Majesty of the Blues

Back when I was a college radio DJ, I spent a lot of time listening to and playing Jazz. You might even say that I was earnest about it.

I owned Wynton Marsalis' 1989 album The Majesty of the Blues, another of his winning concept albums. It's pretty good, but the most distinctive thing about it is the track Premature Autopsies. It's a lecture written by Stanley Crouch about the mission of Jazz, and how rumors of its demise are exaggerated. The sermon is delivered as if in a church by one Jeremiah Wright (you might have heard of him).

Anyway, I've always liked this track, if only because it was so much different than anything else I had heard. I played it on the radio several times.

And then tonight, as I was jogging through Golden Gate park it came on. It's not running music, but I listened to it as I have never before. And I loved it.



Put it on in your headphones, don't do anything else and give it a listen or two.

Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands

From Blonde on Blonde, of course:

With your mercury mouth in the missionary times,
And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes,
And your silver cross, and your voice like chimes,
Oh, who among them do they think could bury you?
With your pockets well protected at last,
And your streetcar visions which you place on the grass,
And your flesh like silk, and your face like glass,
Who among them do they think could carry you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace,
And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace,
And your basement clothes and your hollow face,
Who among them can think he could outguess you?
With your silhouette when the sunlight dims
Into your eyes where the moonlight swims,
And your match-book songs and your gypsy hymns,
Who among them would try to impress you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

The kings of Tyrus with their convict list
Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss,
And you wouldn't know it would happen like this,
But who among them really wants just to kiss you?
With your childhood flames on your midnight rug,
And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs,
And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs,
Who among them do you think could resist you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide
To show you the dead angels that they used to hide.
But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side?
Oh, how could they ever mistake you?
They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm,
But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm,
And with the child of a hoodlum wrapped up in your arms,
How could they ever, ever persuade you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

With your sheet-metal memory of Cannery Row,
And your magazine-husband who one day just had to go,
And your gentleness now, which you just can't help but show,
Who among them do you think would employ you?
Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole
With your holy medallion which your fingertips fold,
And your saintlike face and your ghostlike soul,
Oh, who among them do you think could destroy you
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

Crescent: on how to regard an old jazz album

If I had to put a time band around my years of Jazz fandom, I would pick 1991 through let's say 1999. After that, I spent a lot of time listening to Bob Dylan, and then just diversified.

But in 1991 I still remember buying a couple of contemporary Wynton Marsalis albums. He started one of his ambitous yet relatively soulless compendiums, this one being a 3 part album called Soul Gestures in Southern Blue. I liked it, and then bought some Miles Davis. I found some Coltrane.

Then came my years at the best radio station run by a university in Santa Cruz, KZSC. I spent 2 years there hosting an oft-moved show called the Jazz Hour. To a 3 hour sountrack of Jazz I tried to be funny and interview people of the world. And I discovered Freddie Hubbard.

Jazz was sort of like that, you kept stepping from one quartet to the next, usually following the knockout soloists. Kind of Blue is the best jazz album of all time, and look at the amazing folks who are playing on it.

Miles Davis – trumpet, band leader
Julian "Cannonball" Adderley – alto saxophone, except on "Blue in Green"
Paul Chambers – double bass
Jimmy Cobb – drums
John Coltrane – tenor saxophone
Bill Evans – piano (except "Freddie Freeloader") liner notes
Wynton Kelly – piano on "Freddie Freeloader"

So I often find myself pulling out and old album that I discovered 10-15 years ago and feel as though I'm catching up with someone I've known for a long time. This morning that's Crescent.

According to Wikipedia:

Crescent is a 1964 studio album by jazz musician John Coltrane, released by Impulse! as A-66. It features his jazz quartet group of McCoy Tyner, Jimmy Garrison and Elvin Jones playing all original Coltrane compositions, with the leader playing tenor saxophone exclusively. It is commonly regarded as the saxophonist's darkest album. Only the brief, infectious medium-up "Bessie's Blues", and a samba-tinged groove in the midsection of the otherwise sedate "Wise One", break the sombre mood.

Work

Are you working?
What kind of work do you do?

Uhh...
("Boy, what is it you want to do when you grow up?")

Aiyyo I'm gonna be on ti-dop, that's all my eyes can see
Victory is mine, yeah surprisingly
I've been laying, waiting for your next mistake
I put in work, and watch my status escalate

Now I'ma start collectin props, connectin plots
networkin like a conference, cause the nonsense is yet to stop
Jakes shake me down, haters wanna take me down
Break me down, CLAP all they heard was the sound
Yo I scoped it out, I took your weak dream and choked it out
Your bitch don't really got no ass, she just poked it out
on the deelow, I'm sayin, you versus me though?
We can do this shit right here, in front of your people
See time is money kid, and BS walks
And to me, it's funny kid when you meet heads talk
I see Feds stalk, they wanna dig up the dirt
Son is it me they hawk, cause I be puttin in work Son?

Aiyyo I'm gonna be on ti-dop, that's all my eyes can see
Victory is mine, yeah surprisingly
I've been laying, waiting for your next mistake
I put in work, and watch my status escalate

You cornballs get stonewalled, blackballed I own y'all
The veteran, runnin my plan I'm the better man
Crazy raw, doin my job like the mob
Blazin y'all, and disappearin in the fog
or a mist, and chicks can't resist what I kick
They be beggin for attention or some more of the dillznick
Word up baby, someone may have to get hurt up baby
Shit is mad shady, but I got to get the gravy
Platinum respect like the force of a tech
keep you hittin the deck, feelin heat in your chest
Bangin your thoughts with the hot onslaught
A kid got shot on the spot for goin where he should not
Viciously, I make history, instantly
Those other lame ass loser ass niggaz, they can't fuck with me
I'm doin my thing now, to lamp later on
Paid in the shade, with some fly gators on
But now I'm grimy as they get, mud on my pants and shirt
I bet you niggaz out here know, I be puttin in work

Aiyyo I'm gonna be on ti-dop, that's all my eyes can see
Victory is mine, yeah surprisingly
I've been laying, waiting for your next mistake
I put in work, and watch my status escalate

I Guess I Would Call This High Concept

It's the video for the single "Calgary" from Bon Iver.



The Album is out next week! It sounds beautiful and of course deserves a video this arty and abstract.

1982!

"Electric Avenue" is a song by Eddy Grant. It was released in 1982, and went on to be very popular, reaching #2 on both US and UK singles charts. It was included in the 1983 album Killer on the Rampage, and has been covered by several other artists since then. The song is named after Electric Avenue, a market street in the Brixton area of London, England.

The Whores Hustle And The Hustlers Whore

Speak to me of universal laws
The whores hustle and the hustlers whore
All around me people bleed
Speak to me your song of greed

Speak to me of your inner charm
Of how you'll keep me safe from harm
I don't think so, I don't see
Speak to me of your inner peace

Little people at the amusement park
City people in the dark
Speak to us, send us a sign
Tell us something to keep us trying

The whores hustle and the hustlers whore
Too many people out of love
The whores hustler and the hustlers whore
This city's ripped right to the core

Speak to me of heroin and speed
Of genocide and suicide, of syphilis and greed
Speak to me the language of love
The language of violence, the language of the heart
This isn't the first time I've asked for money or love
Heaven and earth don't ever mean enough
Speak to me of heroin and speed
Just give me something I can believe

The whores hustle and the hustlers whore
Too many people out of love
The whores hustler and the hustlers whore
This city's ripped right to the core

Ladies Room / Frisky Disco

Via SFIST, Ladies Room by Frisky Disco. Apparently filmed at the Blue Macaw on Mission, which used to be a place called 12 Galaxies. This is the Mission District in all its forms in one video. And it's fun to boot. Kind of captures the aesthetic of the last authentic SF film I can remember.

The Strokes: I'll try anything once

Haunted by this single from the Sophia Coppola film "Somewhere."

Ten decisions shape your life,
you'll be aware of 5 about,
7 ways to go through school,
either you're noticed or left out,
7 ways to get ahead,
7 reasons to drop out,
when i said ' I can see me in your eyes',
you said 'I can see you in my bed',
that's not just friendship that's romance too,
you like music we can dance to,
Sit me down,
Shut me up,
i'll calm down,
and i'll get along with you,
There is a time when we all fail,
some people take it pretty well,
some take it all out on themselves,
some they just take it out on friends,
oh everybody plays the game,
and if you don't you're called insane,
Don't don't don't don't it's not safe no more,
i've got to see you one more time,
soon you were born,
in 1984,
Sit me down,
shut me up,
i'll calm down,
and i'll get along with you,
Everybody was well dressed,
and everybody was a mess,
6 things without fail you must do,
so that your woman loves just you,
oh all the girls played mental games,
and all the guys were dressed the same,
Why not try it all,
if you only remember it once,
oooh ooooooh,
Sit me down,
shut me up,
i'll calm down,
and i'll get along with you,

Acuff Rose

I love Uncle Tupelo's song:

Early in the morning, sometimes late at night
Sometimes I get the feeling that everything's alright
Early in the evening, sometimes in the day
Sometimes I get the feeling everything's okay
Because everything cuts against the tide
When you're by my sideName me a song that everybody knows
And I'll bet you it belongs to Acuff-Rose
Children in the playground, the folks in the home
Anybody anywhere who's ever been alone
Because everything cuts against the tide
When I hear that sound.

The backstory from Wikipedia:

Acuff-Rose was formed by country music performer Roy Acuff and Fred Rose, a major Nashville music-industry figure who had a respected ability as a talent scout. Many country performers had been badly cheated in the past with regard to copyright and other rights to their creations. Many were unsophisticated and naive and were taken advantage of by unscrupulous agents, attorneys, record promoters, record labels and others. When they started their publishing company, a condition to the gentleman's agreement between Acuff and Rose was that "our company would be honest. The writers would always be taken care of. No one would act in a shady way".

Acuff-Rose had its headquarters on 8th Avenue South in the Melrose district of Nashville and was something of a landmark to those knowledgeable of the music industry. It was here that Hank Williams, to prove his ability to Rose, wrote what would become a major hit song ("I Can't Help It If I'm Still in Love with You") while Rose went out to a nearby restaurant for a cup of coffee. Rose formed a friendship with Williams, as he did many performers.

p.s. - I essentially posted the same thing back in 2007. But I still like the song and it came on shuffle this morning.

How to fight loneliness

How to fight loneliness
Smile all the time
Shine you teeth til meaningless
Sharpen them with lies

And whatevers going down
Will follow you around
Thats how you fight loneliness
You laugh at every joke
Drag your blanket blindly
Fill your heart with smoke
And the first thing that you want
Will be the last thing you ever need
Thats how you fight it

Just smile all the time
Just smile all the time
Just smile all the time
Just smile all the time

Color me Impressed

Everybody at your party
They don't look depressed
Everybody dressin' funny
Color me impressed

Stayin' out late tonight
Won't be gettin' any sleep
Givin' out their word
Cuz that's all that they won't keep

Put the party on the mirror
Oh shit, pass the bill to Chris
Intoxicated lover ending our french kiss

Can you stand me on my feet? (2x)

(Everybody) (many x)

Everybody at your party
They don't look depressed
And everybody's dressin' funny
Color me impressed

Color me impressed (4x)
I call it out (?)

"Children's Story"

From Wikipedia:

"Children's Story" is a single by London-born American hip hop artist Slick Rick, from his album The Great Adventures of Slick Rick. It is a tragic tale that can be interpreted as an implicit condemnation of violence and greed. It samples "Think (About It)" by Lyn Collins and "Nautilus" by Bob James. A testament to the influence of Slick Rick, his lyrics have since been sampled and reincorporated in countless hip hop songs. This song ranked #44 on About.com's Top 100 Rap Songs[1] and is ranked #62 on VH1's 100 Greatest Songs of Hip Hop[2].

This song was also re-interpreted by Mos Def and his version appears on his collaboration album, Black Star, with Talib Kweli.




here are Slick Rick's lyrics:

Girl:Uncle Ricky, could u read us a bed time story please, o please
(Alright you kids get to bed i'll get the story book. yall tucked in?)yea

Here we go,
Oncee upon a time not long ago,
when people wore pajamas and lived life slow,
When laws were stern and justice stood,
and people were behavin' like they ought to good,
There lived a lil' boy who was misled,
by anotha lil' boy and this is what he said:
"Me & You, kid, we gonna make sum cash,
robbin' old folks and makin' da dash",
They did the job, money came with ease,
but one couldn't stop, it's like he had a disease,
He robbed another and another and a sista and her
brotha,
tried to rob a man who was a D.T. undercover,
The cop grabbed his arm, he started acting erratic,
he said "Keep still, boy, no need for static",
Punched him in his belly and he gave him a slap,
but little did he know the lil' boy was strapped,
The kid pulled out a gun, he said "Why'd ya hit me?",
the barrel was set straight for the cop's kidney,
The cop got scared, the kid, he starts to figure,
"I'll do years if I pull this trigga",
So he cold dashed and ran around the block,
cop radioes it to another lady cop,
He ran by a tree, there he saw this sista,
a shot for the head, he shot back but he missed her,
Looked around good and from expectations,
so he decided he'd hit for the subway stations,
But she was coming and he made a left,
he was runnin' top speed till he was outta breath,
Knocked an old man down and swore he killed him,(sorry)
then he made his move to an abandoned building,
Ran up the stairs up to the top floor,
opened up the door there, guess who he saw?,
Dave the dope fiend shootin' dope,
who don't know the meaning of water nor soap,
He said(I need bullets, hurry up, run)
the dope fiend brought back a spanking shotgun,
He went outside but there was cops all over,
then he dipped into a car, a stolen Nova,
Raced up the block doing 83,
crashed into a tree near university,
Escaped alive though the car was battered,
rat-a-tat-tatted and all the cops scattered,
Ran out of bullets and still had static,
grabbed a pregnant lady and pulled out the automatic,
Pointed at her head and he said the gun was full o' lead,
he told the cops(Back off or honey here's dead),
Deep in his heart he knew he was wrong,
so he let the lady go and he starts to run on,
Sirens sounded, he seemed astounded,
before long the lil' boy got surrounded,
He dropped the gun, so went the glory,
and this is the way I have to end this story,
He was only seventeen, in a madman's dream,
the cops shot the kid, I still hear him scream,
This ain't funny so don't ya dare laugh,
just another case about the wrong path,
Straight 'n narrow or yo' soul gets CAST.

Good Night.
Girl:oh boy, that uncle Ricky is really weird
I don't know, what does he mean straight 'n' narrow or your soul gets cast?
I don't know, I think he'll be crackin' it up for us,... Good night

And Mos Def's version:

Child #1] ...and then Jackie Chan just started kickin em
like POW! POW! POW!

[Child #2] Whaaaaa??!

[Mos Def] Alright y'all, alright y'all enough of that
it's time to go to bed y'all
Time to go to bed -- I don't wanna hear that
You know what time it is, you know what time it is

[Children] Uncle Mos?
[Mos Def] Yeeesss?
[Children] Would you read us a bedtime story please?
[Mos Def] Okay, okay. Ya'll tucked in?
[Children] Yeessss...
[Mos Def] Heeeere we go...

Once upon a time not long ago
When people wore Adidas and lived life slow
When laws were stern and justice stood
And people was behavin' like hip-hop was good
There lived a little boy who was misled
By a little Sha-tan and this is what he said
"Me and you kid we gonna make some cash,
Jackin' old beats and makin' the dash..."
They jacked the beats, money came wit' ease
But son, he couldn't stop, it's like he had a disease
He jacked another and another, Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder
Set some R & B over the track for 'Deep Cover' (187!)
The kid got wild startin' actin' erratic
He said "Yo, that presidential I got ta have it..."
With liquor in his belly son, he made up the track
But little did he know that his joints was wack
The shiny A & R said "Great new hit G!"
"Whenever you need a loop, yo come get me..."
The kid got amped and he starts to figure
"I'm-a get dough like all-a these otha niggaz!"
So, he's in the studio workin' 'round the clock
For pop radio, jacked the beat to 'Planet Rock'
Was out in the street when he met this sister
Who couldn't sing for shhhh but the mix wit' her sister
Hooked up the track and in excitation
He decided he'd head for the radio station
But (But!) he was runnin' and he made a left
Was skeezin' at top speed and ran into Mos Def
I slowed the young man down and I started: "Yo money,
Yo, why you sellin' lies to our wives and children?"
He ran upstairs up to the top floor
Opened up the door then guess what he saw? (Who?)
JANE the chickenhead radio host
Who be yappin' 'bout beef between east and west coast
He said "This one's a bullet, you got ta give it run!"
The chicken said "Thanks." and spanked it #1
He went outside, was gettin' props all over
Then he dipped into his ride, the 4-point Rover
Raced up the block doin' 83
Some cats with Hennessey saw him at a R-E-D
He winked his eye like his star status mattered
They rat-a-tat-tatted to make his blood splatter
"You rockin' crazy ice and all you do is cling static
And rollin' down to Brooklyn late night is problematic..."
His eyes was bloody red, he hung on every word they said
They told the kid "Back down, that playa shit is dead."
Deep in his heart, he knew he was gone
But he grabbed his 45 and decide to blaze on
Wit' shades on founded had him astounded an'
Before long, the young man got surrounded
Those grabbed the guns, so goes the glory
And that is the way I got ta end this story
He was out chasin' cream and the American dream
Tryin' to pretend the ends justify the means
This ain't funny so don't you dare laugh
It's just what comes to pass when you sell your ass
Life is more than what your hands can grasp
Good Night!

(kids talking)
Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos
Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos (3x)

Knock 'em out...

A-nother...Mos Def...Black Star MOVEMENT...
presentation... CRUUUM

June 2010 Summer Roadtrip Music

It's turning Summer today, so let's start with 4. Eclectic, yes. And SUBJECT TO CHANGE.

The Good Times Are Killing Me

I rediscovered Modest Mouse this morning.

The good times are killing me.
Here we go!

Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
Shrug off shortsighted false excitement and oh what can I say?
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.

The good times are killing me.

Kick butt buzz-cut dickheads
who didn't like what I said.
The good times are killing me.
Jaws clenched tight we talked all night,
oh but what the hell did we say?
The good times are killing me.

The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.

Fed up with all that LSD.
Need more sleep than coke or methamphetamines.
Late nights with warm, warm whiskey.
I guess the good times they were all just killing me.

Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
The good times are killing me.
Enough hair of the dog to make myself an entire rug.
The good times are killing me.
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Shit-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead.
The good times are killing me.

Get sucked in and stuck in late nights
with more folks that I don't know.
The good times are killing me.

The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.

MJJ in His Prime

When he was still having fun

Absolutely Sweet Marie

Well, your railroad gate, you know I just can’t jump it
Sometimes it gets so hard, you see
I’m just sitting here beating on my trumpet
With all these promises you left for me
But where are you tonight, sweet Marie?

Well, I waited for you when I was half sick
Yes, I waited for you when you hated me
Well, I waited for you inside of the frozen traffic
When you knew I had some other place to be
Now, where are you tonight, sweet Marie?

Well, anybody can be just like me, obviously
But then, now again, not too many can be like you, fortunately

Well, six white horses that you did promise
Were fin’lly delivered down to the penitentiary
But to live outside the law, you must be honest
I know you always say that you agree
But where are you tonight, sweet Marie?

Well, I don’t know how it happened
But the riverboat captain, he knows my fate
But ev’rybody else, even yourself
They’re just gonna have to wait

Well, I got the fever down in my pockets
The Persian drunkard, he follows me
Yes, I can take him to your house but I can’t unlock it
You see, you forgot to leave me with the key
Oh, where are you tonight, sweet Marie?

Now, I been in jail when all my mail showed
That a man can’t give his address out to bad company
And now I stand here lookin’ at your yellow railroad
In the ruins of your balcony
Wond’ring where you are tonight, sweet Marie

Copyright © 1966 by Dwarf Music; renewed 1994 by Dwarf Music

Verses from the Abstract

I have my brother to thank for introducing me to this album, said to the best hip hop album ever.




Q-tip:
I had a dream about my man last night
And my man came by the studio
And his name is...
Busta rhymes in effect, shaheed is in effect
Phife did-awg is in effect
Check it out and give me my spect

Im movin, yes Im groovin cuz my mouth is on the motor
Use the coast in the mornin to avoid the funky odor
Cant help bein funky, Im the funky abstract brotha
Funky in a sense, but I play the undacova
Once had a fettish, fettish for some booty
Now Im gettin funky and my rappin, thats my duty
Brothas tend to jock on the style in particular
If you got the ego like some brothas, then Ill get with ya
But if I dont pursue, then I just dont give a (fuck)
My motto in the 90s is be happy makin bucks
Girls love the jim, cuz it causes crazy friction
When it goes up in and fluctuates the diction
I still understand the (uh!) cuz thats what I met her for
Im hooked on the swings, so just call me the music whore
Women love the voice, brothas dig the lyrics
Quest the peoples choice, we thrive it for the spirit
If you cant hear it, then get the wax utensils
Write my rhymes straight up, dont get with no fancy stensils
The rhymes we get is sweet, we stay away from tart
Our perfection is at work, perkin up the art
If you want to battle, I suggest you check your clock
Your demise is comin up and I want your man to watch
Be the prime example, I deep instilled the sample
Insignificance, here Ill place you on the mantle
Born up in harlem, reside down in jamaica
The girl I used to rock, her moms was a claker
Now what does that make her? the evil money taker?
The crazy move faker, I used that to break her

(vinia mojica singing in the background)
Phife is in the house, uncle mike is in the house
Bob power is in the house, tim latham is in the house
Wise men is in the house, brand nubs is in the house
The j beez, they in the house and de la, they in the house

I must regroup my thoughts and kick the next ones for my people
Please dont be deceived by ugly slice of evil
The world is kinda cold and the rhythm is my blanket
Wrap yourself up in it, if you love it, then youll thank it
Dont move to rebuttal, wave your hand for action
The ladies of the 90s want more than satisfaction
They want keys and gs, and all those illy things
If you want to, Ill show you, just what the ab can bring
I keep a tight net with my brothas ken and kenny
If the question is of rhymes, then Ill tell ya, I got plenty
The thing that men and women need to do is stick together
Progressions cant be made if were separate forever
I hooked this funky beat with the loop and the feature
With the funky singin by miss vinia mojica
So listen because the quest is led through the underground
My people been up on quest to long, no more will we be down
People tend to riff cuz they dont know the mental
People tend to bug cuz their beats are hard but gentle
Afro kinda lurks through the body of this youngun
Play like bobby byrd on your back and your comin to
The house of the jazz, of the funk, of the rhythm
All the goods are welcome, but if youre a villain
Ill just wait and debate, contemplate your arrival
If flexin is your motive, then you dont like survival
The abstract is speakin, the hard beats is reachin
The black and puerto ricans
Cuz their butt naked, streakin through the ever murky streets
Of the urbanized areas
Blastin out the speakers is the hip hop hysteria

Craig is in the house, pete rock is in the house
Cl is in the house, ultra mag is in the house
Nice and smooth is in the house, big daddy kane is in the house
Beatnuts is in the house, special ed is in the house

Yeah(7x)
This one goes out to my man
Thanks alot ron carter on the bass
Yes my man ron carter is on the bass
Now check it out
Born into the 91 decade
You gotta say the quest is on
And goddamn it, yes the quest is on
And we out!

The Girl From the North Country

When this shows up on shuffle you must pay attention. From 1969's Nashville Skyline.


----

If you're traveling in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
For she was once a true love of mine.

Well, if you go when the snowflakes storm
When the rivers freeze and summer ends
Please see for me if she's wearing a coat so warm
To keep her from the howlin' winds.

Please see from me if her hair hanging down
If it curls and flows all down her breast
Please see from me if her hair hanging down
That's the way I remember her best.

Well, if you're traveling in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Please say hello to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine.

If you're travelin' in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine.

Can't Hardly Wait

Not sure why, but on a Replacements kick.


I'll write you a letter tomorrow
Tonight I can't hold a pen
Someone's got a stamp that I can borrow
I promise not to blow the address again

Lights that flash in the evening,
Through a crack in the drapes

Jesus rides beside me
He never buys any smokes
Hurry up, hurry up, ain't you had enough of this stuff
Ashtray floors, dirty clothes, and filthy jokes

See you're high and lonesome
Try and try and try

Lights that flash in the evening,
Through a hole in the drapes
I'll be home when I'm sleeping
I can't hardly wait

I can't wait. Hardly wait.