Tag Archives: betrayal

Burning and Bitter

Burning and Bitter

I‘ll admit it.

I haven’t always been the paragon of street-smart, wised-up self-knowledge and steely-eyed maturity that I am today.

In fact, even when I was old enough to know better but still young enough to have not yet been smacked down really, really hard, I could be a bit of a jerk.

As one of my other, much later songs had it, “I let you down hard and I blamed it all on you,” which pretty much summed up my standard operating procedure in those days. Narcissistic.

The slip of a song below (from 1975 or so) is a case in point.

You’d think, from the scant lyrics, that the girl in question was a she-devil, a high priestess of temptation of Biblical proportions.

She was actually a very down-to-earth, warm, passionate young working mom in her mid-twenties, a couple of kids to feed and clothe, just starting out on what would be a very successful career as a health professional. We were romantically entangled for the better part of a year, the kids and I liked each other, I liked her, she liked me… but I wouldn’t commit to an exclusive relationship with her — on principle, I said — and she eventually blew me off a bit unceremoniously. (As I so richly deserved.)

But at least I have this song…

Burning and Bitter

Burning and bitter
are my thoughts tonight
I can taste the poison
of the lies I heard tonight
I have seen my soul
like the falcon you gunned down in flight
You’re a sorceress
you’re a temptress
but you’re oh
so sweet in the night

A note on this recording: I suppose I should apologize for the barrage of bad guitar that envelopes these meager lyrics. But it is all too appropriate to recapturing, however briefly, the excesses of my lost youth.

(C)1975 TK Major

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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.

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

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Little Baby Doll

Vini, Vidi, Vici -- Baby said when she came home.
It may be time to address the “Baby” issue.

Those familiar with my work will probably already know that, not only did I break my long-ago vow to “never write a song with the word baby in it” (made when I was a TS Eliot and Upanishad infatuated college poet just discovering that — for getting girls — a guitar on the quad beat a stack of dog eared poems in a basement reading on the second Monday of the month in the bowels of the Student Union building), but that at some point I became obsessed with what we shall henceforth refer to as “baby songs.”

Or, perhaps more properly, capital-B Baby songs, since, in many of these songs, “Baby” is more character name than endearment.

So, who is “Baby”?

At first, I thought, myself, that Baby was what some of us, back in the cosmic-gestalt enthralled 60s, called The Other — which, depending on context could refer to everything from God to one’s girlfriend, boyfriend, or pet dog.

And there is certainly something to that notion.

But as the character of Baby continued to develop over a number of songs (yes — someday there will be a Baby opera), I began to realize that Baby was also me — or some perversely vexing, chronically importunate, and ultimately, thoroughly disquieted part of myself.

[It should also be noted that I owe an eternal debt of gratitude to the man who wrote what I consider the Grandaddy of All Baby Songs, Brian Eno, and who gave us all some of my first and most important lessons in postmodern pop. That song, of course, would be the brilliant paen to a truly smoldering beauty, Baby’s On Fire. In fact, Little Baby Doll even contains a passing reference to that 70s underground classic.]

AYoS acoustic version:

produced version

Little Baby, Little Baby Doll

Baby started something
back in 1986
Baby started coming home
and showing me new tricks
Little Baby
Little Baby Doll

Baby said forever
just takes too much time
but Baby said “I’m here right now
so that should work out fine”
Little Baby…

“Veni Vidi Vici”
Baby said when she came home
I said that’s fine for Caesar
but Babylon ain’t Rome
Little Baby…

Baby liked to gamble
with the things she said she loved
but Baby blew her hands
when push came to shove
Little Baby…

Baby played the vagabond
Baby played the whore
Baby played with fire
she’s not playing any more
Little Baby…

Saw her on the street one day
but I didn’t call her name
After all this time
I know that Baby’s still the same
Little Baby
Little Baby Doll
Little Baby…

(C)1993, TK Major
(C)1993, TK Major

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