music/lyrics
LISTEN TO THE BEAT
MUSIC/LYRICS
cALLING LONG DISTANCE
Released: 2024
From the upbeat, ear catching opening title track to the moody closer, this is an album you’ll listen to over and over – and still find new things in each song.
Featuring 8 originals and four covers, done in the unique Hitman style, you’re sure to find lots of songs you’ll want to share with friends. Everyone who has ever shared a bed with a “bed hog” will relate to “Edge Of The Bed”, and in these times of strong opinions we need to recognize our “Foolish Pride”. The risqué “Watch That Thing!” and blues surf instrumental “Blood Alley” will keep the excitement flowing, as “We’re Gonna Party Tonight” is a testament to making good times no matter what.
The original approaches to “Folsom Prison Blues”, as a genuine blues tune, and the funky blues arrangement of the classics “I Know You Rider” and “Sunday Morning Comin’ Down” will surprise you (in a very good way!) “Calling Long Distance” is a fun boogie with a mystical twist, and “Side Pocket For A Toad” honors one of Hitman’s favorite beers, from the UK Tring brewery. The thoughtful “Back To The Blues” sets you up for the album closer, “Wide Old River” – a modern take on the format of field hollers and work songs.
LYRICS
What do you do when you have to reach someone, even after they’ve passed?
Call VERY long distance!
©2024 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved.
The Bob Dylan classic, done in the Hitman Blues Band style. This song is as relevant now as it was the day it was written.
Come gather ’round people, wherever you roam
Admit that the waters around you have grown
Accept it that soon you’ll be drenched to the bone
If time to you is worth saving
You better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone
The times, they are a-changin’
Come writers and critics who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide, the chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon, for the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who that it’s namin’
For the loser now will be later to win
The times, they are a-changin’
Congressmen, senators, please heed the call
Don’t stand in the doorway, don’t block up the hall
For he that gets hurt will be he who has stalled
There’s a fire outside and it’s ragin’
Will soon shake your windows and rattle your walls
The times, they are a-changin’
Come mothers and fathers throughout the land
And don’t criticize what you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly aging
Please get out of the new one if you won’t lend your hand
The times, they are a-changin’
©1963 Robert Dylan / All Rights Reserved
This was Kris Kristofferson’s first big hit, performed by Johnny Cash. It launched his career as a writer, and that led to his career as a performer.
This is our version – it’s nothing at all like the original, but I felt it was – at its heart – always a blues song.
Well I woke up Sunday mornin’, with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad, so I had one more, for dessert
Then I fumbled through my closet, for my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt
And I shaved my face and combed my hair and, stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
I’d smoked my brain the night before on, cigarettes and songs that I’d been pickin’
But I lit my first and watched a small kid cussin’ at a can, that he was kickin’
Then I crossed the empty street and caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin’ chicken
And it took me back to somethin’, that I’d lost somehow somewhere along the way
On the Sunday morning sidewalks, wishin’ I was stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday, makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’, half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin’ city side walks, Sunday mornin’ comin’ down
In the park I saw a daddy, with a laughing little girl who he was swingin’
And I stopped beside a Sunday school and listened to the song that they were singin’
Then I headed back for home and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin’
And it echoed through the canyons like the disappointed (disappearing) dreams of yesterday
On the Sunday morning sidewalks, wishin’ I was stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday, makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’, half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin’ city side walks, Sunday mornin’ comin’ down
©1969 Kris Kristofferson, All Rights Reserved.
Robert Johnson’s classic, done as a solo by Hitman. As he was wrapping up the first album (Blooztown), there was an acoustic guitar in the studio. He picked it up and played this, and the engineer said “Why didn’t we put that on tape yet?” Hitman said “I didn’t know if it should be on the album. Is it any good?” In unison, the producer and engineer said “YES! TAPE IT!”
When a woman in trouble,
Everybody puts her down
Looking for her good friend,
They can’t be found
You better come on in my kitchen
Hey, it’s going to be rainin’
I know
The woman I love,
I stole from my best friend
Some fool got lucky,
Stole her ‘way again
You better come on in my kitchen
It’s goin’ to be rainin’
I know
My baby’s gone,
Ain’t comin’ back
Took all my money,
Headed down the track
You better come on in my kitchen
It’s goin’ to be rainin’
I know
Went up to the mountain
Far as I could see
Another man’s got my girl
Lonesome blues got me
You better come on my kitchen
It’s goin’ to be raining
I know
©1937 Robert Johnson / All Rights Reserved
Another famous traditional that Blind Willie Johnson recorded. Aside from changing the melody and chords, I wondered:
What if John of Patmos was writing the Book Of Revelations, and some of the other gods stopped by? And told him their versions of the end of times?
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
John was writing, Buddha came by
Seven suns gonna fill the sky
Every creature will have to die
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
Brahma laughed and shook his head
Many cycles until I’m dead
Keep in mind the things I said
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
Odin said the worlds are nine
Ragnorok will come in time
Death will rise and I’ll face mine
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
Mahdi came to take a look
Said “you’ve written quite a book”
When I appear you’re off the hook”
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
Who’s that? Who’s that?
John the Revelator
Who’s that? Who’s that?
John the Revelator
Who’s that? Who’s that?
John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
©2020 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
Based on the traditional performed by Blind Willie Johnson
I heard this cut, written by the great hillbilly guitarist Louie Innis, performed by Wynonie Harris. It was on a fantastic compilation called “The History Of Rhythm And Blues, 1942 – 52” put out by Rhythm and Blues Records.
If you can find this collection, BUY IT. Not only does it have tons of incredible music, the book that accompanies it is a Masters course in R&B history, with lots of facts you won’t believe. It makes listening to the songs that much better, when you realize what that song meant in the history of music. Plus, they’re a cool company. My copy of the book fell apart, and they sent me a PDF version when I asked!
As for Wynonie Harris, well, here’s a quote from the book:
In an interview conducted after Harris died aged just fifty-four,
record producer Ralph Bass said of him, ‘Whatever age he was when he
died, just double it. That’s the way that motherf***er lived.’
Last month I went on a date
With good old Lucy Brown
We hit all the hot spots, we really tore it down
She’s five foot two with eyes of blue
Pretty as a queen
I didn’t know how pop was a city cop
And she’s just seventeen
Good morning judge, why do you look so mean sir?
No Mr. Judge, what can the problem be?
You don’t think I was part this affair?
It wasn’t me, it couldn’t be, I wasn’t even there
Last week I did my income tax
To save a little dough
I cheated just a little bit, I knew they’d never know
My wife said “you be careful
Don’t you mess around”
But I just laughed, they’re understaffed
It never will be found
Good morning judge, why do you look so mean sir?
No Mr. Judge, what can the problem be?
You don’t think I was part this affair?
It wasn’t me, it couldn’t be, I wasn’t even there
My wife and I, we separated
Just the other day
The last thing that she said to me was
“Buster, you will pay
You better send that check to me
Each week without fail”
I said, “Before I spend a dime
I’d rather be in jail!”
Good morning judge, why do you look so mean sir?
No Mr. Judge, what can the problem be?
You don’t think I was part this affair?
It wasn’t me, it couldn’t be, I wasn’t even there
©1950 by Jouis Innis, All Rights Reserved.
This is based on the famous tune that Blind Willie Johnson recorded in 1927. I changed the lyrics on the verses, and the general feel of the song, but I hope I kept the original emotion.
Nobody’s fault but mine
Nobody’s fault but mine
Now if I should die and my soul gets lost,
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
My mama taught me how to pray
My mama taught me how to pray
Now if I don’t pray and my soul gets lost
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
My daddy taught me how to think
My daddy taught me how to think
Now if I don’t think and my mind gets lost
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
My brother taught me to be good
My brother taught me to be good
Now if I choose bad and my life is lost
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
I should drink water and not wine
I should drink water and not wine
Now if I drink wine and my love gets lost
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
Nobody’s fault but mine
Nobody’s fault but mine
Now if I should die and my soul gets lost,
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
©2020 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
Based on the traditional performed by Blind Willie Johnson
Harry “The Hipster” Gibson was a fellow at the Julliard Graduate School, but his actual playing style was a mix of boogie, stride, jazz, and ragtime – combined with, um, shall we say, “unorthodox” lyrics. He was a force of nature at the piano in both playing and performance. Having grown up near Harlem, he spoke the way everyone in uptown New York spoke – jive.
This song, while it gave him notoriety, also landed him on the music industry blacklist – putting his career into decline. But he kept performing, and actually switched to rock in the 1960’s, then hard rock in the 1970s.
Look online to find other great songs by Harry, as well as a biographical movie short called “Boogie In Blue”. And read the Wikipedia entry on him for more info.
Mrs. Murphy couldn’t sleep
Her nerves were slightly off the beat
Until she solved her problem
With a can of Ovaltine
She drank a cupful most every night
And oooo how she would dream
Until something rough got in the stuff
And made her neighbors scream. OW!
Who put the Benzedrine, in Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine?
Sure was a shame, don’t know who’s to blame
Cause the old lady didn’t even get his name
Where did she get that stuff?
Now she just can’t get enough
It might have been the man who wasn’t there
Now Jack, that guy’s a square
She stays up nights making all the rounds
They say she lost about 69 pounds
Now Mr. Murphy claims she’s getting awful thin
And all she says is, “Give me some skin.” Mop!
Who put the Benzedrine, in Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine?
Now she wants to swing, the Highland Fling
She says that Benzedrine’s the thing that makes her spring.
Ah, spring it now .
There’s a second verse
It’s called, “Who put the Nembutals in Mr. Murphy’s overalls?
I don’t know
She buys a can of Ovaltine, most every week or so
And she always keeps an extra can on hand
Just in case that she runs low
She never, ever been so happy, since she left old Ireland
‘Till someone prowled her pantry,sure and tampered with her can. Wham!
Who put the Benzedrine, in Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine?
Sure was a shame, don’t know who’s to blame
Cause the old lady didn’t even get his name
Where did she get that stuff
Now she just can’t get enough
It might have been the man who wasn’t there
No Jack, that guy’s a square
She never ever wants to go to sleep
She says that everything is solid all reet
Now Mr. Murphy don’t know what it’s all about
Cause she went and threw the old man out. Clout!
Who put the Benzedrine, in Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine?
Now she wants to swing the Highland Fling
She says that Benzedrine’s the thing that makes her spring
©1947 by Harry “The Hipster” Gibson, all rights reserved.
This became Son House’s signature song, and it was based on a number of songs that came before it. Our version, as usual, is NOTHING like his. But it gets the right mood, and can be scary as hell!
Woke up this morning, got a letter that read
Said, “Hurry, hurry, the girl you love is dead.”
Woke up this morning, got a letter that read
Said, “Hurry, hurry, the girl you love is dead.”
I packed up my suitcase, and took off down the road.
When I got there she was lying stiff and cold.
I packed up my suitcase, and took off down the road.
When I got there she was lying stiff and cold.
Kissed her forehead, right where she lay
I said “My love, I’ll see you on the Judgement Day.”
Kissed her forehead, right where she lay
I said “Oh my love, I’ll see you on the Judgement Day.”
There was 10,000 people at her buryin ground.
I didn’t know I loved her til they lowered her down.
There was 10,000 people at her buryin ground.
I didn’t know I loved her til they lowered her down.
There was just four women I love in my life
My mother, my sister, that woman and my wife
There was just four women I love in my life
My mother, my sister, that woman and my wife
Hush, I hear her calling my name
It ain’t too loud, just sweet and plain
Hush, I hear her calling my name
It ain’t too loud, just sweet and plain
Woke up this morning, got a letter that read
Said, “Hurry, hurry, the girl you love is dead.”
Woke up this morning, got a letter that read
Said, “Hurry, hurry, the girl you love is dead.”
©1965 Son House, all rights reserved.
Recorded in 1961, this quickly became a blues standard – but pop bands played it, too! A straight forward version of the classic, recorded live at Stonybrook University.
Boom boom boom boom
Gonna shoot you right down
Take you in my arms
I’m in love with you
Love that is true
Boom boom boom boom
I like the way you walk
I like the way you talk
When you walk that walk
And you talk that talk
You knock me out
Right off my feet
I need you now
I mean right now
I don’t mean tomorrow
I mean right now
Come on, come on
Come on and shake it up
Come on and shake (shake it baby)
Shake it up baby (shake it baby)
You drive me crazy (shake it baby)
Shake it up baby (shake it baby)
Come on, come on (shake it baby)
Yeah, yeah
©1961 John Lee Hooker/All Rights Reserved
HEY, CAN YOU GUYS PLAY…
Released: 2023
Taken from our previous releases, this is a compilation of great songs that we covered, most in our own unique style. Now, that’s not hyperbole or boasting – the ones we customized really are completely different from the originals, and probably from any version you’ve ever heard before!
But don’t take our word for it – listen to the samples below. Plus, this album has a brand new song that’s never been on any previous album. It’s Kris Kristofferson’s “Sunday Morning Coming Down”, but you may not recognize it straight off!
If you’d like to get familiar with the Hitman Blues Band, and would rather start off with some familiar songs, this is the album for you.
LYRICS
Our take on the Willie Dixon classic
The gypsy woman told my mother
On the day I was born
You got a boy child comin’
He’s gonna be a son of a gun
He gonna make pretty women’s
Jump and shout
Then the world wanna know
What it’s all about
Because I’m him
Everybody knows I’m him
I’m the hoochie coochie man
Everybody knows I’m him
got a black cat bone
I got a mojo too
I got the Johnny Conqueror root
He’s gonna mess with you
I’m gonna take all the women
Lead me by my hand
Then the world gonna know
I’m the hoochie coochie man
Because I’m him
Everybody knows I’m him
I’m the hoochie coochie man
Everybody knows I’m him
On the seventh hour
On the seventh day
On the seventh month
The seven doctors say
He was born for good luck
Just you wait and see
I got seven hundred dollars
Don’t you fool with me
©1957 Willie Dixon. All Rights Reserved.
The Bob Dylan classic, done in the Hitman Blues Band style. This song is as relevant now as it was the day it was written.
Come gather ’round people, wherever you roam
Admit that the waters around you have grown
Accept it that soon you’ll be drenched to the bone
If time to you is worth saving
You better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone
The times, they are a-changin’
Come writers and critics who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide, the chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon, for the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who that it’s namin’
For the loser now will be later to win
The times, they are a-changin’
Congressmen, senators, please heed the call
Don’t stand in the doorway, don’t block up the hall
For he that gets hurt will be he who has stalled
There’s a fire outside and it’s ragin’
Will soon shake your windows and rattle your walls
The times, they are a-changin’
Come mothers and fathers throughout the land
And don’t criticize what you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly aging
Please get out of the new one if you won’t lend your hand
The times, they are a-changin’
©1963 Robert Dylan / All Rights Reserved
This was Kris Kristofferson’s first big hit, performed by Johnny Cash. It launched his career as a writer, and that led to his career as a performer.
This is our version – it’s nothing at all like the original, but I felt it was – at its heart – always a blues song.
Well I woke up Sunday mornin’, with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad, so I had one more, for dessert
Then I fumbled through my closet, for my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt
And I shaved my face and combed my hair and, stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
I’d smoked my brain the night before on, cigarettes and songs that I’d been pickin’
But I lit my first and watched a small kid cussin’ at a can, that he was kickin’
Then I crossed the empty street and caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin’ chicken
And it took me back to somethin’, that I’d lost somehow somewhere along the way
On the Sunday morning sidewalks, wishin’ I was stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday, makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’, half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin’ city side walks, Sunday mornin’ comin’ down
In the park I saw a daddy, with a laughing little girl who he was swingin’
And I stopped beside a Sunday school and listened to the song that they were singin’
Then I headed back for home and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin’
And it echoed through the canyons like the disappointed (disappearing) dreams of yesterday
On the Sunday morning sidewalks, wishin’ I was stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday, makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’, half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin’ city side walks, Sunday mornin’ comin’ down
©1969 Kris Kristofferson, All Rights Reserved.
Robert Johnson’s classic, done as a solo by Hitman. As he was wrapping up the first album (Blooztown), there was an acoustic guitar in the studio. He picked it up and played this, and the engineer said “Why didn’t we put that on tape yet?” Hitman said “I didn’t know if it should be on the album. Is it any good?” In unison, the producer and engineer said “YES! TAPE IT!”
When a woman in trouble,
Everybody puts her down
Looking for her good friend,
They can’t be found
You better come on in my kitchen
Hey, it’s going to be rainin’
I know
The woman I love,
I stole from my best friend
Some fool got lucky,
Stole her ‘way again
You better come on in my kitchen
It’s goin’ to be rainin’
I know
My baby’s gone,
Ain’t comin’ back
Took all my money,
Headed down the track
You better come on in my kitchen
It’s goin’ to be rainin’
I know
Went up to the mountain
Far as I could see
Another man’s got my girl
Lonesome blues got me
You better come on my kitchen
It’s goin’ to be raining
I know
©1937 Robert Johnson / All Rights Reserved
Another famous traditional that Blind Willie Johnson recorded. Aside from changing the melody and chords, I wondered:
What if John of Patmos was writing the Book Of Revelations, and some of the other gods stopped by? And told him their versions of the end of times?
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
John was writing, Buddha came by
Seven suns gonna fill the sky
Every creature will have to die
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
Brahma laughed and shook his head
Many cycles until I’m dead
Keep in mind the things I said
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
Odin said the worlds are nine
Ragnorok will come in time
Death will rise and I’ll face mine
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
Mahdi came to take a look
Said “you’ve written quite a book”
When I appear you’re off the hook”
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
Who’s that? Who’s that?
John the Revelator
Who’s that? Who’s that?
John the Revelator
Who’s that? Who’s that?
John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
©2020 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
Based on the traditional performed by Blind Willie Johnson
I heard this cut, written by the great hillbilly guitarist Louie Innis, performed by Wynonie Harris. It was on a fantastic compilation called “The History Of Rhythm And Blues, 1942 – 52” put out by Rhythm and Blues Records.
If you can find this collection, BUY IT. Not only does it have tons of incredible music, the book that accompanies it is a Masters course in R&B history, with lots of facts you won’t believe. It makes listening to the songs that much better, when you realize what that song meant in the history of music. Plus, they’re a cool company. My copy of the book fell apart, and they sent me a PDF version when I asked!
As for Wynonie Harris, well, here’s a quote from the book:
In an interview conducted after Harris died aged just fifty-four,
record producer Ralph Bass said of him, ‘Whatever age he was when he
died, just double it. That’s the way that motherf***er lived.’
Last month I went on a date
With good old Lucy Brown
We hit all the hot spots, we really tore it down
She’s five foot two with eyes of blue
Pretty as a queen
I didn’t know how pop was a city cop
And she’s just seventeen
Good morning judge, why do you look so mean sir?
No Mr. Judge, what can the problem be?
You don’t think I was part this affair?
It wasn’t me, it couldn’t be, I wasn’t even there
Last week I did my income tax
To save a little dough
I cheated just a little bit, I knew they’d never know
My wife said “you be careful
Don’t you mess around”
But I just laughed, they’re understaffed
It never will be found
Good morning judge, why do you look so mean sir?
No Mr. Judge, what can the problem be?
You don’t think I was part this affair?
It wasn’t me, it couldn’t be, I wasn’t even there
My wife and I, we separated
Just the other day
The last thing that she said to me was
“Buster, you will pay
You better send that check to me
Each week without fail”
I said, “Before I spend a dime
I’d rather be in jail!”
Good morning judge, why do you look so mean sir?
No Mr. Judge, what can the problem be?
You don’t think I was part this affair?
It wasn’t me, it couldn’t be, I wasn’t even there
©1950 by Jouis Innis, All Rights Reserved.
This is based on the famous tune that Blind Willie Johnson recorded in 1927. I changed the lyrics on the verses, and the general feel of the song, but I hope I kept the original emotion.
Nobody’s fault but mine
Nobody’s fault but mine
Now if I should die and my soul gets lost,
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
My mama taught me how to pray
My mama taught me how to pray
Now if I don’t pray and my soul gets lost
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
My daddy taught me how to think
My daddy taught me how to think
Now if I don’t think and my mind gets lost
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
My brother taught me to be good
My brother taught me to be good
Now if I choose bad and my life is lost
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
I should drink water and not wine
I should drink water and not wine
Now if I drink wine and my love gets lost
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
Nobody’s fault but mine
Nobody’s fault but mine
Now if I should die and my soul gets lost,
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
©2020 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
Based on the traditional performed by Blind Willie Johnson
Harry “The Hipster” Gibson was a fellow at the Julliard Graduate School, but his actual playing style was a mix of boogie, stride, jazz, and ragtime – combined with, um, shall we say, “unorthodox” lyrics. He was a force of nature at the piano in both playing and performance. Having grown up near Harlem, he spoke the way everyone in uptown New York spoke – jive.
This song, while it gave him notoriety, also landed him on the music industry blacklist – putting his career into decline. But he kept performing, and actually switched to rock in the 1960’s, then hard rock in the 1970s.
Look online to find other great songs by Harry, as well as a biographical movie short called “Boogie In Blue”. And read the Wikipedia entry on him for more info.
Mrs. Murphy couldn’t sleep
Her nerves were slightly off the beat
Until she solved her problem
With a can of Ovaltine
She drank a cupful most every night
And oooo how she would dream
Until something rough got in the stuff
And made her neighbors scream. OW!
Who put the Benzedrine, in Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine?
Sure was a shame, don’t know who’s to blame
Cause the old lady didn’t even get his name
Where did she get that stuff?
Now she just can’t get enough
It might have been the man who wasn’t there
Now Jack, that guy’s a square
She stays up nights making all the rounds
They say she lost about 69 pounds
Now Mr. Murphy claims she’s getting awful thin
And all she says is, “Give me some skin.” Mop!
Who put the Benzedrine, in Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine?
Now she wants to swing, the Highland Fling
She says that Benzedrine’s the thing that makes her spring.
Ah, spring it now .
There’s a second verse
It’s called, “Who put the Nembutals in Mr. Murphy’s overalls?
I don’t know
She buys a can of Ovaltine, most every week or so
And she always keeps an extra can on hand
Just in case that she runs low
She never, ever been so happy, since she left old Ireland
‘Till someone prowled her pantry,sure and tampered with her can. Wham!
Who put the Benzedrine, in Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine?
Sure was a shame, don’t know who’s to blame
Cause the old lady didn’t even get his name
Where did she get that stuff
Now she just can’t get enough
It might have been the man who wasn’t there
No Jack, that guy’s a square
She never ever wants to go to sleep
She says that everything is solid all reet
Now Mr. Murphy don’t know what it’s all about
Cause she went and threw the old man out. Clout!
Who put the Benzedrine, in Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine?
Now she wants to swing the Highland Fling
She says that Benzedrine’s the thing that makes her spring
©1947 by Harry “The Hipster” Gibson, all rights reserved.
This became Son House’s signature song, and it was based on a number of songs that came before it. Our version, as usual, is NOTHING like his. But it gets the right mood, and can be scary as hell!
Woke up this morning, got a letter that read
Said, “Hurry, hurry, the girl you love is dead.”
Woke up this morning, got a letter that read
Said, “Hurry, hurry, the girl you love is dead.”
I packed up my suitcase, and took off down the road.
When I got there she was lying stiff and cold.
I packed up my suitcase, and took off down the road.
When I got there she was lying stiff and cold.
Kissed her forehead, right where she lay
I said “My love, I’ll see you on the Judgement Day.”
Kissed her forehead, right where she lay
I said “Oh my love, I’ll see you on the Judgement Day.”
There was 10,000 people at her buryin ground.
I didn’t know I loved her til they lowered her down.
There was 10,000 people at her buryin ground.
I didn’t know I loved her til they lowered her down.
There was just four women I love in my life
My mother, my sister, that woman and my wife
There was just four women I love in my life
My mother, my sister, that woman and my wife
Hush, I hear her calling my name
It ain’t too loud, just sweet and plain
Hush, I hear her calling my name
It ain’t too loud, just sweet and plain
Woke up this morning, got a letter that read
Said, “Hurry, hurry, the girl you love is dead.”
Woke up this morning, got a letter that read
Said, “Hurry, hurry, the girl you love is dead.”
©1965 Son House, all rights reserved.
Recorded in 1961, this quickly became a blues standard – but pop bands played it, too! A straight forward version of the classic, recorded live at Stonybrook University.
Boom boom boom boom
Gonna shoot you right down
Take you in my arms
I’m in love with you
Love that is true
Boom boom boom boom
I like the way you walk
I like the way you talk
When you walk that walk
And you talk that talk
You knock me out
Right off my feet
I need you now
I mean right now
I don’t mean tomorrow
I mean right now
Come on, come on
Come on and shake it up
Come on and shake (shake it baby)
Shake it up baby (shake it baby)
You drive me crazy (shake it baby)
Shake it up baby (shake it baby)
Come on, come on (shake it baby)
Yeah, yeah
©1961 John Lee Hooker/All Rights Reserved
NOT MY CIRCUS, NOT MY MONKEY
Released: 2020
This album contains ten new original songs, and one cover (done in the Hitman Blues Band style). Featuring captivating vocals, blistering solos, and a rhythm section pushing a consistently intense groove, it also boasts captivating lyrics ranging from light hearted to tragic. The recording starts off with “Not My Circus, Not My Monkey”, a line you’ll probably be using regularly from now on. This is followed by the tongue in cheek “Buy That Man A Drink”, as it’s far from an act of charity. Then comes a complete re-working of Blind Willie Johnson’s “Nobody’s Fault But Mine”, including all new lyrics that stay true to the spirit of the original. Keeping with Mr. Johnson, there is “John The Revelator” performed in a unique Hitman Blues Band style – and imagining that other gods stop by and reveal their own end-of-times scenarios to John. The heart wrenching ballad “No Place Like Home” offers somber reflection, and then comes a version of Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changin’” like you’ve never heard it before. The groove infused “You Can’t Say No” is followed by the light hearted come-on of “Walk With You”, which sets up the attempt to explain overpowering love in “You Don’t Understand”. The album takes a turn back to the late 1950’s influenced “Everybody But Me”, a comic take on hipster loneliness. The closing tune is the anthem for every artist who pushes on no matter what, “Go Down Fighting”.
LYRICS
Paul Gilmore turned me on to this saying, which has now become my “go to” phrase. It might become yours, too…
I met this lady with a winning smile
We had some drinks and then we talked awhile
She leaned in close and whispered in my ear
“I hope my boyfriend doesn’t show up here”
She said her ex had kind of lost his mind
On top of that, he was the jealous kind
Special forces, till they kicked him out”
Then she looked around to see if he’s about
She said “be ready, things might get funky”
I said,
“Whoa, not my circus, not my monkeys”
Monkey see, monkey do
Monkey see, but I’m not you
I got a burger from the all-night stand
This guy walks over with an open hand
He says “hey buddy, can you spare some change?
I haven’t eaten and I’m feeling strange”
I said “pick something” but he shook his head
“if you don’t mind, I’d rather have the bread” Um hm,
“if you could spare just a little more
I’ll take you someplace where we both could score”
Now, I’m no angel, but I ain’t no junkie,
I said,
“Not my circus, not my monkeys”
Monkey see, monkey do
Monkey see, but I’m not you
I like to think that I’m a caring man
And we’re all part of a bigger plan
But sometimes when it’s said and done
You got to grab your things and run
The general contractor had a worried frown
He said that ceiling’s got to come on down
But all his crew had a day of rest
And he was trying just to do his best
He pointed up, pointed way up high
Where even pigeons were afraid to fly
Asked me to climb up there and risk my skin
I said “Buddy, I’m just here to plug stuff in
I’d like to help you, but I ain’t that spunky
Not my circus, not my monkey”
©2020 Russell Alexander, Paul Gilmore / All Rights Reserved
There’s a routine for loudmouth hecklers:
One more drink, and that guy’s gonna lose his last brain cell. Hey bartender? I’d like to buy that man a drink. I thought it would make a charming song.
There’s a guy who’s yelling and acting wild
Looking for trouble and getting riled
One more drink, hit the spot
He’ll lose what little brain he’s got
I’m gonna buy that man a drink
I’m gonna buy that man a drink
I got money out
To buy that man a drink
Rude to the ladies and the men
Barkeep tells me he’s the boss’s friend
His brain’s so damaged from wine and gin,
One more drink gonna do him in
I’m gonna buy that man a drink
I’m gonna buy that man a drink
I got money out
To buy that man a drink
Everybody’s got a point of view
Being drunk doesn’t make it true
Call his friends at 3 am
To say he loves them, again and again
Fancy clothes expensive shoes
Screams while I’m trying to sing the blues
One more drink, scotch or rye
Kiss his last brain cell goodbye
I’m gonna buy that man a drink
I’m gonna buy that man a drink
I got money out
To buy that man a drink
©2020 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
This is based on the famous tune that Blind Willie Johnson recorded in 1927. I changed the lyrics on the verses, and the general feel of the song, but I hope I kept the original emotion.
Nobody’s fault but mine
Nobody’s fault but mine
Now if I should die and my soul gets lost,
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
My mama taught me how to pray
My mama taught me how to pray
Now if I don’t pray and my soul gets lost
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
My daddy taught me how to think
My daddy taught me how to think
Now if I don’t think and my mind gets lost
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
My brother taught me to be good
My brother taught me to be good
Now if I choose bad and my life is lost
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
I should drink water and not wine
I should drink water and not wine
Now if I drink wine and my love gets lost
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
Nobody’s fault but mine
Nobody’s fault but mine
Now if I should die and my soul gets lost,
It’s nobody’s fault but mine
©2020 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
Based on the traditional performed by Blind Willie Johnson
Another famous traditional that Blind Willie Johnson recorded. Aside from changing the melody and chords, I wondered:
What if John of Patmos was writing the Book Of Revelations, and some of the other gods stopped by? And told him their versions of the end of times?
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
John was writing, Buddha came by
Seven suns gonna fill the sky
Every creature will have to die
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
Brahma laughed and shook his head
Many cycles until I’m dead
Keep in mind the things I said
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
Odin said the worlds are nine
Ragnorok will come in time
Death will rise and I’ll face mine
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
Mahdi came to take a look
Said “you’ve written quite a book”
When I appear you’re off the hook”
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Who’s that writing? John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
Who’s that? Who’s that?
John the Revelator
Who’s that? Who’s that?
John the Revelator
Who’s that? Who’s that?
John the Revelator
Wrote the book of the seven seals
©2020 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
Based on the traditional performed by Blind Willie Johnson
Many people regard the house they grew up in as “home”. And so it remains for awhile, but after both parents pass on, the heart and soul of it is gone. The same may be true when you lose a spouse and the place that you belonged to is now an empty shell.
And this was home
The place where I became
What I am today
The place you couldn’t stay
And this was home
They say you can’t go back
The colors run to black
And now I know
There’s no place like home
Not in this world
Not anymore
There’s no place like home
No bridge left to burn
No return
Now you’re gone
There’s no place like home
And this was home
The harsh doorway light
The uncertain nights
With no dawn in sight
And this was home
I hear your refrain
The echoes remain
But now I know
There’s no place like home
Not in this world
Not anymore
There’s no place like home
No bridge left to burn
No return
Now you’re gone
There’s no place like home
There is a hope within
That we may meet again
But who can say if that will be?
There’s no place like home
Not in this world
Not anymore
There’s no place like home
No bridge left to burn
No return
Now you’re gone
There’s no place like home
©2020 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
The Bob Dylan classic, done in the Hitman Blues Band style. This song is as relevant now as it was the day it was written.
Come gather ’round people, wherever you roam
Admit that the waters around you have grown
Accept it that soon you’ll be drenched to the bone
If time to you is worth saving
You better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone
The times, they are a-changin’
Come writers and critics who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide, the chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon, for the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who that it’s namin’
For the loser now will be later to win
The times, they are a-changin’
Congressmen, senators, please heed the call
Don’t stand in the doorway, don’t block up the hall
For he that gets hurt will be he who has stalled
There’s a fire outside and it’s ragin’
Will soon shake your windows and rattle your walls
The times, they are a-changin’
Come mothers and fathers throughout the land
And don’t criticize what you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly aging
Please get out of the new one if you won’t lend your hand
The times, they are a-changin’
©1963 Robert Dylan / All Rights Reserved
People go to fortune tellers to learn the future – maybe hoping they can change it. But one thing Greek tragedies tell us – repeatedly – is that your destiny cannot be changed. That may or may not be true, but one thing is for sure:
When life comes calling, you can’t say no.
Whoa, oh,oh, oh, oh
Whoa, oh,oh, oh, oh
You can’t fight it,
You can’t fight it
When life comes calling
You can’t say no
You can’t stop it
You can’t stop it
When life takes over
You can’t say no
You can’t say no
You can’t dodge it
You can’t dodge it
When fate comes calling
You can’t say no
You can’t lose it
You can’t lose it
Fate will find you
You can’t say no
You can’t say no
You find out
As you go
You’ll get through
But you can’t say no
Whoa, oh,oh, oh, oh
Whoa, oh,oh, oh, oh
You can’t stall it
You can’t stall it
When time comes calling
You can’t say no
You can’t slow it
You can’t slow it
When time comes calling
You can’t say no
You can’t say no
You find out
As you go
You’ll get through
But you can’t say no
When the blues comes calling
When the blues comes calling
When the blues comes calling
Well, you know
Too well, you know
Yes, you know
©2020 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
This is a silly, fun song. We’ve all been there – you see an attractive person, and unless you’re a horrific jerk, you play it cool. Dinner? Maybe. Dancing? Perhaps. But first, how about just taking a walk and getting to know each other?
You are a beauty
An innovator
You might have heard I’m
An operator
A whiskey hero
A hot mess
Well I don’t drink anymore
But I don’t drink any less
Just one thing I wish that you and I could do
Here’s my hand I want to take a walk with you
Down on the Main Street
Or by the lakeside
Out by the ball field
And watch the home pride
It doesn’t matter
If we’re together
Talking ‘bout life
Or talking ‘bout the weather
That’s the thing I wish that you and I could do
Here’s my hand I want to take a walk with you
People don’t change
But they can change their minds
Leave old habits and sins behind
I’ve been low
But never down
The thought of you brings me around
I’m not implying
I’ll make advances
I’m only trying
I’ll take my chances
Let’s cut the cards
And spin the wheel
Walk down the lane
I can tell you how I feel
That’s the thing I wish that you and I could do
Here’s my hand I want to take a walk with you
©2020 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
Yes, love is grand. But sometimes one partner may not understand how much they affect the other one. It can be a positive, or a negative – or both…
You
You don’t
You don’t know, what you do to me
Chained to the blues
Till I met you
Drowning on dry land
It’s a cold and angry world
When no-one understands
I’m just a low born
Love torn
Struck by a hole in my heart
I’ve been put down
Pushed ‘round
You keep me from tearing apart
You don’t understand
Me
You don’t know, what you do to me
When you smile
My legs go weak
And all my anger fades
But when we fight
My heart might break
If my love should be betrayed
I’m just a low born
Love torn
Struck by a hole in my heart
I’ve been put down
Pushed ‘round
You keep me from tearing apart
You don’t understand
Me
You don’t know, what you do to me
©2020 Russell Alexander/All Rights Reserved
I wrote this as a jazz song in 1998, with lush strings (and a more explicit title). After doing it as a trio, I was encouraged to make a blues version for this album. I think everybody has felt like this at some point in their lives, so here’s the good news – it won’t stay that way.
I see it in their faces
The smiles when they come in
They don’t have to tell me
I know where they’ve been
It’s not a secret
In fact it’s plain to see
I can’t find the reason
Everybody’s getting some but me
The old man on the corner
The young man in the rain
The bagboy at the grocers’
Who does nothing but complain
They’ve all been seeing action
I’m lonely as can be
What is their strange attraction
Everybody’s getting some but me
Spring is full of love I hear
But it’s a mystery
Wrapped in chains and leather
Does she wait somewhere for me?
The girls I know all tell me
I’m really quite a guy
And if they weren’t married
They might give me a try
I’m feeling so abandoned
It’s almost by decree
My hand is no companion
Everybody’s getting some but me
Everybody’s getting some but me
©1998 Russell Alexander/All Rights Reserved
One day I was feeling sorry for myself and took the luxury of wallowing in self pity for about five minutes. Then a voice in my head cut in and said “Shut the f**k up, asshole. You made your choices. If you’re going to go down, go down fighting.”
And I thought, “hey, that would make a good song.” I hope you like it.
Too old
Too late
Missed my chance
Out of date
Must be foolish
Or naive
Past my prime
Better leave
I hear them say that I can’t win
But if this is the end
I’ll go down fighting
I’ll keep swinging
In the silence
I’ll be singing
I go down fighting
Success
Passed me by
Not cause I
Didn’t try
Slowing down
Feeling pain
Can’t go through it
All again
But every time I want to quit
I say if this is it
I’ll go down fighting
I’ll keep swinging
In the silence
I’ll be singing
I go down fighting
Knock me down a thousand times
I’ll give it one more try
I’ll go down fighting
Out of touch
Out of time
Say I’m out
Of my mind
I’ve been hurt
Been misled
Still the dreams
In my head
Every time I get denied
Shout my battle cry
I’ll go down fighting
No quiet exit from the scene
I’ll stand my ground and scream
I’ll go down fighting
I’ll keep swinging
In the silence
I’ll be singing
I go down fighting
©2020 Russell Alexander/All Rights Reserved
PLAYING TO THE CROWD
Released: 2017
Playing To The Crowd, performed by the Russell “Hitman” Alexander of the Hitman Blues Band, contains five original songs and six covers of tunes he loves. This ranges from Harry “The Hipster” classic song “Who Put The Benzedrine In Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine” to an updated version of “Mole In The Ground”, considered one of the precursors to bluegrass.
Hitman’s humor shines through on songs like “Aging Out”, bemoaning the ravages of getting old, and what is apparently a very wicked gentleman “Playing To The Crowd”. He’s so good, you may never leave his establishment…
Click the order button below and get your instant download copy of “Playing To The Crowd”. You’ll see why reviewers from Blues In Britain, Blues Matters, Bluebird, Cashbox, and many others gives rave reviews like “The Hitman Blues Band will make you glad that music exists!” – MusikReviews
“ A fun, solo outing by Hitman showing off his acoustic chops and off-beta! ” – BLUES TODAY
LYRICS
Harry “The Hipster” Gibson was a fellow at the Julliard Graduate School, but his actual playing style was a mix of boogie, stride, jazz, and ragtime – combined with, um, shall we say, “unorthodox” lyrics. He was a force of nature at the piano in both playing and performance. Having grown up near Harlem, he spoke the way everyone in uptown New York spoke – jive.
This song, while it gave him notoriety, also landed him on the music industry blacklist – putting his career into decline. But he kept performing, and actually switched to rock in the 1960’s, then hard rock in the 1970s.
Look online to find other great songs by Harry, as well as a biographical movie short called “Boogie In Blue”. And read the Wikipedia entry on him for more info.
Mrs. Murphy couldn’t sleep
Her nerves were slightly off the beat
Until she solved her problem
With a can of Ovaltine
She drank a cupful most every night
And oooo how she would dream
Until something rough got in the stuff
And made her neighbors scream. OW!
Who put the Benzedrine, in Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine?
Sure was a shame, don’t know who’s to blame
Cause the old lady didn’t even get his name
Where did she get that stuff?
Now she just can’t get enough
It might have been the man who wasn’t there
Now Jack, that guy’s a square
She stays up nights making all the rounds
They say she lost about 69 pounds
Now Mr. Murphy claims she’s getting awful thin
And all she says is, “Give me some skin.” Mop!
Who put the Benzedrine, in Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine?
Now she wants to swing, the Highland Fling
She says that Benzedrine’s the thing that makes her spring.
Ah, spring it now .
There’s a second verse
It’s called, “Who put the Nembutals in Mr. Murphy’s overalls?
I don’t know
She buys a can of Ovaltine, most every week or so
And she always keeps an extra can on hand
Just in case that she runs low
She never, ever been so happy, since she left old Ireland
‘Till someone prowled her pantry,sure and tampered with her can. Wham!
Who put the Benzedrine, in Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine?
Sure was a shame, don’t know who’s to blame
Cause the old lady didn’t even get his name
Where did she get that stuff
Now she just can’t get enough
It might have been the man who wasn’t there
No Jack, that guy’s a square
She never ever wants to go to sleep
She says that everything is solid all reet
Now Mr. Murphy don’t know what it’s all about
Cause she went and threw the old man out. Clout!
Who put the Benzedrine, in Mrs. Murphy’s Ovaltine?
Now she wants to swing the Highland Fling
She says that Benzedrine’s the thing that makes her spring
©1947 by Harry “The Hipster” Gibson, all rights reserved.
Getting old ain’t for sissies. All those injuires you forgot about grab you by the hand and body slam you. You take drugs to stay alive, instead of living to take drugs.
And they don’t even give you a buzz.
And you have to get healthy if you don’t want to end up with an aide helping you to go to the bathroom. Exercise, eat right, stay fit. Party time is over.
Maybe just one scotch.
Or two.
Woke up one morning, I was feeling down
Called up the doctor, he said “come around”
You’re not as young as you used to be
We haven’t seen you here since ‘93
When I got there they handed me a stack
“Fill out these papers and then bring them back
There’s lots of things about you we don’t know
Just write it in and then away we go”
They checked my pulse and it was 109
They check me back there where the sun don’t shine
They checked my liver and they checked my tongue
They told me “Mister, we’ve just begun”
Don’t bother me, I don’t have the time
This aging out is weighing on my mind
Don’t bother me, am I doing fine
This aging out is getting too unkind
My back is aching, I can’t see my toes
My stomach’s growing like my ears and nose
My hair is sprouting where it shouldn’t be
My knees feel like someone is stabbing me
Fell off a bike when I was 24
I said “I’m fine” and then I rode some more
My body hid it for a long long time
Now it’s reminding me I wasn’t fine
I’m taking Ambien and Synthroid too
A bunch of Klonipin to see me through
Lasix and Lipitor, I don’t know why
None of this garbage even gets me high
Don’t bother me, I don’t have the time
This aging out is weighing on my mind…
They’re saying that I have to cut out meats
Stop drinking coffee and don’t touch the sweets
A glass of wine is cool, but only one
Be sure to stop if it starts getting fun
If I should do cocaine my heart will fry
Don’t drink a scotch unless I want to die
Count up my calories and hit the gym
It would be easier to pack it in
I used to party out from bar to bar
Now I get sleepy from a PBR
Look in the mirror at the man I see
Who is that geezer looking back at me?
Don’t bother me, I don’t have the time
This aging out is weighing on my mind…
Hey you kids, get off my lawn
They don’t write good songs anymore
These kids don’t know nothin’
©2017 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
If you’re lucky, you find someone like this in your life.
I’ve been awake too many nights
Waiting for sleep to overtake me
Carried my load down that long winding road
The one that I swore wouldn’t break me
Time is going faster
Days slipping by
She’s here, and still I don’t know why
She my Angel in the Shadows
My hero on the run
Keeps me holding on
When all the hope is gone
I got caught up in the riptide
I was lost out at sea
She’s the Angel in the Shadows for me
I spend my days with a smile on my face
Oh, I keep my friends amused
But late at night, all the memories crowd back in
Of people, using and misused
And yes, I’ve been forsaken
And yes, I’ve been alone
And looking for a light to guide me home
She my Angel in the Shadows
My hero on the run
Keeps me holding on
When all the hope is gone
I got caught up in the riptide
I was lost out at sea
She’s the Angel in the Shadows for me
And if confusion follows me
And debt and worry keep me company
When nobody knows the pain inside of me
She knows
And when I think about it
The way things might have been
Mistakes made, again and again and again
She my Angel in the Shadows
My hero on the run
Keeps me holding on
When all the hope is gone
I got caught up in the riptide
I was lost out at sea
She’s the Angel in the Shadows for me
©2003 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
This classic song by Blind Blake has been covered by hundreds of artists. His playing style has inspired artists from Jorma Kaukonen (Jefferson Airplane, Hot Tuna) to Ry Cooder to Leon Redbone.
Take a bit of time and look him up, and listen to some of his recordings. He only recorded from 1926 to 1932, and in that time he recorded 80 tunes. Those recordings had an enormous effect on future generations of guitarists.
There’s a great big mystery
And it sure is worrying me
This diddy wah diddy, diddy wah diddy
I wish somebody’d tell me what
Diddy wah diddy means
A little girl ’bout four feet four
She said Hitman give me some more of your
Dddy wah diddy, diddy wah diddy
I wish somebody’d tell me what
Diddy wah diddy means
I went out and walked around
Somebody yelled “look who’s in town”
Mr. Diddy wah diddy, diddy wah diddy
I wish somebody’d tell me what
Diddy wah diddy means
Got on a bus, put my hat on the seat
Lady sat on it, said “you sure are sweet”
Mr. Diddy wah diddy, diddy wah diddy
I wish somebody’d tell me what
Diddy wah diddy means
I said “honey, I’ll soon be gone
Just give me that thing you’re sitting on”
My diddy wah diddy, my diddy wah diddy
I wish somebody’d tell me what
Diddy wah diddy means
©1929 by Blind Blake, public domain.
Harry “The Hipster” Gibson was a fellow at the Julliard Graduate School, but his actual playing style was a mix of boogie, stride, jazz, and ragtime – combined with, um, shall we say, “unorthodox” lyrics. He was a force of nature at the piano in both playing and performance. Having grown up near Harlem, he spoke the way everyone in uptown New York spoke – jive.
Stop That Dancing Up There is like nothing else written at it’s time. Funny, quirky, and clearly insane, yet not “cutsie” like some other novelty tunes of the period, it shows how far ahead of his time Gibson was.
Look online to find other great songs by Harry, as well as a biographical movie short called “Boogie In Blue”. And read the Wikipedia entry on him for more info.
I was standing on the corner, in the middle of the block
I saw a lady standing there, sitting on a rock
As she began to talk, I ran as fast as I could walk,
I heard her shout “Look out! Stop that dancing up there!”
I was strolling through the park in the middle of the night
The night was very dark cause the sun was shining bright
I spied a lark and the lark began to bark,
“Stop that dancing up there!”
Some folks say that I’m insane
And just as goofy as can be
But they’re all wrong, I’m all right
Everybody’s crazy but me
I’m living in the cellar, on the 7th floor
I can’t go to sleep ’till I hear myself snore
Now the people downstairs say I’m an awful square
When I shout, “Hey, stop that dancing up there!”
©1943 by Harry “The Hipster” Gibson, all rights reserved.
You can see a video I made for this song (with full instrumentation) at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6_TLaa-AVc
During one of the tours in the UK, I stopped and spent time looking at a war memorial. I noticed that, in WW1, there would be groups of people with the same surname – indicating that an entire male generation of a family had been wiped out.
Then, under the WW2 section, there would be some of the same surnames. I thought “what kind of courage did it take to go to war against the same enemy, in the same countries, that had decimated your family?”
My mom grew up in wartime London. I’ve never asked her about who she lost, and the few times I asked what it was like she would say things like “we would go down to the shelters, and the next day the houses that had been there were gone”.
But I wrote this to honor those brave men and women whose names are now etched in stone. One day, when you pass by a memorial, take a few moments and read them.
Every one.
On a little street, in this little town
There’s a wooden bench, where the men sit down
You can see the names there,
Etched in stone
Of the men who died with their helmets on
There’s my father’s name, he died much too young
But here I go, I’m my father’s son
And if I don’t return to you
Make sure my name is up there too
Well they said that his would end all wars
So he left my mom, for a noble cause
And he wrote and told her everything
And she keeps his letters tied up with string
And now I’m told to serve with pride
In the killing fields where my father died
And if I don’t come back to you
Make sure my name is up there too
Do you ever stop, do you ever see?
Will you walk on by, or remember me
Will you look up close, and read every one
Do you see the fathers and the sons?
Do you see the fathers and the sons?
(play intro chords)
Well they cut him down with a dozen men
In the filthy trench that they’d won again
And the men who killed him died there too
When the next assault came charging through
Will I fight the sons of the very men
Who slew my father way back then
And what will happen if I do
Will I find my way back home to you?
Do you ever stop, do you ever see?
Will you walk on by, or remember me
Will you look up close, and read every one
Do you see the fathers and the sons?
Do you see the fathers and the sons?
And if I don’t come back to you
Make sure my name is up there too
©2015 by Russell Alexander, All Rights Reserved.
I heard this cut, written by the great hillbilly guitarist Louie Innis, performed by Wynonie Harris. It was on a fantastic compilation called “The History Of Rhythm And Blues, 1942 – 52” put out by Rhythm and Blues Records.
If you can find this collection, BUY IT. Not only does it have tons of incredible music, the book that accompanies it is a Masters course in R&B history, with lots of facts you won’t believe. It makes listening to the songs that much better, when you realize what that song meant in the history of music. Plus, they’re a cool company. My copy of the book fell apart, and they sent me a PDF version when I asked!
As for Wynonie Harris, well, here’s a quote from the book:
In an interview conducted after Harris died aged just fifty-four,
record producer Ralph Bass said of him, ‘Whatever age he was when he
died, just double it. That’s the way that motherf***er lived.’
Last month I went on a date
With good old Lucy Brown
We hit all the hot spots, we really tore it down
She’s five foot two with eyes of blue
Pretty as a queen
I didn’t know how pop was a city cop
And she’s just seventeen
Good morning judge, why do you look so mean sir?
No Mr. Judge, what can the problem be?
You don’t think I was part this affair?
It wasn’t me, it couldn’t be, I wasn’t even there
Last week I did my income tax
To save a little dough
I cheated just a little bit, I knew they’d never know
My wife said “you be careful
Don’t you mess around”
But I just laughed, they’re understaffed
It never will be found
Good morning judge, why do you look so mean sir?
No Mr. Judge, what can the problem be?
You don’t think I was part this affair?
It wasn’t me, it couldn’t be, I wasn’t even there
My wife and I, we separated
Just the other day
The last thing that she said to me was
“Buster, you will pay
You better send that check to me
Each week without fail”
I said, “Before I spend a dime
I’d rather be in jail!”
Good morning judge, why do you look so mean sir?
No Mr. Judge, what can the problem be?
You don’t think I was part this affair?
It wasn’t me, it couldn’t be, I wasn’t even there
©1950 by Jouis Innis, All Rights Reserved.
There’s an old joke among musicians that hell would be condemned to play “If” in a cocktail lounge – forever. No breaks or holidays, and you’d have to play that one song, over and over.
But what if the Devil was the musician, and was actively looking for new customers? What if it looked just like any corner bar?
How about stopping by for a drink? Don’t worry, you can leave any time you like…
Have some wine
Have some gin
Always open, walk right in
I’ll be here just playing to the crowd
Fish is fresh
Steaks are thick
Hardly no one comes out sick
I’ll be here just playing to the crowd
There might be a fight or two
But take that stuff outside
We’ve had lots of trouble here
But no one’s ever died (well they can’t)
Pretty girls and
Handsome men
Come inside you’ll fit right in
I’ll be here just playing to the crowd
Prices posted
Plain to see
Love and heartache come for free
I’ll be here just playing to the crowd
I can play the songs you loved
When you were young and free
Every dream you ever had
Still can come to be
Saints and sinners
Devils too
Angels dance the hoochie koo
I’ll be here just playing to the crowd
Stay an hour
Or through the eve
You don’t ever have to leave
I’ll be here just playing to the crowd
©2017 Russell Alexander / All Rights Reserved
Mole In The Ground is a traditional American folk song. One of the early famous recordings was by Bascom Lamar Lunsford in 1928. A friend of mine, who plays bluegrass professionally, told me it is considered one of the first two bluegrass tunes ever written, although I can’t find any verification for this. Bluegrass, as a genre, wasn’t referred to as such until the late 1950’s.
At any rate, I heard the song performed by Serious Sam Barrett and David Broad on their “Live At Cafe Lento” release (check it out, it’s great!) While I love the way they do it, I, *ahem*, “updated” it a bit.
I wish I was a mole in the ground.
Yes, I wish I was a mole in the ground.
If I was a mole in the ground, I’d sap that building down,
And I wish I was a mole in the ground.
Oh, Jenny wants a five dollar shawl.
Yes, Kimpy wants a five dollar shawl.
When I come o’er the hill with a fifty dollar bill,
‘Tis, “Baby, where you been so long?”
I been in the jail so long.
Yes, I been in the jail so long.
I been in the jail with to throw my bail.
That’s where I been so long
Jenny, let your hair roll down.
Jenny let your hair roll down.
Let your hair roll down every time I come around.
Jenny, let your hair roll down.
I don’t like a railroad man.
No, I don’t like a railroad man.
Well that railroad man, he’ll kill you when he can,
And drink up your blood like wine.
I wish I was a mole in the ground.
Yes, I wish I was a mole in the ground.
If I was a mole in the ground, I’d tear that building down,
I wish I was a mole in the ground.
© Traditional, public domain.
This is based on the traditional Irish folk song, “Seven Drunken Nights”, itself based on the Scottish folk song “Our Goodman” – from the 1770s! Seems this kind of thing has been going on for a loooonnnnnnggggg time. Since then, it’s been redone as “Four Nights Drunk”, “The Drunk Cowboy” (which is Russian!), and Delbert McClinton did his own version. There are LOTS of others, too.
This is the way I heard it, but I made various changes in items and days of the week, as well as the melody. Thanks to my lovely wife, Joanne, for doing the lady’s part – where she has to come up with an excuse each night.
I got home last Monday
I was drunk as a man could be
There was a car sitting in my driveway
Where my car is suppose to be
I said wake up, baby
Please explain all this all to me
Why’s there a car sitting in my driveway
Where my car is suppose to be
She said: honey, you must be crazy
If you’d open up your eyes you’d see
There ain’t nothing but a wagon
That my grandmother gave to me
I’ve been all over the world
I’ve been to the Gulf Of Mexico
I ain’t never seen a wagon
With a fenders and headlights before.
I got home last Tuesday
I was drunk as a man could be
There was a coat hanging in my closet
Where my coat was supposed to be
I said wake up, baby
Please explain all this all to me
Why is there a coat hanging in my closet
Where my coat is supposed to be
She said: honey, you must be crazy
If you’d open up your eyes you’d see
There ain’t nothing but a blanket
That my sister gave to me
I’ve been all over the world
I’ve been to the Gulf Of Mexico
I ain’t never seen a blanket
With a collar and buttons before
I got home last Wednesday
I was drunk as a man could be
There was a hat sitting on my dresser
Where my hat is supposed to be
I said wake up, baby
Please explain all this all to me
Why is there a hat sitting on my dresser
Where my hat is supposed to be
She said: honey, you must be crazy
If you’d open up your eyes you’d see
That ain’t nothing but a wash bag
That my brother gave to me
I’ve been all over the world
I’ve been to the Gulf Of Mexico
I ain’t never seen a wash bag
With a brim and a feather before.
I got home last Thursday
I was drunk as a man could be
There were boots underneath my bed
Where my boots are supposed to be
I said wake up, baby
Please explain all this all to me
Why are there boots underneath my bed
Where my boots are supposed to be?”
She said: honey, you must be crazy
If you’d open up your eyes you’d see
That ain’t nothing but a breadbox
That my father gave to me
I’ve been all over the world
I’ve been to the Gulf Of Mexico
I ain’t never seen a breadbox
With heels and laces before.
I got home last Friday
I was drunk as a man could be
There was a head lying on my pillow
Where my head is supposed to be
I said wake up, baby
Please explain all this all to me
Why are there a head lying on my pillow
Where my head is supposed to be?”
She said: honey, you must be crazy
If you’d open up your eyes you’d see
That ain’t nothing but a pumpkin
That my mother gave to me
Well, I’ve been all over the world
I’ve been to the Gulf Of Mexico
I ain’t never seen a pumpkin
With eyebrows and a beard before.
Yes, I’ve been all over the world
I’ve been to the Gulf Of Mexico
Now you can take your pumpkin, and your breadbox, and your wash bag
And head right out the door!
©2017 Russell Alexander/All Rights Reserved
I wanted to end off with a little tune – and here it is. Don’t read too much into it – it’s not a death song, or an epilog. It’s just – a little tune before I go.
I’ve been thinking
What to do
When time is running low
Just a little
Tune before I go
And I’ve been wondering
What to say
Something you don’t know
Just a little
Tune before I go
Kings and queens
And silver spoons
It all comes down to this
When the hourglass runs out
The scythe will never miss
I’ve been thinking
‘Bout the road
It may be high or low
Just a little
Tune before I go
Trying hard
To understand
The meaning of it all
What will be
The final act
Before the curtain call?
I’ve been thinking
What to do
When time is running low
Just a little
Tune before I go
©2017 Russell Alexander/All Rights Reserved
