET ROCKET
When women get together, sometimes they say things ‘bout their old mans junk.
How big they are, which way they sway,
some, OH LORD!, big as an elephant’s trunk!
But I’m here to tell ya sisters, Hear what I say!
Gimme a pocket rocket any day!
Gimme a pocket rocket,
I’ll take a pocket rocket!
Don’t matter what ya’ll say,
Gimme a rocket any day!
I'll tell ya'll somethin'. I've had a few men.
Some nice and loving, some nasty and crude.
Some of those had a big one, but keep 'em away!
They're so nasty, so selfish and rude.
Gimme a pocket rocket,
I’ll take a pocket rocket!
Don’t matter what ya’ll say,
Gimme a rocket any day!
Now mind ya, not all big dicks that way!
But the one I had pulled down his pants,
waved it in front of me, and stood there showing it off!
Like a baseball bat, hard as a rock,
should have been on a leash with a choke chain!
Ain’t no way I was takin’ that cock!
Gimme a pocket rocket,
I’ll take a pocket rocket!
Don’t matter what ya’ll say,
Gimme a rocket any day!
Got a good man now, and he’s so sweet.
Treats me so good, and gets me off first!
I love him! I love complete!!
You hear what I say? HE GETS ME OFF FIRST!!!
After that I’ll take care of him, whatever he wants,
I’ll tell ya the truth, I love whatever I do,
To please him over and over again,
On top of that, his rocket won’t choke you!
Gimme a pocket rocket,
I’ll take a pocket rocket!
Don’t matter what ya’ll say,
Gimme a rocket any day!
I love him like no other, we’re close as close as can be.
Two peas in a pod, match up so well, I’m happy it’s true.
I’ve learned about fuckin’,a revelation for me,
I’d rather scoot up close to a short one,
han skin my ass gettin’ away from a big one! OH YEAH!
Now we come to this group, a hard group to pin down, as the personnel changes so frequently, and the name of the group almost as often. Musicians drift into the group when they need a gig, that is in fact why the group was formed. Some out of work rhythm and blues men got together and played local joints until they could get better gigs. They're all seasoned musicians, and play off the cuff as well as any other experienced band.
This incarnation of the group seems to be more or less permanent, as all of them are getting up there in age and don't travel as well as they did, plus with age comes health issues.
Billy Gort, their magnificent big bass player is pushing 80, has had two heart attacks and an open heart surgery to boot. But he keeps going, still one of the best in the business. He's also the de facto business manager of the group and takes care of gig bookings. They're the house band of a modern take of an old juke joint out in the country, and they play 3 times a week. When they get hoppin' they can play for a long time at a stretch!
'She's So Fine!' is one of their standard pieces, and has never really been written down, music or lyrics. And when their hot, the lyrics get changed as they go, some times quite profane and vulgar! We managed to tone them down a few notches for this first recording, at least language wise! The lyrics below are somewhat of an estimation, but you get the idea!
She's So Fine!
The composer Pamela Fiske was a composer mostly known for her ad jingles, electronic greeting card tunes, and video game soundtracks. Her one foray into more serious work was her one act opera 'Last Straw'. The work has never been staged, but was played a number of times by the Harris Community Orchestra in their summer concert series in the park. One of those performances yielded this scene, the penultimate scene in the work. A marriage has been slowly falling apart, and reaches the tipping point when the husband crudely lectures the wife on her failings, and the wife counter argues and tells him to get out. The husband's scene has a full accompaniment, while the wife's scene is more subdued in accompaniment, but more passionate in expression. The work was written shortly after her divorce, and was somewhat autobiographical. As such, her ex husband brought a lawsuit against her for defamation of character, which brought the public performances of her work to a halt due to a hold order by the court. Sadly, the matter was held up in court for three years, in which time she contracted cancer of the pancreas and passed away. Six months after she was gone, the court ruled in her favor and the work was allowed public performance again, but by then the work had been forgotten.
The Husband:
Why do you make that face?
I'm just trying to help you understand your place.
Your role.
You know I love you! I love you! But I want a sandwich! DAMMMIT!
Why don't you take better care of me?
I’m your husband, you should take orders from me.
I know best. You know that I love you!
SON OF A BITCH!!!!Why'd you throw that skillet at me?
I just bought it for you! See?
You don't take very good care of me!
Despite all of that, I love you!
You should make me some food, NOW!
Make me a burger and fries NOW!
Hurry up! Make it fast!Hurry up!
Then you should scrub up the dishes now!
Scrub up the dirty dishes !
Hurry up! Right now!
I really don't want much, but I want sex when I want it.
It's your marital obligation!
Is that asking so much? DAMMMMMIT!
And take care of the house, have to clean it much better,
and take care of the kids. Take care of the kids! SHIT!
You should vacuum the carpet, NOW!
It's filthy and disgusting!
Hurry up! Plug it in! Hurry up! Make it spin!
Then give the dog a bath NOW!
Scrub up the dirty stinking dog NOW!
Hurry up! Don't make a mess!
You don't really care, I guess!
What did you say? Did I hear you right?
I don't do anything around the house?
What am I supposed to do? Huh?
Do all the work, do all YOUR work! DAMMMMMIT!
I'm the man of the house!
I wear the pants, Got the balls!
You do what I say! For your own sake, as well as the kids! Got it?
If I holler jump, you ask how high! Got it?
If I say shit, you ask what color and how much? Got it?
I say fuck, you say you want top or bottom! Got it?
It's really quite simple, yes? So very simple, even for you,
even for you! EVEN FOR YOU! So just do it! Got it?
Make me some food, right NOW!
Make me a T- bone steak right NOW!
Doesn't matter the time, consider I'm hungry!
Wipe the kids noses NOW!
Wipe the dirty kids noses NOW!
Hurry up! Right now!
Aren't you proud of the children? Don't you care about them?
Don't you care about ME? Me? ME!
Where are you going? I LOVE YOU!
I'm just trying to help!Just do what I say,
and we'll get along fine!
I take good care of you, don't be ungrateful!
GOT IT? BITCH!
The Wife:
You say you're the boss, because of two
little things hanging between your legs.
You think I should do everything,
because I don't have those two little things
(and I DO mean LITTLE) hanging between MY legs?
What do I think about that?
Or do I even have that right?
Am I stuck because we're married, in a never-ending plight of
DISRESPECT!
DISRESPECT!
DISRESPECT!
Cook your own food, ya bum!
Cook it real good if you know how!
I'm not your chef, I'm not your valet.
I'm not your breeding cow!
You don't have to mention the kids.
I take care of them all the time.
You helped make 'em, you oughta help take care of 'em,
don't you think?
You take better care of your truck, the dog, your man cave, your big screen TV, your six pack, than me! Or the kids! Or the house! SO...
Wash your own clothes, ya bum!
Wash 'em real good if you know how!
I'm not your washer woman, I'm not your friend!
And I'm sure not your breeding cow!
Am I just a slave to your whims?
To do whatever it is you don't want to?
What century are you living in?
I'm your wife! I'm not your damn slave!
What about the times I was sad, or lonely, or even horny, and you took off to drive your big truck? Spend time with the boys, down at the bar, and leave me here all alone! No more!
NO MORE!
NO MORE!
Mow the damn yard yourself!
Rake it when you're done if you know how!
I'm not your land scaper, I'm not your confidant!
And I'm sure as fuck not your breeding cow!
I've reached the point of no return. No use in talking to me.
I'm done, I'm through, I'm nothing to you, to you! TO YOU!
This is the end, you jerk!
Pack your bags and get out!
Don't give me any of your sass,
I'll call the cops on your ass,
and you'll spend some time in jail!
GO AHEAD! TRY ME!
Go on get out! Goodbye! GOODBYE!
Take care of yourself have your own life!
I'm no one to you, yes it is true.
And I'm sure as fuck, sure as fuck! Sure as fuck! not your wife!
We at Big and Tall Records pride ourselves in the diversity in the music we offer. There's no better example of this than Buzzy Carlyle's 'My Mojo Don't Mojo No Mo'. Buzzy is rather enigmatic over his origins and influences, but he's lived long enough to be influenced by the greats of the delta blues tradition. His music speaks like the veteran blues man he is. Dark lyrics set to a plaintive blues guitar, he sings about the trials of growing old. It is a song full of bluesy melancholy, that could have been improvised on the spot, or been played before and it's still in his head. His guitar looks like it's been through a war. He is lean, with white hair on his face and head, and his music speaks from the bottom of his soul. It's remarkable he still has a lot of his chops at and his voice is a throwback to the blues men that played in juke joints and gin mills of the past.
We hope we can coax him back into the studio. He was very reluctant the first time. But we want to hear more of this man's soul!
Many years ago oh back then was different you see.
Had pretty wimmens two,or sometimes three.
Now it has changed in so damn many ways oh,
I'll tell ya now my mojo don't mojo no mo.
Used to be king now I'm just a ghost in my own life,
Love was a river, now it's just a trickle of strife,
Cuddles Barker is a fascinating musician. For the most part, he sings and writes easy listening music, but the lyrics can make you stop and think 'what did he just say?' He calls himself a 'naughty' composer. He's the only singer/composer that we at Big and Tall Records have worked with that describes himself that way, and in a real sense he's right! His songs are smooth-sounding, and peppered with subtle (and sometimes no so subtle!) suggestive words and phrases. He tends to write music at the spur of the moment, and many of his songs are but two minutes long or shorter. But he's a talented musician and we're proud to give him the spotlight he deserves! He keeps wanting us as Big and Tall Records to join him in an adult slumber party with footie pajamas and teddy bears. He promises it'll be fun, and we can play some fun 'naughty' games (his words, not ours). We're happy to give his creative work an outlet, but we draw the line at a slumber party...
Cuddles Barker
Got my balls snugged up tight, my peter too,
My ass is warm and comfy like a turd in the loo,
So I’m askin’ you what could be any better than this!
A safari in my pants so goodie!
Wear a tight pair of jammies, a night cap too,
I feel so dang good so how ‘bout you?
Do you feel the same kind of crotch warming bliss
As a safari in my pants so goodie!
I’ll go to sleep with my crotch trussed up true,
and have dreams about going on safari with you,
but ‘til then I’ll have to settle for the solo sweet bliss of
Our mission at Big and Tall Records is to expose and promote unknown talented singers and songwriters. That leads us to work with some very interesting artists, but every now and then the 'interest' pushes the limits of our understanding and tolerance. Such is Percy McCoy, a man that grew up on a cattle ranch in Kansas. He's a country western artist of the first caliber musically. A fine singer of the style, a brilliant guitarist, a very good music writer, a VERY questionable lyric writer. Not that he doesn't have the talent...he most assuredly does. It is the SUBJECTS that can be seen as highly questionable, possibly leaning toward the side of perverted at times. But we will continue to give him a voice as long as certain lines aren't crossed. This song was written while he was going through the divorce of his 4th wife, (and he's only 34 years old!) and led him to write this song about a strange desire in a most questionable subject. No doubt written during emotional distress (and with the obvious situation of alcohol being involved), but it has a swinging rock-a-billy beat that 'grabs ya by the crotch' (as Percy likes to say). We are actively urging him to stay a little closer to the boundaries of decency, as there need to be an outlet for this talented musician.
Fishin' For A Big Mouth Carp
I’m sittin’ on the dock on a bright, sunny day.
Got my fish pole strung up, and my bait in the bay.
People pass by, and ask me how’s my luck,
I gotta reply that it ain’t worth a fuck!
I’m fishin’ for a big mouth carp!
Can’t be no bass, can’t be no trout,
Gotta be a rubbery lipped carp,
Cuz they got what it’s all about!
Lookin’ out over the glassy water,
I keep thinkin’ how things ain’t what they oughter.
Percy McCoy
All I want’s some action, but I know what she’ll say,
“Not tonight. I’ve a headache, there ain’t no way!"
That’s why I’m fishin’ for a big mouth carp.
Can’t be no bass, can’t be no trout,
Gotta be a rubbery lipped carp,
Cuz they got what it’s all about!
So I ain’t waitin’ on her no more!
When we first got together she fucked like a whore!
She says I’m too horny, that I must be sick,
But dammit, all I got is a lonesome old dick!
I’m sittin’ real quiet, then I’m aware,
Of my rod tip dancin’ and weavin’ in the air!
I give a big tug, but damn it don’t budge!
I give it another, I give a big nudge!
I start turnin’ the crank and reelin’ it in,
It’s fightin’ and rollin’, I’m cussin’ like sin!
I get it to the surface, and I yell out with glee,
Goddam, a big mouth carp especially fer me!
I pull it onto the dock, it's floppin' like crazy,
Don't want the whole fish cuz i'm just lazy.
I look the fish over as it struggles for life,
Then I pull out my big bowie knife!
Dang that's a big mouth carp!
Shore ain't no bass, shore ain't no trout!
Look at the lips on that slimey ol' carp!
Dang, I bet that's where it's at!
I aim my knife, and and aim it closely,
cut off the head and show it some mercy.
I toss the body back into the bay,
The head's all I wanted, any ol' way!
I got me a big mouth carp!
No puny bass, no sissy trout!
An ugly, slimy ol' carp!
And I'll show it what it's all about.
Put the head in a gunny sack and head for my truck,
I cain't believe I'm havin' such luck!
I drive to a place down a deserted dirt road,
Nobody goes down there I've been told.
Grab the fish head and stomp on some plants.
Stand by the truck door, unbuckle my pants,
Mah pants fall down over m' feet,
And now I’m gonna enjoy my real special treat!
I was fishin’ for a big mouth carp!
I caught one too, I’m ready to shout!
The head ain’t dead yet, of this nasty ol’ carp,
But I’ll still feed it my worm........that’s what it’s all about!!
Milford Boil is a strange man. Outwardly he appears calm and cool, collected most of the time. But inside is an artist that squeezes every ounce of possible emotion from any situation, no matter how mundane it may seem. His music can be highly emotional, horrific, highly paranoic He is a very tense, oversensitive artist that is quite difficult to record. This song is the first from an intended album, but he put so much into this single effort, that his physical well being was threatened. We at Big and Tall Records hold our collective breath for him to recover and wish him the best during his recuperation! Until then, enjoy this dramatic reading about a zit on his face!
It was there lookin' mean and greasy,
'bout the size of a Roosevelt dime.
I tried to squeeze it time after time,
Milford Boil In A Calm Moment
But it always made me feel queasy.
There was a hair sticking out of it too,
And my skin was all red and lumpy,
my skin was even more bumpy
as I squeezed ‘til I turned blue.
It kept defeating me at each turn,
No matter what I’d do!
Someone help me get through,
As my stomach is starting to churn.
It was the blackhead of Satan himself!
But I took the mirror from the shelf,
Held it close so I could learn
How to squeeze it out myself!
I pushed and I pushed,
til my thumb tips turned white!
It was a horrible demon, and put up a terrible fight!
But I saw the black crust arise from the must of the pus
Most people can't make a living out of something they really love to do. You have to pay the bills and put groceries on the table. But the next best thing is to have a job that pays you well enough that you don't have to work all day every day. Enough time away from work to do what you truly love. That's what the high-priced corporate lawyer Delmar Gentry does.
He's in great demand, can pick his cases out of a raft of well-heeled clients, and charge them the fee that a world-class corporate attorney is capable of getting. So he keeps his caseload light so he can devote more of his time to his passion; playing and writing music. Country/Western music, that is!
Delmar Gentry
Delmar is a man of high energy and many talents. He graduated top of his class from university, majoring in what he took for his profession calling; business law. His second major (as there's no way music could be his minor!) was music, and he's got a degree in each. He was primarily classically trained as a musician, and was on the way to developing a concert pianist's technique to go with his legal virtuosity. Then he went out to Arizona as part of a legal team that was representing a high tier business man in defense against litigation brought forth to him and his company.
Corporate litigation can get bogged down for many reasons. Some cases are ongoing for years. This particular case took about two months, and they were months that changed Delmar's life and ambition. He was surrounded by local music talent, from bluegrass fiddlers to dyed in the wool rockers, and he took to the country/western side with a passion. He hadn't heard some of the styles of c/w, and when he did he fell in love with them. Gone were his classical pianist ambitions. He took up the double bass, guitar, banjo, and other more folksy instruments. He started to write c/w songs and lyrics, and got very proficient on the double bass and guitar.
After a few years of really hard pushing his
legal career, he got some high profile cases that not only made a name for
himself, but lined his bank account with a lot of money. Soon he went out on
his own, hired his own team of lawyers and para legals, and became a c/w musician that
is highly respected, if not very well known out side of the genre. He hopes
that changes with this recording and upcoming ones.
The Old,Old West
I’m a young urban cowboy with plenty of loot,
I cain’t hardly ride and I cain’t hardly shoot,
But you can see yer reflection in my cowboy boot…
I love the old, old west!
Yippee ti yi yee, I live in the big city,
With cement and traffic and muggers a plenty,
But I’d rather be out in the big sky country…
Out in the old, old west!
I’m a corporate lawyer and I never fail,
To keep all the CEO’s ass out of jail,
But I’d rather be out on the dusty ol’ trail…
Out in the old, old west!
Yippee ti yi lee, the big shots hire me,
And I always sure nail ‘em with a big ol’ fat fee,
But I’d rather be out where a man’s truly free…
Out in the old, old west!
I got a good gal but I have some fears,
She likes champagne to my couple a beers,
She likes grand opry to my
Sons Of The Pioneers…
She hates the old, old west!
Yippee ti yi hicker, my gal’s a city slicker,
And she hates the cactus with needles that stick ‘er,
And the smell of horse shit makes her sicker and sicker…
She hates the old, old west!
My case load is heavy but when it gets light,
I’ll pack up my bags and then I'll take flight,
To an old west saloon just to start a big fight…
I love the old, old west!
Yippe ti yi fuddy, no more I’m gonna study,
Git dirty and grungy and stinky and muddy,
Git my knuckles all busted, and my nose awful bloody…
Out in the old, old west!
I got me some spurs and my lariat rope,
I’ll meander out there with an ol’ cowboy lope,
I’ll practice my walk and not look like a dope…
Out in the old, old west!
Yippee ti ti yo, I wish it could be so,
Watch the murky waters of the Rio Grande flow,
Do some bustin’ and ropin’ with the doggie and crow…
Welcome to our first blog entry for Big and Tall Records! A little about us first. We're a company that loves to find old, forgotten, never heard of musicians and music and bring them to the attention of the public. The more obscure, the better! We have a staff of six people that make the rounds as best they can to find unknown talent. Cheap bars, filthy gymnasiums, crashing wedding receptions, bar mitzvoth, anywhere there will be live music played. But enough about us! Let's move right to our first unknown composer!
Travis McGonigle and the tools of his trade
Travis V. McGonigle was born in 1926, and is still alive! He's an amateur composer
based in Bardstown, Kentucky, and at the
age of 98 is in understandably fragile health. He wrote a single opera on a dare from his pals at the General Store in Bardstown about 1949. Mr. McGonigle isn't quite sure of the exact date, but he knows it was after World War II. He was a self taught musician, taught himself how to play the jug, spoons, jew's harp, banjo, and the jawbone of an ass. It wasn't until he took up the dare to write the opera that he came to the stark realization that he could neither read nor write music!
So he found a piano teacher in nearby Louisville, and took piano and theory from a teacher whose name Mr. McGonigle has forgotten. After traveling to Louisville in an old Model T three times a week for two months, he figured he was ready to write the opera. After struggling for two years on the manuscript, not only with the music but the Italian he wrote the libretto in. When he was asked why he wrote it in Italian, he said, 'Just so I could show the stuck up bastards I could do it!'. After he finished it, he tried to get a run through with the Louisville Orchestra, but as he had no experience or name recognition, he was refused. Many times. So after a time he put the manuscript in a drawer and got on with his life. He actually was a barber himself, and based much of the opera on his experience.
Then years later, the tenor Luigi Trasudante was performing a recital in Louisville. He wasa staying in the town for three days, and while getting a haircut in a Mom and Pop shop, the conversation turned to McGonigle's opera. At the time it was just a rumor as no one had seen it. It tweaked Mr. Trasudante's interest, and with information and directions to Bardstown, he went to pay him a visit, if he was still alive. No one in Louisville seemed to know if he was or not. Luigi cancelled some recitals, rented a car and went to find out.
After asking the locals, Luigi was given the address of Mr. McGonigle, with a warning that we was old, and 'grumpy as hell'. But when Mr. Trasundante paid him a
visit, he was delighted in
the interest the musician showed in his work, and offered up his withered, decaying manuscript of the
opera. As Luigi began to turn the pages, he realized McGonigle's Italian was Italian only in the broadest sense as it was a mixture of English colloquialisms and broken Italian.
Luigi Trasudante
The musician was about to write off the trip as a waste of time, but he read the music and began to hear it in his ear, and he was impressed. Mr. Transundante knew he had to find someone that could make sense out of the mumbo jumbo of southern English, and quasi Italian. He offered to find someone who could do it, and to arrange the music to be more intelligible. McGonigle turned really angry and snatched the manuscript away from Luigi and began to cuss him out as he accused him of wanting to steal it and pass himself off as the composer! After some uncomfortable time passed, Luigi convinced him that was not his objective. He bundled McGonigle and his manuscript into his rented car and they went in search of a copy machine so McGonigle could keep the original as proof he wrote it. That seemed to calm him down, and after a few hours of feeding fragile pages into a copy machine (with the help of the local librarian who was an opera lover), the copy was finished.
The two went to the local Steak 'n' Shake with Luigi treating. To shorten the tale a little, Luigi found an Italian language professor who accepted the challenge after many refusals from others. The professor managed to make a clean copy of the libretto in English and Italian. Luigi paid him for his efforts, but the professor wanted no credit, preferring to stay anonymous. Luigi worked on the music along with some other musicians, and finally a clean copy of the music and a piano reduction was arrived at.
It is hoped by Mr. Trasudante's recording of this dramatic aria (even if it is rather profane) will give the music enough exposure to interest an opera company to put on a production. Mr.
Trasudante chose the English version to sing, although his accent lends a
distinctive authenticity to the lyrics.
NOTE - Instead of the proper English words 'What's The Matter', Mr
Trasudante has opted to use the broken English version of Wassa Madda. One version of the Italian translation of 'What's The Matter' is Cosa e la Questione, What's the matter, cosa e la questione, how does anyone get wassa madda out of either?
My ball sack shriveled up too!# My asshole turned blue!&
Louisa, dirty bitch! She give a me the clap*, the clap, the clap, THE BITCH!
Ain't no piece of ass worth this! Now I gotta go to the doctor for a shot in my ass,
and a bottle of pills!Now I know wassa madda my dick!
My Dick! My DICK! MY DICK! MY DICK!
@ Vulgar term for penis, as is prick, peter, wanger, dick stick, cock, johnson, weiner, wee willie winkie, tallywacker, etc.
# Not a symptom associated with affliction being sung about. A problem in addition to the one in question as discussed here.
& Ditto the above. Possibly an issue discussed here.
* The health issue sung about in the lyrics is most likely gonorrhea, a sexually transmitted infectious disease that has the symptoms of burning upon urination and the release of a pus-like discharge from the penis. More can be found here
