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!
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
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!
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.
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.
A while back, we here at Big and Tall Records got a call from the Mariachi group that records for us, Un Grupo de Mexicali. They remembered we had mentioned that we were in the market for a Tango band, and they knew of a bonafide Tango and Milonga band in Buenos Aires, Argentina. We had quite a long conversation, and they assured us we would not be disappointed if we wanted to check them out. They had heard the group in person once when they were on a tour of South America, and they were blown away. They told us that every player in the group is not only a talented instrumentalist, but a more than competent vocalist!
A recommendation like that from Un Grupo de Mexicali was good enough for us to send an associate that is fluent in Spanish to Buenos Aires to check them out with the added authority to sign them to a contract. He did better than that! He signed them, found a recording studio in the city that could make room in their schedule to record. Our agent brought back an album of 5 Tangoes, all original. El Gato insisted that the groups premiere release eshould be a 5-song album, something we've not done before. New artists generally have a first release as one song, but our agent told us El Gato was very convincing (and adamant) that it be an album. He also brought back a very lengthy, detailed report about the group and details about their leader, the man they call El Gato! and the rest of the players You can find the report here and the Interview With El Gato, Part One here, and part Two of the interview here. For profiles of the band members, go here
Beso de Luna - Moonlit Kiss
Us ojos me miran mi cuerpo te siente Un paso un suspiro La noche se enciende
Your eyes gaze
at me The night itself ignites First a step,
then a sigh The night itself ignites
Beso de luna Piel con piel Mi fortuna Sabor a miel
Moonlit kiss
Skin against skin My fortune A
taste of honey
Tu mano me busca mi cintura se arquea El ritmo nos junta la pasión no se niega
Your hand seeks
me out My waist arches The rhythm draws
us together Passion cannot be denied
Beso de luna Piel con piel Mi fortuna Sabor a miel Moonlit kiss
Skin against skin My fortune A
taste of honey
No hay tiempo no hay nada Solo este momento Alma entregada Puro sentimiento
There is no
time, there is nothing Only this moment Soul surrendered
Pure emotion
Beso de luna Piel con piel Mi fortuna Sabor a miel
A kiss by
moonlight Skin against skin My great fortune, taste of honey again Ya Canto el
Tango - I Sing The Tango Yo canto el tango porque es mi salvación si me invitan a bailarlo yo pido explicación Se me enreda la cola con tanta
distinción y hago una reverencia que termina
en empujón
(¡Ay, qué desastre!) Me sale el corazón
I sing the tango because it is
my salvation if they invite me to dance it I
ask for an explanation My tail gets tangled up with so
much distinction and I make a bow that ends in a
shove (Oh, what a disaster!) My heart jumps out of my chest Yo giro, tropiezo me pierdo al
marcar tu suela me mira como queriendo
juzgar Si doy un paso serio me sale otro
fatal Dicen que el gato cae de pie pero
yo caigo fatal
I spin, I stumble I get lost
when keeping the beat your shoe sole looks at me as
if wanting to judge If I take a serious step the
next one is fatal They say a cat lands on his
feet but I fall catastrophically Yo canto el tango yo canto el
tango (porque bailar, no, no, no) Yo canto el tango yo canto el
tango (y me sale mejor así) Un bandoneón me salva cuando
empiezo a caer yo canto el tango yo canto el
tango y me quedo de pie I sing the tango I sing the
tango (because dancing? No, no, no) I sing the tango I sing the
tango (and it turns out better for me this way) A bandoneon saves me when I
start to fall I sing the tango I sing the
tango and I stay on my feet Anoche en la milonga quedé por
aparentar me puse cara de héroe y me fui de
cola al bar La dama me dijo suave"¿usted
sabe caminar?" le dije "sé una cosa: sé
sufrir y sé cantar" (¡Qué elegancia!) No miento, soy así
Last night at the milonga I
showed up just to keep up appearances I put on my hero face and fell
tail-first into the bar The lady said to me softly,
"Do you know how to walk?" I told her, "I know one
thing: I know how to suffer and I know how to sing" (What elegance!) I'm not lying, that's just how
I am Intento un giro noble me gana la
balanza mi sombra va de frente mi cuerpo
va con demora Si hago media vuelta rompo la
porcelana y el maestro de pista ya me
persigue con la cara
I attempt a noble turn gravity
wins the balance game my shadow goes forward my body lags behind If I do a half-turn I break the
porcelain and the floor manager is
already chasing me with "the look" Yo canto
el tango yo canto el tango (porque bailar, no, no, no) Yo canto el tango yo canto el
tango (y me sale mejor así) Un bandoneón me salva cuando
empiezo a caer yo canto el tango yo canto el tango y me quedo de pie
I sing the tango I sing the
tango (because dancing? No, no, no) I sing the tango I sing the
tango (and it turns out better for me
this way) A bandoneon saves me when I
start to fall I sing the tango I sing the
tango and I stay on my feet Si tú quieres verme hacerlo de
verdad ponme una silla cerca y un vaso
para afinar Yo hago el drama entero la pose,
la intensidad pero al primer dos-cuatro me
pierdo en la mitad (Señor bandoneón) No me deje rodar
If you want to see me really do
it right put a chair near me and a glass
to tune my voice I'll do the whole drama the
pose, the intensity but at the first two-four time
signature I get lost right in the middle (Mr. Bandoneon) Don't let me
fall Yo canto el tango yo canto el
tango (porque bailar, no, no, no) Yo canto el tango yo canto el
tango (y me sale mejor así) Si el suelo se complica yo lo dejo
caer yo canto
el tango yo canto el tango y me
quedo de pie Yo canto el tango yo canto el
tango (porque bailar, no, no, no) I sing the tango I sing the
tango (because dancing? No, no, no) I sing the tango I sing the
tango (and it turns out better for me
this way) If the floor gets complicated I
just let it fall I sing the tango I sing the
tango and I stay on my feet I sing the tango I sing the tango (because dancing? No, no, no) Vuelve el Patio -
The Courtyard Memory
Yo guardo la llave de aquel patio
azul, donde tu risa me volvía luz. La ropa en el alambre, la tarde en
flor, y en la mesa vieja tu voz y mi
amor.
Ay, cómo duele volver a mirar, todo tan cerca tan lejos ya.
I hold the key to
that blue courtyard, where your
laughter turned me into light. Clothes on the
line, the afternoon in bloom, and on the old
table, your voice and my love. Oh, how it hurts
to look back again— everything so near,
yet now so far away. Vuelve el patio, vuelve el ayer Vuelve en mi pecho tu modo de ser Vuelve el patio vuelve a nacer Todo lo que fuimos y ya no es
The courtyard
returns, yesterday returns; within my heart
returns the essence of you. The courtyard returns,
it is born anew— everything we once
were, and are no more. Baila la memoria sobre el mantel, tengo en las manos polvo de papel. La radio en silencio, la puerta
también, y yo te nombro como la primera
vez.
Ay, cómo tiemblan mis ganas de
hablar, si en cada esquina te vuelvo a
encontrar.
Memory dances
across the tablecloth; in my hands, I
hold nothing but paper dust. The radio is
silent, the door is silent too; and I speak your
name just like the very first time. Oh, how my urge to
speak begins to tremble, when at every
corner I find you once again. Vuelve el patio, vuelve el ayer vuelve en mi pecho tu modo de ser Vuelve el patio, vuelve a nacer todo lo que fuimos y ya no es
The courtyard
returns, yesterday returns; within my heart
returns the essence of you. The courtyard
returns, it is born anew— everything we once
were, and are no more. Si cierro los ojos te oigo llegar, con tus zapatos golpeando el
umbral. Y aunque la vida me quiera llevar, yo me quedo aquí para recordar.
If I close my
eyes, I hear you arriving— the sound of your
shoes tapping against the threshold. And though life
itself may try to pull me away, I remain right
here, simply to remember. Vuelve el patio vuelve el ayer vuelve en mi pecho tu modo de ser Vuelve el patio, vuelve a nacer todo lo que fuimos y ya no es
The courtyard
returns, yesterday returns; within my heart
returns the essence of you. The courtyard
returns, it is born anew— everything we once
were, and are no more. Baila Conmigo -
Dance With Me Te vi entrar con tu vestido al
viento y el salón se quedó sin aliento Tu risa me llamó desde la mesa del fondo y yo dejé mi pena apoyada en un
hombro
I saw you enter
with your dress flowing in the breeze, and the whole room
was left breathless. Your laughter
called out to me from the table in the back, and I left my
sorrow resting upon a shoulder.
Dame la mano vení más cerca que esta noche larga pide tu
vuelta Si me mirás así se me desarma todo y en un paso tuyo me pierdo yo
solo
Give me your
hand,come a little closer, for this long
night begs for your return. If you look at me
like that, I completely fall apart; and with just a
single step of yours, I lose myself entirely.
Baila conmigo toda la noche Baila conmigo que nadie nos roce Baila conmigo pegada a mi pecho Baila conmigo y olvido el resto
Dance with me all
through the night. Dance with me— let
no one brush against us. Dance with me,
pressed tight against my chest. Dance with me, and
I forget the rest.
Suda el salón late la madera tu pollera dibuja una frontera Yo te sigo el pulso sin hacer
preguntas porque en tu cintura se me ordena
la ruta
The room grows
warm with sweat,the wooden floorboards pulse; your skirt traces
out a boundary between us. I follow your
rhythm without asking questions, for in the curve
of your waist, my path becomes clear.
Tu perfume queda sobre mi camisa y en cada giro tuyo la pena se me
va de prisa
Your perfume
lingers upon my shirt, and with every
turn you take, my sorrow quickly fades away.
Dame la mano vení conmigo que el mundo afuera ya quedó
dormido Si me buscás la boca yo te la
contesto con un beso corto y un abrazo
abierto
Give me your hand,
come along with me, for the world
outside has already fallen asleep. If you seek my
lips,I will answer you with a brief kiss
and an open embrace.
Baila conmigo toda la noche Baila conmigo que nadie nos roce Baila conmigo pegada a mi pecho Baila conmigo y olvido el resto Dance with me all
through the night. Dance with me— let
no one brush against us. Dance with
me,pressed tight against my chest. Dance with me, and
I forget the rest. Cuando amanezca que nos encuentre
juntos con los zapatos gastados y el
corazón al punto Si todo se apaga quedate en mi
centro yo te guardo esta vuelta como un
fuego lento
When dawn breaks
let it find us still together— our shoes worn
thin, our hearts beating in perfect time. If all the lights
go out, stay right here at my center; I will cherish
this moment with you like a slow, smoldering fire.
Baila conmigo toda la noche Baila conmigo que nadie nos roce Baila conmigo pegada a mi pecho Baila conmigo para siempre, mi
tiempo
Dance with me all
through the night. Dance with me—let
no one brush against us. Dance with
me,pressed tight against my chest. Dance with me—forever, my love.
Camaleón Fernet -
Fernet Chameleon
Yo canto el tango ya lo saben bien Muevo la lengua como un tren. Pero esta noche en el bodegón Me encontré con un negro camaleón. Fernet con coca un vaso dos Y la garganta... ¡perdió la voz
I sing the tango you all know
it well I move my tongue like a train. But tonight in the tavern I crossed paths with a black
chameleon. Fernet and Coke one glass, two And my throat has lost its
voice!
Ya lo s-siento en el paladar ¡Che, bandoneón dejá de girar! La letra era triste de puro dolor Pero m'está f-fallando el motor. ¿Era "mi barrio"o era
"mi barro"? ¡S'me pegan los dientes parezco un
cacharro!
I can already f-feel it on my
palate. Hey, bandoneon stop spinning! The lyrics were sad, pure
heartbreak. But my engine is f-failing me. Was it "my neighborhood"or
was it "my mud"? My teeth are sticking
together... Like covered in crud!
¡Ferné' de coca m'hace f-fataaaal! El tango se f-fue ¡un desastre total! Quise cantar como Gardel Y m'estoy cayendo de
la pared. Fernet and Coke is f-fatal for me! The tango is g-gone a total disaster! I wanted to sing like Carlos Gardel... And I'm falling down right off the wall.
¡Hic! ¡Salud! ¡Watch out! Yo m'quedo de pie… ¡Ssss-tá l-listo!
Hiccup!Cheers!
Watch out! I stay on my feet It's
r-ready!...
Ada Shymore, after trying various styles, has found her style in jazz. The first song she recorded for Big And Tall Records was No Way, Big Boy!, a song concerning a refusal to engage in sex with an over-endowed man. Her language was as raunchy as befits the subject, but we've never rejected a song because of language. We look for music and expressive qualities above language. Like it or not, modern times has seen formerly taboo words and phrases being heard in the mainstream. Having said that, it's been interesting to see Ms Shymore's evolution that has gone through rock, pop, the profane, and jazz.
Ms Shymore is still associated with the musicians that make up The Boogie Men, but by mutual agreement, she's dropped them from her recordings. She still works with them, but not exclusively as she works with other groups, some of them that are recording artists with us
Yeah, I may look like a real hot chick But I'm trouble wearin' red lipstick!
You might think I'm a pushover But you don't know how wrong you are Might think I'm like a bed of clover My resistance is ajar That I'm all painted up because I need all the help I can get But I ain't lookin'
for no Santa Claus Trust me, I can be a real threat
Be honest with me, you'll likely see A woman that is faithful and true But I can be trouble in the nth degree If you treat me like an old dirty shoe
Yeah, I may look like a real hot chick But I'm trouble wearin' red lipstick!
Now all that might seem I'm a drag Man, that's furthest from the truth! Ain't talkin' to you
no gag But I sure ain't no kissin' booth! You get skiddish bein' honest Best haul your ass away from me You can do that what you've promised I'll do it too, I guarantee
Be honest of mind, you'll likely find A woman that will treat you right But if you think that I am blind You ain't never seen such a sight!
I could be a really hot lady But if you're anything shady Be warned, I don't sulk and pout! I'll chew you up and spit you out!
.jfif)
