Amos Carter's latest is actually a reworking of a Tugboat Jackson song Good Ol' Days. Carter talked to Tugboat, told him the changes he wanted to make, and Tugboat told him that he had changed so much of the song that it was okay to take credit for it himself. Amos opted to change the title to help differentiate between the two songs, added the question mark to convey the theme of the song. Amos puts a whole different spin on the music as well, as he adds a boogie woogie beat to it, speeds it up considerably as well. The song also uses a larger ensemble than his usual small combo. Some good solo work, and of course Amos lays down a solid bass with his slap bass playing of the bass fiddle.
I hear a lot of people my age People in their senior years Talk about The Good Ol' Days They wish to turn back the years
The Good Ol' days are now No matter how bad it seems To want to go back many years Is just a convoluted dream
One thing I know for sure Memory can be a fickle thing What I thought was so good Was really not a good thing
It's hard to 'member all of that Back to when you wasn't so fat When food and beer tasted better Before your taste buds gone flat!
The Good Ol' days are now No matter how bad it seems To want to go back many years Is just a convoluted dream
Humans are a sentimental lot There's bound to be talk of the past It can be fun to reminisce 'bout years ago Before so many you know had past
The Good Ol' days are now No matter how bad it seems To want to go back many years Is just a convoluted dream
Forgotten Bob is quite the political animal, as his 2nd song for Big And Tall Records is a song critical of Pam Bondi, Attorney General. We just learned that when he was in retirement he went back to school and got a Bachelor's degree in political science! Now just where on the political map he is we're not sure, but it's obvious he's sure not a Trump administration fan.
He shows a little of his past punk rocker days in this song as he does some howling and moaning. The song's got the hard driving rhythm that is getting to be a trademark, at least in the 2 songs he's recorded. We've heard he's got an entire catalog of songs about this administration and he's eager to record them. We'll take a look at anything he has, that's for sure! We keep bugging him for a picture of himself, but all he sends us is drawings, more like cartoon caricatures of his appearance. He looks different in each one that he's sent! So we remain uncertain how he really looks, but the associate who's seen him says the caricatures do him justice. He never looks the same twice in person either!
Blondie Bondie is her name Donald's ego is her game All he has to say is what to do She'll make it right afore she's through
She was picked for loyalty Don't nothin' else matter To Donny gotta bend the knee Stroke him, praise him, always flatter
It's retribution time says Trump So Blondie Bondie takes the stump Takes directions from the master Starts the ball rolling faster and faster
She was picked for fealty Don't nothin' else matter Drum up cases you'll see Even if it's fecal matter
Clinton, Bill and Hillary Are headed for the pillory Biden and Obama too On bogus charges she'll construe
And what 'bout them Epstein files? Gotta hide 'em, use her wiles So she redacts the files with a pass And parks them under her ass!
She treats Trump like royalty Don't nothin' else matter Gonna hide all his cruelty And the truth will scatter
I wonder if she goes on the make As a 13 year old for Donald's sake And tweaks his dead male libido As he drifts off into limbo
What will it be next, you all ask How will Trump take her ass to task Long list of people was nasty Shooting for number one patsy
Treats Trump with unreality Don't nothin' else matter And keeps up her mentality While Trump's lies keep growin' fatter!
Boxcar Bertha's latest is an easy listening ballad, and while she usually records just herself and her guitar, this recording has a gentle accompaniment as well as another voice joining her in the chorus sections. This other voice is an old acquaintance of Bertha's that is visiting her, a fellow rail traveler that's still on the rails. Here's some comments from Bertha herself:
Got an old friend visiting, and she volunteered to join me in the recording of my new song. We used to sing a lot when we'd meet up on the road once in a while, and we always blended together well. She's a natural musician, got a sweet voice, doesn't play any instruments besides her voice. She's getting long in the tooth herself and I'm trying to convince her to hang up the bindle and retire before she gets hurt or worse. Rail riding isn't for old timers, way too dangerous. Gotta still be agile enough to do some jumpin' and movin'. Be good if she retired to this apartment complex I'm in. Be good to have one of the old crowd around. But she's really dyed in the wool about it. Don't think she'll do it.
Now as for sitting on top of a covered gondola, that's a risky behavior. Gotta do it right. I only rode the freights going through mountains and such, anywhere the train doesn't go like crazy, like the mountains and any sections of track that have speed limits because the tracks are crummy. You don't want to plop your ass down on top of a car that's gonna get up to 60 mph or faster. Way too dangerous. And it's best to do it on a cooler day, can get plenty hot on top of metal cars. And I always found a piece of wood like an old board to put between my ass and the car. But I'm telling you, get on top of a long string of cars on a nice day with the wind in your face, nothing like it!
Bertha's singing partner preferred if her name wasn't mentioned, and we have honored that request. Rail riders are notorious about maintaining their anonymity. What they do is illegal, and they can get hit with some heavy penalties and jail time if caught.
My younger days I used to like Get on top a covered gondola Hitch my leg through a ladder step Wasn't much that I were fonder
On a beautiful day with sun The train always made a breeze My mind would drift and play its games I could ride as much as I pleased
Spent most my time on the rails All by myself and alone But it was good, was free and all All my anxieties had flown
It's funny, being a rail rider Made me feel secure, no worry Knew what I needed to get by Never to be in a hurry
I've talked to people that have said Why in the world do you do it? Tried to explain, seldom got through Just said not all made to do it
Spent most my time on the rails All by myself and alone But it was good, was free and all All my anxieties had flown
Few times I'd get me a job To build up my funds when near broke But after a while, my skin would crawl Felt like I was going to choke
So I'd get my gear all ready Tell my boss I'm on my way Always left on the best of terms Never know, might be back someday
Spent most my time on the rails All by myself and alone But it was good, was free and all All my anxieties had flown
Never thought I'd see the day I'd end up livin' this way In a small place in a small town But it's here I'm gonna stay
Too old to ride the rails no more One of the few that lived this long Many got sick, or otherwise died I'm lucky, I was healthy and strong
I've got enough to get by All I ever really wanted Freedom's not what it used to be That doesn't make me feel daunted
Spent most my life on the rails All by myself and got along But I'm here now, still by myself My mem'ries help sing my last song...
On September 16th, the priest at the church in the town of Dolores, New Spain, Father Miguel Hidalgo rang the church bell and called the townspeople together. He gave a speech the denounced the Spanish regime that had control of the country and urged his parishioners to revolt. This is considered the historical beginning of the Mexican War of Independence. Father Hidalgo himself walked through the country gathering people to join his revolutionary army, and there was 90,000 people who followed him. Despite little training and poorly armed, initially they had some success, but when they met professional soldiers on their way to Mexico City, they were defeated. Father Hidalgo himself was betrayed, captured by government soldiers and executed by firing squad. All of these events and many more atrocities committed by the Spanish army only bolstered the Mexicans tenacity, and after 10 years of bitter fighting, intrigue, and executions, the colonial government was overthrown.
September 16th is the equivalent of the U.S. July 4th, and is celebrated by the President of Mexico leading off the festivities by ringing the same bell that Father Hidalgo did in 1810, followed by El Grito de Dolores speeches. As there is no evidence of what Father Hidalgo actually said, there are many variations of it. The day is spotlighted with parades, fiestas, all kinds of food and mariachi music. No doubt Un Grupo de Mexicali is in for a busy day, and they sing this song in advance to alert people and get them ready for the celebrations!
El Grito de Dolores La campana rompió el silencio gris Dolores gritó Un fuego sin fin Con espadas al sol Sueños en la raíz ¡Viva México Tierra y corazón! De la sangre nació revolución Un grito Un pueblo Una canción Caballos corren Polvo en el aire La lucha arde No hay quien se calle Por justicia y fe Nadie se aparte ¡Viva México Tierra y corazón! De la sangre nació revolución Un grito Un pueblo Una canción
¡El 16 de septiembre todos los mexicanos deberían tener una gran fiesta para celebrar! ¡Viva México
The Cry of Dolores The bell broke the gray night So cried Dolores For an endless fight With swords in the sun Dreams of everyone
Long live México Land and heart! From blood the revolution start A cry A people A song Horses run Dust in the air Struggle has begun All people are there For justice and belief All will fight for relief!
Long live México Land and heart! From blood the revolution start A cry A people A song
On September 16, all Mexicanos should have a big fiesta to celebrate! ¡Viva México ¡Viva
The Widow Makers with their latest song The Storm shows a folksong-like quality. There is a prominent part for the violin, something not usually associated with rock bands, but we know some of the members have a history of playing together in a classical string quartet. They've used the violin before, as well as the cello in their songs. Another group of our artists that shows their versatility, and perhaps maybe sometime they could include a string quartet in a rock song.
When the storm clouds start to gather What you do is totally naught You'll find it don't really matter
With terror you will be fraught
The wind, the rain, the lightning Are completely disconcerting And the people that choose to stay The wind will take and blow away
Lay on your back in the meadow The rain fills your mouth and your eyes The river rises and starts to flow Despite your gurgling cries!
The wind, the rain, the lightning Are completely disconcerting But the people that choose to stay The wind will take and blow away
True to form, the powerful say The dead they deserved to die It's merely the price that they pay For not being special like I
The storm does not affect the worthy It ends for us like a bad movie No matter what the worthies say They're still gonna die anyway!
The wind, the rain, the lightning Are completely disconcerting But the people that choose to stay The wind will take and blow away
The storm does not affect the worthy It ends for us like a bad movie No matter what the worthies say They're still gonna die anyway!
The wind, the rain, the lightning Are completely disconcerting But the people that choose to stay The wind will take and blow away
We are proud to debut the work of a new artist; Forgotten Bob! We wonder sometimes about a few of our associates and the venues they haunt to find some of these musicians. Forgotten Bob is a mystery as far as his family background and origins, but he's got a musical history that's long and varied. We'll let our associate that found him tell about it:
I like to haunt dark-lit, out of the way, obscure places where music is played. Bar and grills, dives, holes in the wall, you name it and I've probably been there or heard about it. I found the dump that Forgotten Bob was playing in purely by accident. It was down a dark alley, with but one dim, bare bulb lighting the doorway with a sign on it that read:
FREETHINKING ADULTS ONLY!
Well that was enough for me! There was a few tables in front of a battered bar with an old lady bartender. Men were sitting at the bar, couples at the tables. The place was dimly lit, save for a small platform at the end of the room. There was a small band tuning up, a bass, drums, keyboard, a guitarist, and an other guitarist at the microphone giving the pitch. He was an older guy, a little weather-beaten. I could tell he'd been playing guitar for a long, long time by the look of his hands; signs of arthritis in his finger joints that had big knots. It took them a log time to tune up, as the guy at the mic kept cussing the others out for not being in tune. Finally, the drummer counted them down and they started. I admit I was surprised to hear what came out; a tight band playing in strict time, with the bass guitar laying down a solid beat. The guy at the mic had a voice that you could tell had been well used, but he sang well enough, and the first song he did was this one - THE TURD IN THE PUNCH BOWL. Well, I liked the performance and the song, so between sets I introduced myself to the band. The only one that spoke was Bob. I asked him what the deal was with the Forgotten Bob business, and he said he used to be heavy into the Punk Rock scene years ago, retired to have a family, and when his eight (!) kids were all grown he decided to try and get back into the business. He couldn't handle the punk scene anymore, and told me there ain't nothin' sadder than a geriatric punk! So he started a band to play whatever they wanted. Rock, Rockabilly, Country, right down the line. He wears his hair really long and piled on top his head. Must take a can or two of hairspray to keep it there because he really moves when he sings! He kept up his chops the whole time he was retired, and he's good!
And that's the low down. Forgotten Bob gave our associate the picture of him we've used, said an artist friend did it for him.
Never before in our history A convicted felon got the position Look up grifter in the dictionary You'll see his picture, no definition
In the crystal punch bowl of our land Trump's made a plop like a big ol' TURD Don't know if his actions we can stand Or if the country can live past his words
Has lots of trouble making up his mind First his thoughts are down, then they are up But I think his problem you will find He's really got no mind to make up
In the crystal punch bowl of our land Trump bobs and floats like a big ol' TURD Don't know if his actions we can stand Or if the country can live past his words
He uses the office to sell his merch Like bit coin and imported bibles Perfume that smells like body stench Books of wisdom that are just libels
In the crystal punch bowl of our land Trump taints the punch like a big ol' TURD Don't know if his orders we can stand Or if the country can live past his words
How in hell did he survive his past? Well, had plenty of help in that regard Could've got rid of him in the past But his party just saved the retard
He was out of office, steeped in limbo And his party years later saved him again With his views and mouth still akimbo Still got elected to office again!
In the crystal punch bowl of our land Trump fouls the punch like a big ol' TURD Don't know if his orders we can stand Or if the country can live past his words
Don't drink none a that there punch! It tastes like SHIT! How can we get past the asshole? How can we get past the asshole? How can we get past the asshole?
Buzzy Carlyle's new song is in quite a different mood than what's normal for him. He usually sings in a Dela Blues style, but this sees him in a lighter mood. Blues men are notorious for singing about their masculinity and sexual prowess, and for folks that saw him before all of his drug and medical problems, he fit the mold. According to them, his gigs in the old juke joints had a variety of songs with a good number of them bragging about his sexual conquests. After being near death, after open heart surgery, and all the damage his alcoholism and drug use caused, his need for a woman in his life right now is a surprise. He even admits his 'Mojo Don't Mojo No Mo' (evidently in this case referring to a lack of libido and everything that goes with that), but relates to how he can still keep a woman happy despite that fact.
Buzzy no doubt is a lonely man. He has plenty of company in his senior living facility with blues lovers stopping by to see him, but in this song he admits to missing the presence of a woman in his life. And to Buzzy's mind, if he can't keep a woman sexually satisfied and happy, no woman would be interested. Of course, seniors have a need for companionship, and if sex in any of its forms makes up a part of a relationship no matter what age, that's great. But isn't necessary.
But Buzzy's been feeling much better of late. People at the home tell us that he smiles more and is easier to get along with. We know he had a sense of humor in his earlier days, so maybe this whole song is just a big leg pull by a veteran blues man who's enjoying his renewed life. We sent an artist to his apartment to capture him in a portrait, (the one seen above) and it's the first picture we've ever seen him in where he's smiling!
I sure sung 'bout many things Even 'bout my poor ol' mojo It happened when I turned ol' My mojo don’t mojo no mo
So ladies, please keep this in mind Still admire ya'll near and far Might be too old to cut the mustard But I ain't too ol’ to lick the jar
That don't mean I'm dead all the way Still like to look at the young skirts Mighty fine wimmens out there Still can admire 'em and flirt
So ladies, can still take care a you Still admire ya'll near and far Cain't do no jumpin' and humpin' no mo But I ain't too ol' to lick the jar!
I ain't jest a dirty ol' man I come back mostly from the dead Health's good as it's a gonna git Got a little urge in my head
Been without a woman so long That kind of alone's a sad way To end all of my days on earth All alone on my last day
So ladies, please keep this in mind Still admire ya'll near and far Might be too ol' to cut the mustard But I ain't too ol' to lick the jar
