Monthly Archives: April 2006

It’s Saturday night, Michelle

Michelle... it's Saturday night, Michelle...

Ma Bell is back…

After the Reagan administration broke oup the (once government sanctioned) AT&T telephone monopoly (to “lower telephone costs”… back then my phone bill was about $7 a month) it split up into pieces and then the Texas based piece started buying up the other pieces and now the Texas based piece IS AT&T… in name if not in spirit. A lot of money changed hands, if nothing else. Must have benefitted someone. You’d think.

Anyhow, what with AT&T back in the news I’m hoping I might not have to explain the bad pun that drives this song. That said, there’s a bit of an autobiographical element to it… not that I sat home alone nights while my gay friends were out having a swell time but rather that I did work as a temp for a regional Bell, working long hours for a few intense weeks, and not only observed the peculiar dynamic of a workplace that was about 2/3 straight women and 1/3 unstraight men but heard more than a few women lamenting the unavailability of the sharp-dressing, well-turned young men. (As one of only several straight men, I thought I would clean up. But it’s harder to compete against them pretty boys than a good ol’ boy like me might imagine… )

Anyway, as I pointed out in the first posting of this song, it was written as part of my 1996 project, The Barista Cycle. That project revolved around songs written using the names of the current distaff staff of my favorite coffee shop. The songs were pointedly not intended to be about their namesakes. Still, fate provided a bit of resonance: the real Michelle eventually left the coffeeshop to become… an airline stewardess. And one of her best friends when last we talked was a handsome young male coworker…

previous AYoS version

Michelle (It’s Easy to Be Sad)

Michelle
Ma Bell was such a strange career choice
I know you did it to be around all them pretty boys
but I’m afraid you will never be annoyed
by smooth operators down in the break room
they’ve all got something else to do

Michelle
Ma bell was no place to meet boys
all the best they’re all just someone else’s toys
all of the strut and all of the noise
all the clothes and all the poise
they’ve all got something else to do
Michelle

It’s a saturday night michelle
It’s a saturday night michelle
It’s a saturday night michelle
And when Monday morning comes around
You know you’ll hear how it all went down
and you know how it’ll make you feel
the same old loneseome way
It’s easy to be sad
when all your boyfriends are gay

Sayanora, baby… auf weidersen… [Hasta la Vista, m’Cheri]

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Saynora, baby... auf weidersen...

Long ago (but not necessarily far away) I went out with an extremely intelligent, talented young woman who was, at the time, even more troubled than I was.

I was having difficulty “committing” to a serious relationship with her (Me? No way… ) and she talked me into seeing a relationship counsellor with the notion that he could counsel me around my aversion.

After spending several sessions laying out the ground rules that my drinking was off-limits (“Hello, my name is TK, I’m an alcoholic and that’s the last we’ll have of that. Let’s move on to why I can’t commit to a steady relationship, thankyavurrymuch…”) we settled into a somewhat labored probing of my psyche — or at least the public areas.

Eventually, after I’d laid out my feelings of interpersonal claustrophobia and we’d probed the wreckage of a recent, stormy two year relationship (with a side trip or two to my turbulent home life as a youth — much of it surely due to my own mercurial mood shifts and borderline Aspergerian monomanias) he finally looked me in the eye and said:

“Well, what do you think you should do? Compassion, guilt, sentiment aside. If you were giving hard-headed advice to a friend in your position — if you were me — what would you say?”

And I thought about it. Not like I didn’t know the answer. I’d just never said it out loud or really even rolled it over in my head.

“Well… I guess I’d tell him to break off the relationship gently but firmly and try to heal his own wounds.”

And he looked at me intently for a while until he made sure I got the point of my own words.

And then he said, “Now if you ever want to talk about that drinking…”

So, being the tower of personal stength and integrity that longtime AYoS readers know me to be… [ahem] … I found myself saying: “Well, honey [I didn’t call her honey — I NEVER used endearments like that which is probably why I’m always drawn to using them in my songs -TK]… well, honey, the Doc gave me some advice… he suggested that we ought to break up. Y’know it tears me up…”

Yeah. I was a huge coward. But this relationship really did scare me. Pondering it was like staring into a place I knew my gaze would never pierce… a place I could never understand.

______________

There are many tips o’ the tam to favorite bands in this song… Sparks, Joy Division, a number of country writers…

PS: Yes… I know that AYoS is a week behind… maybe you’d like to come up here and lend a hand, huh? Really, I’m gonna catch up… there’s plenty more droney songs about whiney losers where these came from…

previous AYoS version

Hasta la Vista m’ Cheri

I’m sorry I have to go
but I thought you might like to know
it’s not my heart
that made us part
I’m just leaving cause I have to go

Sometimes love tears us apart
sometimes it’s best not to start
but sometimes you find
that love’s truly blind
and usually you’re just not too smart

So it’s: “Hasta la vista m’ cheri,”
It’s just another way to say “Ciao, Baby”
Sayanora, auf weidersein
I’ll see you when I see you again.

I don’t know when we’ll meet again
but at least we’re parting as friends
Maybe I lied
of but Baby I tried
A mistake I won’t be makin’ again

I’m sorry I have to go
but I thought you might like to know
It’s not my heart
that says we must part
It’s my shrink that says you gotta go

Because I couldn’t have you… [I Slept with Your Sister]

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Because I couldn't have you...

Rivalry between siblings is the engine that drives a fair amount of literature and myth. When sex and/or romance or some combination of the two spike the fuel for that engine as they often do… you’ve got one high maintenance machine. Or something.

Anyhow, the song below is my humble effort in that tradition.

previous AYoS version
Internet Archive page
[multiple format DL and stream options]

I Slept with Your Sister

I slept with your sister
cause I couldn’t have you
She was younger she was prettier
and she wanted me too

we rolled and we tumbled
all night long
and then the phone rang
just before dawn
It was you on the line
from the phone downstairs
maybe you were lonely
maybe you were scared
and maybe I’ll never know
why you were there

I slept with your sister
’cause I couldnt have you
she was younger she was prettier
but it didn’t ring true

we rolled and we tumbled
all night long
and when the phone rang
just before dawn

It was you on the line
from the phone downstairs
maybe you were lonely
maybe you were scared
and maybe I’ll never know
why you were there

2003-08-21
(C)2003, TK Major

I’m just listening to the plaster crack… [Blue Recollection]

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Blue Recollection

I‘m not the first drunk to suggest that he drank not to forget but to not care. I found that the latter state was typically arrived at just before the former.

I also found that, if you were careful, you could get into that state early in the evening and stay in it until, oh, sometime… sometime when it just didn’t matter, anymore.

I found myself stymied by this song over the last few days. I’d recorded a version of it and started to put it up on the web… but as I listened to it, I realized it simply wasn’t up to the high standards of…

OK, no, seriously, even I couldn’t browbeat myself into putting that version up. The next day, as much because I’d written down the song title in a draft of the day’s AYoS blog entry, I found myself both compelled and unable to finish the song. And move on.

But the song defied me. Hell, it laughed in my face. Late each night I tried again to get an acceptable version. It became, you know, a thing.

I finally turned the song inside out and stripped out the familiar blues elements and repetitions.

I suppose I ought to have a periodic disclaimer that stipulates that I’m painfully aware of how far from pitch my singing typically is. I like to think of it as… uh… expressive.