Preying on Me - Original Song #37

I was living in the Mile End
Lovely place to find a friend
Course you know no one there
Is just like me

English, French, Greeks
Indigenous and artists
Lots of folks I call the blister-hearted
And that includes the Hasids

They’re always doing lots of prayin'
They gotta do a lot of prayin'
Gotta do a lot of prayin'
For sinners like me

And meanwhile on the internet
Trolls are spinning
Dark dark webs
They’re telling all these scary tales
Once upon a lie

They spread hate to create bigots
Then they churn and circulate all that made-up shit
Like that ain’t what toilets are for

The trolls are doing lots of preyin'
Yeah they’re doing lots of preyin'
They’re out there doing lots of preyin'
On the young and the weak

Now morons out there in the war rooms
Making plans to cloud us in mushrooms
They can't believe they can't play with
All their nuclear toys

They're doing lots of playing
Armageddon games they're playing
And Christ, it never ever stops preying
Preying on me

Now that brings me back to those Hasids
They aren't too caught up in our consumerist greed
And they may not be your creed
But I think they seem to know what we need

We need to do a lotta prayin'
There ain't nothing left but prayin'
I'm really down with all the prayin'


- 30 -

Original Song #34: Prime Meridian

Where're you gonna' start?
When're you gonna' get up?
How did you get home last night?
Well you can't remember names
You can't remember faces
You can't remember promises you broke

You don't know what you're doing
You don't know where to begin time
Time to find your own line
Your Greenwich

Well it's time to sit up straight
Time to calibrate yourself
To the world around you
You're groping for a line
Someplace to begin
We all have our own Prime Meridian

You washed ashore at Brighton
You got as far as Lewisham
You can't find your own line
Your Greenwich

You're dreaming if you think that'll do
You can't take responsibility

You're sinking without a trace
You've falling out of place
You're losing all your graces

You don't know what you're doing
You don't know where to begin time
Time to find your own line
Your Greenwich

You're dreaming if you think that'll do
You can't take responsibility
And I'm talking to me
You're running out of time
You've got to chart that line
You've got to compromise sometimes
And find your Greenwich Line

Original Song #33: Keep

Things aren't always as they seem
Lives ripped apart tend to leave
Jagged edges
Better tread carefully
She's not quite the woman
You knew back when
Your naivety made you creative
Don't forget how

I was helpless when I fell out from under your wing
Used to tell you how you seemed to be an angel to me
Now you're thinking what you were thinking was the wrong thing and you know
It's time to think about what you should give
And what you should keep

Life's not meant to be a scream
Lucky if you get to dream
Enjoy it!
I know people who believe
Screwing others keeps the keel even
Looking out for themselves is the only thing
Don't forget how

I was helpless when I fell out from under your wing
Used to tell you how you seemed to be an angel to me
Now you're thinking what you were thinking was the wrong thing and you know
It's time to think about what you should give
And what you should keep

Keep

Original Song #32: Papa Got Hisself a Job

Papa Got Hisself a Job

Come around kids, listen up good
(Papa’s got hisself a job)
I’ll take you to the movies, Christ we’ll go to the moon
(Papa’s got hisself a job)
So scuff them shoes, g’head and lose that toy
(Papa’s got hisself a job)
Don’t matter a whit what you done broke
‘Cause now papa’s got hisself a job

Papa’s got hisself a job, whoa
Papa’s got hisself a job
Sit up straight, and stiffen your jaw
Your papa’s got hisself a job

I know we ain’t lived near as sweet as your friends
(Papa’s been “between jobs”)
I know you’ve been dressed in them duds second-hand
(Papa was between jobs)
But I’m gonna work hard, I’ll work for the man
(Papa’s got to keep this job)
I’ll open an account for your educatin’
Sure hope I don’t get laid-off

Papa’s got hisself a job, whoa
Papa’s got hisself a job
Sit up straight, and stiffen your jaw
Your papa’s got hisself a job

Kids like you don’t fall from the sky
Kids like you fill your daddy with pride
You’ve gone without but you’ve smiled throughout
You’ll be proud of Daddy too, have no doubt

Remember that day I brought you to my office, son?
(Papa’s old job)
I showed you the view in the morning sun
(Papa had a real sweet job)
When you asked to go back, my face just dropped
(Papa’d lost his sweet, sweet job)
Well now grab your coat, ‘cause I’ll tell you what
Your Papa’s got a new job

Papa’s got hisself a job, whoa
Papa’s got a brand new job
Sit up straight, and stiffen your jaw
Your papa’s got hisself a job

- 30 -

Original Song #31: Elizabeth

Elizabeth

listen to the live Randboro demo

Her daddy always told her
If she was good, she'd do no wrong
Now somebody's sold her
On some cheap line from some cheap song

She ain't nobody's fool, she don't like the term "girl"
Everybody's over-protective in her world
She's well aware of what's bad for her, thank you very much
And she's not staying home tonight

She says she's got strong shoulders
But they're only so broad
She's standing on her own two feet
But the ground below them is soft

Trained to think on her own, but still told what to do
Callously stifled following other people's rules
Every double-standard is an inexcusable blight
And she's not coming home tonight

She slipped through the door next morning
A little too quickly to not let on
She's been trying to find the answers all day
Only to find they don't always come

Her name is Elizabeth, she don't like the term "girl"
Everybody's over-protective in her world
She's well aware of what's bad for her, now she's had a taste herself
And she's decided on her own,
"You guys go on, I'm staying home
"I'll catch up later"

- 30 -

Original Song #29: No Healing

Messing around
Digging up tarpits
And we'll burn it all away

Mining that gold
Exporting asbestos
Trade the future for today

We don't know why
But I've got a feeling
It could be a long time
Before we start the healing

Frack that shale
Strip that mountain
Extract it all away

Drain all brains
With the freshwater
Rape the future for today's gain

And I've got a feeling
It'll be a lifetime
Before we staunch the bleeding

Hiding your crimes
Building more prisons
Disregard the scientists

Mute all truths
Reason is treason
Ruled by ideology

And I know I've
Got a sickening feeling
Could be a long time
And there won't be no healing

Listen to the rough solo demo

- 30 -

Original Song #28: Phineas Gage

My name is Phineas Gage
New Hampshire boy, born and raised
I drive a stagecoach here in Chile
You might say I've come a long way

Drive the coach steady, drive the coach slow
From Valparaiso to Santiago
Santiago to Valparaiso
Drive the coach steady, take it slow

The year was 1848
I was blasting Vermont granite
For the Burlington-Rutland railway
When the charge went off in my hand

It blew this iron bar straight through my head
Doctors all said I would soon be dead
But I wanted to get up from my sick bed
...And that's what I did

Drive the coach steady, drive the coach slow
Valparaiso to Santiago
Santiago to Valparaiso
Drive the coach steady, take it slow

In time I relearned everything
And I got all my memories
A two-inch hole on the top of my head
Now I keep that iron bar firm in my hand

People say I'm a changed man
Cursing, cheating and fighting
But what the docs couldn't understand
Was I was just still recovering

Hacks with axes grind away
Swinging their pet theories
But I was still recovering my empathy

You quacks all misrepresent me
But you don't know me
I'm still recovering my empathy
My name is Phineas Gage

Drive the coach steady, drive the coach slow
Valparaiso to Santiago
Santiago to Valparaiso
Drive the coach steady, take it slow

Listen to a rough solo recording

- 30 -

Original Song #26: Sitting Like Hippies

Sitting Like Hippies

Meet me down at Dusty's for seven o'clock
Open call auditions snaring hopeful hearts
Get in line, get a number, outside we wait
Finding four-leaf clovers like it was fate

Performance junkies congregate
When I open my guitar case

CHORUS:
Sitting like hippies in the park
Playing Brown Eyed Girl on my guitar
Sitting with your eyes closed, side to side you sway
I could live like this every day

Steve made the trip in from Halifax
Sang for five seconds and no call back
Rebecca's going to do Amazing Grace
Me? I'm going to fall flat on my face

Wave hello to the Pulstar van, get my
Fifteen minutes any way I can

Sitting like hippies in the park
Playing Brown Eyed Girl on my guitar
Sitting with your eyes closed, side to side you sway
I could live like this every day

Yeah, we're gonna eat what hippies eat
Yeah, we're gonna blink like hippies blink
Yeah, we're gonna stink like hippies stink

Doesn't matter; we've got April sun
Four-leaf clovers for everyone!

Sitting like hippies in the park
Strumming Brown Eyed Girl on my guitar
Sitting with your eyes closed, side to side you sway
I could live like this every day

- 30 -

Original Song #25: You're Canadian

Apologies for the extremely light blogging of late. I was on one long business trip and just got home after 12 days in central Ohio. Oh my. Is it ever good to be back. I won't go into the details here, but it brings to mind this song I wrote a year ago. It's a light-hearted response to that all-American semi-rhetorical question - the one that so many of my fine United States friends have a very hard time getting their heads around: "Why wouldn't any foreigner want to be American?" If you still don't get it after reading below, that's okay. You probably have to be Canadian (perhaps even Quebec-Canadian) to completely understand. Just know that I'm happy being a Canuck, and particularly, a Montrealer, and it's nothing against your fine (but troubled) nation.

BTW: GOHABSGO!

You're Canadian

Big deal
You’re Canadian
Travel anywhere in the world at a whim
They treat you extra nice
You’re not American
They take it on first blush that you’re polite

CHORUS:
But since you asked me
What matters most, I’ll tell ya:
I wanna be
Playing pickup hockey on an outdoor rink in St-Henri
I wanna be
Sipping IPAs on the terrasse at a Brasserie
I wanna be somewhere I’m free

Big deal
You’re multicultural
Too many syllables and what does it get you?
So what if Sikhs
Can wear their turbans
While they’re working on the job in the RCMP?

CHORUS

So I’m glad
I’m Canadian
Even though the winters are truly atrocious
Cause just surviving that
Taught us tolerance
You can't make it alone; pioneering ain't an option

But since you asked me
What matters most, I’m thinking:
I wanna be
Playing pickup hockey on a frozen pond in Randboro, yeah
I wanna be
Swimming in a clear lake at a Gatineau cottage, yeah
I wanna be
Watching the parade in Montreal on St Paddy’s Day
Don’t wanna be
Stuck under the heel of the zealots in the GOP
I wanna be somewhere I’m free

- 30 -

Original Song #24: Brendan's Song

Brendan Nolan used to play the Old Dublin;
Seemed like every week
We were the drunks in the back
And we'd always give him cheek
We only knew the Pogues' sound
So we'd call out for Dirty Old Town
He’d come back with a Sally MacLennane to put Shane to shame
(And us in our place, man)

St. Patty’s Day is coming, I’ve booked the time off
Would you meet me at the Dublin, we’ll fight the crowds off
There’s a pint or twenty waiting and Spring’s not far off
I’ll bet my last shamrock it’s Brendan who’s on
Brendan, you're on

Now he’s gone playing around the world
And only back once in a long song’s while
And I’ll only make my way down to the Dub
If I see his name in the listings
Then I see we’re both a little older now
But none the tired -- some the wiser
Now it’s the old drunks who are giving him hell
And I sing and I smile and I’m under his spell

St. Patty’s Day is coming, I’ve booked the time off
Would you meet me at the Dublin, we’ll fight the crowds off
There’s a pint or twenty waiting and Spring’s not far off
I’ll bet my last shamrock it’s Brendan who’s on
Brendan, you're on

Good old Brendan used to play the Old Dublin
Every week

- 30 -

Original Song #23: "Sentimental Institution"

Hey, Mrs. Stinson,
Can Tim come out to play today?
She said she was Pleased to Meet Me
“But Don’t Tell a Soul, just Let It Be”

It’s a shame about Bob
Feels like he taught me and Dando half our chops
Paul and Chris can still turn a phrase
And I’m praying Tommy’s laying off the lampshades

Sorry Ma, Forgot to Take out the Trash
I know you thinks it Stinks
But I’m All Shook Down
Still recovering from the Hootenanny

Even ten years later it still sounds fresh
At least I haven’t gotten sick of it yet
It’s a dedication from a fan
And I’m praying they’ll be laying out the welcome ‘Mats

At the sentimental institution
The sentimental institution
The sentimental institution to you
From me to you and A Boy Named Goo

- 30 -

Pics from the Randboro set last Friday at Barfly

Randboro (left to right): Jean-Marc Barsalou, Jose-Luis Duque, me

We had a wicked fun time playing in front of the Barfly faithful last Friday for John's & Kim's birthdays. Randboro blasted through a set of nine originals that was only marred by a broken string on Spitsbergen (and, ahem, more than a couple of flubbed lines). But no matter - the crowd was there for a good time, and so were we. L'il Buck played like their usual fabulous selves.

One thing I learned back in my days as an editor at the Concordian was to never forget to give photo credit. Especially when they're as arty as this one on the right. I love the effect from the cigarette smoke. You won't get to see that again after the new total indoor public ban comes into effect May 31st. So a big thanks to Ms. Jen Peterson for these. (Her comments on the show: "Paul Westerberg would have loved it, as did I.") Glad you liked it, Jen, and a big thanks to all who came out. Hopefully we'll get our lazy butts out for another gig this Spring.

Cheers

Randboro and L'il Buck - b-day party for Johnny & Kim

Kim works at Barfly. John Campbell of (Not So) Idle Thoughts is a Barfly barfly. Their birthdays come a day apart. Their birthday party comes Friday, March 3rd at Barfly (where else?) The venerable all-pro rootsy indie rockers L'il Buck will put together three (count 'em) blow-out sets. And Randboro (my band) is pleased as punch to be playing an opening set in Kim & John's honour.

So if you're in the vicinity of 4062 rue St-Laurent, corner Duluth, come join the party. We've got a bouncy new song to play for y'all. And Jean-Marc might even sing along. You should too! We'll be on around 9:30-ish. Cover charge, schmover charge.

Setlist:

Stickman
Sentimental Institution (tribute to the Replacements)
Emerson & Fortier
Elizabeth
Sandra
Skeleton Key
Spitsbergen
Bail You Out
Untermenschen

- 30 -

Original Song #22: "Untermenschen"

And it all started somewhere in the bowels of the White House
Back in May two-thousand-and-one
Dick Cheney and the boys in the energy industry
Carving up a map of Iraq
Scheming war and oil and Halliburton contracts

And the voices they came shouting out
From the underground
As Billmon said:

Untermenschen, Untermenschen!
If you read between the lies
They’re always fighting for the big guy
Untermenschen, Untermenschen!
You can see it in their eyes
Either shut up or take their side

Then it got heavy on eleven September
We don’t know if they let it happen or not
But they used it as a scapegoat
Just as the neo-cons had always hoped
For another Pearl Harbor
Enter Patriot Act and the War President

And the voices they came shouting out
From the underground
As Juan Cole said:

Untermenschen, Untermenschen!
You can see it in their eyes
Either shut up or take their side
Untermenschen, Untermenschen!
If you read between the lies
A new group of brownshirts is on the rise

And it all unraveled rather spectacularly
At Abu Ghraib and Fallujah
And Ramadi and New Orleans
All the anger they unbridled
All the bloodshed they provided
All the pandering to xenophobes
To the Fundies and the faithful
Who declared to the whole world
They’re just rag-heads
They’re not people
They’re our enemies
They’ve got no souls

And the voices they keep shouting out
From the underground
And they nail it

Untermenschen, Untermenschen!
Better not speak your mind
They’re listening in on your phone line
Untermenschen, Untermenschen!
Yeah you heard him right
The president said our enemies have no souls
The president said they ain’t got no soul
The president thinks you ain’t got no soul

- 30 -

Original Song #21: "Emerson & Fortier (Democracy on the Shelf)"

They voted for
The man who said
He'd be Harper's
Worst nightmare
And when he won
I thought we had
One more MP
Who'd keep those guys in check

So Gilles, give 'em hell
Don't you let them throw our liberties out as well
Give 'em hell
Stand up in the House and scream and shout and yell
Give 'em hell
Let the boys wed the boys and the girls the girls as well
Give 'em hell
Don't you let them put our freedoms on the shelf

Some volunteered
And gave their time
Worked the phones
At Christmastime
They took their ballots
They marked an X
Next to the one
Who was not a Conservative

So Jack, give 'em hell
Shine a light on their hypocrisy and quell
Any bill
Meant to eat away what Tommy Douglas built
Give 'em hell
The far-right Christian Fundies have to be repelled
Give 'em hell
They've already put our democracy on the shelf

I take my lessons
From those who earned my respect
"If you don't vote, don't bitch"
As Steve Earle said
I did my bit
At the polytheque
Now they've betrayed all that
To sit in Cabinet
With the perks and the limos and all the rest

So Bill, give 'em hell
Don't you let them take our rights away pell-mell
Give 'em hell
Stand up in the House and scream and shout and yell
Give 'em hell
Or they'll ban abortions, starve the arts and sell
Us all out
They've already put our democracy on the shelf

- 30 -

Stoke the Fire (mp3)

For some time now, people have been expressing an interest in actually hearing some of these songs I keep posting. Now seeing as I have only very rarely had a chance to record anything properly, these are in rather short supply.

Furthermore, I have not been able to figure out how to post an mp3 to this site (anyone out there who knows the secret, I'd be much obliged if you dropped me a line).

But finally, my bandmate Jean-Marc Barsalou has been able to upload an mp3 of Stoke the Fire, which can be heard by clicking here. It's a short four-on-the-floor rocker of a demo recorded in 2004 with Jean-Marc on bass and Chuck Duque on drums in an outfit we liked to call Big Red Canoe at the time.

More to come, and thanks for asking.

- 30 -

Update: Okay, that link doesn't seem to be working anymore. Sorry about that. So I decided to take Zeke's advice and upload the audio file to archive.org. So it's now available here instead. Please comment if you have any troubles.

Original Song #20

The sweet & cheesey one for Valentine's Day

Apple of My Pie

You're the apple of my pie
I'm the sugar and the spice
We could make a flakey crust
Bake it up real nice

You're my star, you're in my stripe
I'd like to fly you high
See you flutter in my breeze
Be a part of my
Star-spangled banner day
Would that be okay?

And I'd like to make you my...
I'd like you to be my
American girlfriend

And I'm standing here at home plate
Swinging wildly
I'm gonna lace one to deep left field
Cause I know that's where you play
That's my position too

And I'm making contact
Why don't you make a good catch

You're the apple of my pie
I'm the sugar and the spice
We could make a flakey crust
Bake it up real nice

- 30 -

Original Song #19

Valentine's Day songs - today I'm posting one about the darker side. The music for this one was inspired by Husker Du's Flip Your Wig. Tomorrow, I promise a cheesy romantic ditty for those who need an antidote. Cheers

February Rain

Valentine's Day in this frigid town
Some realizations shake me down
I'm in tune with Mother Nature
I'm out of synch with your good nature

February rain
And my contrary timing again
Why don't I feel the same
I've weened myself off you too well

Cheesey commercial romance glyphs
And bubblegum piano riffs
Everyone else coos and cries
I sit and sneer as the world goes by

February rain...

And the web I spun so long ago
Has finally got you in its tow
I want to meet you in the middle
But I can't remember what lines are safe to walk on

Now you breeze in like the wind
Saying I'm the keenest thing again
This shower of affection's teasing
February rain is freezing

February rain

- 30 -

Original Song #18

The Beach

Gonna lie down in the pine needles
Ocean breeze in the starry sky
Gonna get bit by mosquitos
Gonna get sick eating fried clams

And I'm gonna ride the waves
Body-surfing all day long
Moon power pulling me
Let the salt water meet my tongue

I'm going down to the beach
I'm going down to the Birch Knoll
Got friends calling out to me
Called trees and shells and stones

Go running down the beach
And get sand in my shoes
Sit around and do nothing
Like a big shit-eating fool

And I'll go in the early morning
See the sand-pipers skitter and peck
Go back in the afternoon
Like a big shit-eating fool again

I'm going down to the beach
I'm going down to the Birch Knoll
Got friends calling out to me
Called trees and shells and stones
I'm going down to the beach
I'm going down to the east coast
Ocean's calling out to me
It's gonna cleanse my soul

I was born in Sherbrooke
Now I live in Montreal
River valleys I like fine
But give me the ocean
I wanna be at the ocean
Just let me live by the ocean all year long

I'm going down to the beach
I'm going down to the Birch Knoll
I'm going down to the beach
I'm going down to the east coast

Oh yeah
All right
I'll drive
All night

- 30 -

Original Song #17

Bail You Out

You say you'll hate yourself in the morning
But you'll love yourself by afternoon
Wondering what they put in the water
That keeps the girls from going swoon

Didn't I bail you out
Bail you out another time
Bailed you out again I said
I bailed you out another time

And you're wondering why
You're not the toast of the town
But here you're only toast
You're all stance with no sub-style
Hog the plate and starve the host

Didn't I bail you out
Bail you out another time
Bailed you out again I said
I bailed you out another time

Sticks and stones may break my bones
Words will never hurt me

- 30 -