Monthly Archives: September 2005

Spit in the Ocean

Spit in the Ocean
I wrote this song when I was working in a gas station in a very rough part of town. You might think, from the lyrics, that I was feeling small, myself, but, much to the contrary, I felt like I was on top of the world. I had a job. I had a car. I had a nice little house I was renting in a decent neighborhood. I had a beautiful, whip-smart girlfriend. And the people around my gas station, by and large, had nothing. So, in a sense, I was writing about myself.

produced version [dub mix – on Soundclick]

 

Spit in the Ocean

You must think you’re oh so very
terribly important
with your car, your house, your maid,
your butler and your porters.

But seen from the stars
you’re the same as all of us are.
And it might seem a queer notion
but we’re all just spit
in the ocean.

Hop upon a plane
run around the world
Tokyo, Paris, Rome, Berlin
and they’re all full of your kind of girl.

You can have all the ones you want
you can play with people’s lives.
You can have all the rope you want
but soon enough they expect that noose
to be tied.

Seen from above
just another slightly balding head
a little bit of dandruff on the shoulders
but you’ll be dead
soon enough, anyway.

Hiding in your villa
on the Dalmatian Coast.
Your blue ribbon Afghan hound at your feet
the one that you prize the most.

But your baby’s got the rabies
and he’s gonna bite your foot.
ain’t there an end to the indignities
through which a human being
must be put.

Seen from the stars
Just another chunk of rock in space.
little ones crawling about on it
but they’ll be gone
soon enough, anyway.

You must think you’re oh so very
terribly important
with your car, your house, your maid,
your butler and your porters.

But seen from the stars
you’re the same as all of us are.
And it must seem a queer notion
but we’re all just spit
in the ocean.

(C) 1975, T.K. Major

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When Ashley Said Goodbye

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It’s another scorcher here in south Cali… not as oppressive, maybe, as yesterday — unless you’re foolish enough to decide to catch up with your quixotic blog/podcast (I know, I know, all blogs are quixotic. I’ll go one better, all communication is quixotic. But it’s too stinkin’ hot to argue about engines of futility… Where was I?) …not as oppressive unless you close all the windows, trying to shut out neighborhood noise to better please your audience (that would be you, noble and perhaps imaginary reader).

The lyrics, I think, are more or less self-explanatory. It started off heading towards being a catalog song (a bunch of girl’s names strung together with oneliners about them) but I’m not a fan of the form and diverted it to a general discourse on the nature of love… at least as it relates to simple-minded pop songs.

I wanted an old-timey kind of sound so I used my 3/4 sized spanish guitar that I bought for $50 at a music superstore. It’s my go-everywhere guitar. I was going for a small, cheap sound — and I think I nailed it.

 

When Ashley Said Goodbye

Amber said hello when Ashley said good-bye
I said hold on but there’s no wondering why
when love wants in, love can knock down yer door

I said Amber, I think this is forever
she said baby you’re yanking on my tether
when all is said and done love will even up the score

Love will fool ya — love can kill ya
Love is all that love can give ya
and still you keep coming back for more

Love is funny — love is cruel
Love’ll make Einstein act just like a fool
Love’ll make a tomcat dive in-a swimin pool

All these toys all these games
all these pretty dollhouses going up in flames
if you play around enough you know you’re gonna get burned

Love will fool ya — love can kill ya
Love is all that love can give ya
and still you keep coming back for more

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Kristin (Was Never Here)

It’s too hot to think, here… it’s certainly too hot to strap on a pair of headphones. I recorded this last week and put it aside for just such an occasion.

Kristin was written for an album of “girl name songs” back in 1996, The Barista Cycle. The women behind the names that inspired the songs were real — they worked at my favorite coffee shop — but the songs and the girls in them were entirely fictional. (Still it made for a few awkard moments with a couple of boyfriends and husbands.)

AYoS acoustic version:


Barista Cycle version:


Kristin Was Never Here

Kristin was never here
You didn’t see her slip in the back way
You didn’st see her float up the stairs
You didn’t see her perfect hand on my door
Because Kristin was never here

She loves me twice as much as him
Lord, I know that’s true
but she loves those kids 10000 times more
and, man, I know that too

Nothing adds up or works out right
Nothing’s gonna make it so
I’ve run the numbers a million times
at the bottom line I gotta go

Kristin was never here…

one last time I swear we only kissed
for a moment there were only two
eternity is where parallel lines meet
and all lies are true

You didn’t see her slip in the back way
You didn’st see her float up the stairs
You didn’t see her perfect hand on my door
Because Kristin was never here

____________

Did I mention it’s hot here? Stinking hot. Melting plastic hot.

Hot, hot, hot.

Hot.

(And, yes, my Riverside and San Berdoo brothers and sisters — I know I don’t know the meaning of the word.)

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Pretty Little Head

I got pain in my head and a fire in my loins…
and a whole lot of empty in my heart.

Love… loneliness… longing… lust. A continuum of consternation. The engine of desire.

I thought we were getting way too moody here… Indian summer seems to have kicked in. And with the sudden rush of warm winds and blue skies comes… longing… desire… and lust.

full version (2000)

Pretty Little Head

Babe I’ve been alone for such a long time
this loneliness tearin’ me apart
I got pain in my head and a fire in my loins
and a whole lot of empty in my heart

If you had a thought in your pretty little head
Then maybe we could talk
today we’re alive tomorrow we’re dead
so I think right now we’d better rock
I look in your eyes and I wonder what
is going on in your mind
Are you really where you are
or where you’ll be tomorrow night?

your leg touches mine beneath the table
I feel your hand slide up my thigh
I feel kinda dizzy I feel kinda high
I feel like I’m gonna die

If you had a thought in your pretty little head
Then maybe we could talk
today we’re alive tomorrow we’re dead
so I think right now we’d better rock

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