Saturday, November 19, 2005

She'd Be Mine

She'd Be Mine

When I was a kid, southern California was still a place of separate towns and cities, with open space in between, usually farmland, orchards, wetlands, or just plain "unimproved" land, interspersed with patches of oil fields and a few military bases.

My part of it, Orange County, consisted mostly of flat coastal plain, and, at its eastern edge, rolling foothills. Along the the coast were expanses of dairy fields, interspersed with soy bean fields, and clusters of oil wells.

Toward the eastern foothills, where I grew up, it was mostly orange orchards. At one time there were hundreds of thousands of trees, typicallly in methodically neat rows. The orchards were interlaced with long, straight, narrow roads, just big enough for two farm trucks to pass each other.

And almost all of the roads were lined on both sides with single rows of eucalyptus trees, planted in the late 19th and early 20th centuries as wind breaks against the hot, fierce Santa Ana winds.

[As I write this, we've just been whipped by several days of Santa Anas and the skies are a smoky salmon color in the fading sun, the smoke of distant brushfires biting at the sinuses and throat.]

Most of the eucalyptus trees are gone now, but you still see rows of them scattered around, particularly as you near the foothills. You'll often see them at the edges of the parking lot of older shopping centers.

It was just such a row of eucalyptus I had in mind for the opening images of this song.

Normally my songs come to me as theoretically clever or poignant or just weird phrases but this song really came an image: the protagonist seeing his long-ago girlfriend in her role as a young mother with her children (and the convenient symbol of a certain kind of domesticity, the iconic white Volvo)... parallel universes both inhabiting the same shopping center, with its row of eucalyptus filtering the slanting afternoon sun.

Tomorrow, I'll be posting something of a companion piece to this song, "Sometimes." I wrote today's song immediately after "Sometimes" -- and, as often happens, the same themes and general emotional schema run through them -- but they're very different songs, highlighted by very different acoustic performance styles (at least in the case of these two versions).


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Last time I saw her a couple years ago
she was shovin' a couple of kids in a white volvo
the sun came down through the eucalyptus trees
made her hair just glow like it always used to be

right then I wish I could have said the words
that I could never say
cause if I'd told her baby I'll be yours
she'd be mine today

the pool house the beach house the boat house by the lake
I'll be damned if I remember a thing
but everytime I think about holding hands in school
it makes my heart just sing like it always used to do

right now I wish I could have said the words...

sometimes when I sleep I call her name
a thousand girls have told me so
I threw it all away and now I want it all back
and I know it can never be so
I know it can never be so

right now I wish I could have said the words
that I could never say
cause if I'd told her baby I'll be yours
she'd be mine today

October 1998
(C)1998 TK Major

Friday, November 18, 2005

Baby Was a Friend of Mine

XXXXX

Mythic super-anti-heroine alert. Yep, it's yet another Baby song.


Like Prometheus, half-man and half-god, chained to his rock and feasted on by birds of prey day after day only to be magically restored the next, ready to be tortured and maimed again... forever (for the crime of sneaking the gift of fire to Man... those "full" gods could be downright mean), the increasingly mythic Baby, child-woman, goddess-whore, seems doomed to appear endlessly in my songs.

Who is Baby? I asked in an earlier post.

I suggested that, while there were undoubtedly aspects of old girlfriends and love interests, Baby also probably represented a willful, destructive part of myself, as well.

I also noted that when I had just started playing guitar and writing songs as a 20 year old failed academic poet I swore I'd never use the word "baby" in a song unless I was referring to an infant. The Brian Eno song, "Baby's On Fire," however, opened up my mind and gave me new license to rise above pretense and embrace pop music as an idiom. Yo.

Anyhow, moving right along, we don't really know much about Baby -- at this point -- except that she is apparently in the permanent past tense. A song not yet on AYoS, "When Baby Can't Go On" seems to suggest that she may have written her own coda, perhaps by taking one final moonlight swim. (Not to be confused with the also upcoming "Swim or Die.")

The nice thing about writing her out by swimming her out to sea is that it has an open-ended lack of finality... what I like to think of as a disturbing lack of closure.

Because Baby is not at peace and she never will be... she's a restless, hungry soul, doomed to move through my songs, bringing lust, longing, and ultimate sorrow to our hapless hero again and again.

You'd think the poor sap would learn.


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Baby Was a Friend of Mine

the first time I saw her
I knew it was too late
a shadow fell across my soul
I asked her for a date

Baby was a pistol
way too hot to hold
baby was a big mistake
some things you cant be told

but baby
was a friend of mine
baby was a friend of mine
she couldn't keep from cheating
she never did stop lying
but baby was a friend of mine


Now, Baby drove me crazy
for almost seven years
then she drove away one day
with a repo-man from Sears

I found her in a Motel Six
out in San Berdoo
she was watching Lucy re-runs
and sniffing airplane glue

but baby
was a friend of mine...


Now the last time I saw her
she said that it was fate
I thought for sure you'd save me
(she) said as she turned away

I thought i saw a tear
slide across her face
I thought I saw forever
just as it slipped away

but baby
was a friend of mine
baby was a friend of mine
she couldn't keep from cheating
she never did stop lying
but baby was a friend of mine

(C)1992, TK Major

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Bankruptcy Court No. 9

Bankruptcy Court No. 9

Money, honey.

A sensible person doesn't need all that much.

But sensible people sometimes -- depsite their innate sensibility -- get tangled up with people who aren't sensible. Or anything close to it. People who refuse to acknowledge cold hard reality. People who invent their own reality and try to drag you in behind them. And when the reality you tried to share with them becomes an untenable fantasy, they leave you holding the big, stinky bag.

[BTW, you'll notice me as songwriter being hoist on the petard of my compulsion to work contemporary technology into my lyrics. Floppy disks for those of you who began computing in this century were those... ]

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Bankruptcy Court No. 9

my baby left me
left me sad and cryin...
she said I'm takin the plastic
leaving all these bills behind


I got a hearing monday down in
bankruptcy Court Number 9...
My baby won't be there with me
an neither wil my credit ine


Oh baby those checks you wrote
to the dress and jewelry stores
You hung so much bad paper
they won't take my (dough) cash no more

Telecredits got a file on you
takes a thousand floppy disks
TRW blew a main frame
just counting your bad checks

You drove me to the poorhouse
and shoved me thru the door
but first ya picked my pocket
to make sure they was no more

(C)1988

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Gospel of Greed

Gospel of Greed
Matthew 19:24


I shoulda been a preacher.

I've got it in me.

Not the good kind of preacher, who is always there to help or talk his parishioners through life's troubles. Who gives and gives and never thinks of himself.

Not hardly.

No. Of course, I mean the bad kind of preacher.

Not necessarily Robert Mitchum in Night of the Hunter... but something on that continuum. The sinner-preacher. Seducing the spinsters and lonely housewives and cheating the men in land deals. Maybe run for office, too... makes a certain kind of sense.

And that brings us smack face to face with this song...

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Gospel of Greed

It's the gospel of greed
they call it the age of me
but it isn't just I
Honey, it's them and thee

Now it's natural to want to
take care of yourself
but when you take too much
you steal from someone else

and if you think they're gonna take it lying down
you must be some kinda politician or TV-preacher clown
riding around in your Mercedes Benz
givin money to hookers and screwing your friends

(You're singing)
I don't care if the Eskimos freeze
long as they don't sneeze on me
I don't care if the starving survive
long as they don't try to make a feast of a slice of my pie

(C)1990, TK Major

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Beta Girls Go

Beta Girls Go
counting the holes in the ceiling tile
analyze the sex, index and file

measure the angle of the afternoon sun
measure the darkness when it's done

This was my attempt to suggest the outline of the story of two driven, silicon valley programmers at the end of an office entanglement.

Geeks may be geeks -- but even in that emotional netherworld, there are still unbreachable gulfs between men and women. As I imagine them, the woman has just broken off the relationship and the man is confused because she's the one who is hurt and angry...

... just like the last girl.

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Beta Girls Go

"version creep" is all she said
as she stared at her feet on the edge of the bed
"data drift" as she stood in the door
"we just don't vector anymore."

counting the holes in the ceiling tile
analyze the sex, index and file
measure the angle of the afternoon sun
measure the darkness when it's done

beta girls come and beta girls go
leave not a mark upon his soul
beta girls beta girls beta girls beta girls go

pools of light and soul-black night
17 at first daylight
silent complex cleaning crew
wait to shave until they're through

she gets to work just by noon
takes her laptop to the old break room
he trys not to look when he has to walk by
but as he closes the door he hears her cry

beta girls come and beta girls go
leave not a mark upon his soul
beta girls beta girls beta girls beta girls go

(C)2000 TK Major (2000-01-24)

Monday, November 14, 2005

World of Lies

World of Lies


Written in the summer of 1983... I was looking for something to shore up the romantic end of my song portfolio, which, after the punk years, was looking a little threadbare.

But what came out was this song that laces cynicism with romanticism (me, I think the two go hand in hand -- unlike love and cynicism, say) but manages, I like to think, to still suggest an honest, soul deep yearning. Or not.

It may seem strange, 22 years after its writing, that I've never gotten a proper, produced recording of this song onto tape or disk -- but I have often included it in live sets. I keep thinking I'll look up in the middle of performing it in some coffee house or dive and lock eyes with my next soul-mate, I guess.

This version gets the chords and words right but I'm still looking to the future to capture the song's true essence. You should pardon the expression.

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THE WORLD OF LIES

Meet me in the world of lies
let's be hypnotized...


You know that love is just a foolish game
it always fades away
I know that you won't stay
but at least you're hear today

Meet me in the world of lies
let's be hypnotized
Something in me goes wrong
every time a dream dies


I know that I'll always be alone
and I know life's just to die
I know a wise man gives up the world
but maybe I'm not that wise

Meet me in the world of lies
let's be hypnotized
Don't let this dream die
meet me in the world of lies


Summer 1983

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Somerset's Mom

Somerset's Mom


Sometimes guys like me get an idea that seems so surpassingly absurd, so enticingly what I believe on the street they call "dumb ass," that no amount of effort in bringing it to pass seems squandered.

Such was the case the day I decided to write a paean to the sexiest mother on the block, my imaginary best friend Somerset's mom.

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(I'm in Love with) Somerset's Mom

Ever since Somerset
and me were kids
I've been in love
with that mother of his

All thru hi skool
I was burning up
I tried to tell her
but I wasn't man enuff

I'm in love with somerset's mom
I'm in love with somerset's mom

went away to college
as far as I could
dated girls my age but
it didn't do no good

Now I'm back
with a PhD
but I don't even understand
my own psychology

I'm in love with somerset's mom
I'm in love with somerset's mom

3 grown kids and a bad divorce
but she still looks fine
now I'm grown myself -- I'm back
I'm gonna make her mine make her mine

I'm in love with somerset's mom
I'm in love with somerset's mom