AS LUCK WOULD HAVE IT
The first official release from
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First, a brief introduction to the group:
Bennett-Kuroda is the duo unit of Samm Bennett, from the USA (singer & songwriter of the group, he plays three-string guitar and percussion) and Daisuke Kuroda, from Japan (on guitars). Based in Tokyo, they have performed extensively there since forming in 2018. Their total repertoire of songs now exceeds fifty or more, and they've narrowed it down to a lucky 13 tunes for this first release.
Samm has been writing songs since the early 1990s, and has released over the years a handful of records, some with his old band Chunk (and associated members) in New York City (Brooklyn was his home between 1984 & 1995), and some as a solo artist. He met Daisuke in 2018 when he shared a bill at a Tokyo venue with a group Daisuke was playing in. They hit it off immediately and started working together on Samm's songs shortly therafter. They've developed a solid rapport and a mutually satisfying working relationship that shows every sign of continuing and growing. |
Here's a rundown of the album, song by song, in order of their sequence on the album. Each tune is playable from the play bar, with full lyrics printed below the player, as well as some thoughts on the lyrics and music for each. A handful of the songs have videos you can watch, as well. Thanks so much for your your kind attention and consideration.
Burn My Souvenirs
gonna walk a thousand miles
gonna get back home to you gonna read that book i loaned you years ago and stay a week or two when it's time to head out again gonna be a ghost at my side we're gonna climb up onto your pony baby and ride ride ride then i'll burn, burn my souvenirs and kiss you goodbye gonna be a mirror on the highway broken into jagged shards gonna use those as the windows in my brand new house of cards but i won't be staying there long gonna keep moving toward the moon if i haven't passed you yet you can best believe i'll sure be passing you soon and then i'll burn, burn my souvenirs and kiss you goodbye i'll offer to the flames those precious souvenirs that i've held onto for so many years and won't be no more room for tears once the smoke clears gonna let the story go watch it turn inside out til it won't matter how it starts or ends or what it's about with the moon and sun as my eyes til i'm neither here nor gone til i can't tell the difference between myself and the road i'm on that's when i'll burn my souvenirs and kiss you goodbye goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, kiss you goodbye |
Several of the songs on As Luck Would Have It have a central underlying theme of travel, of a restless need to be somewhere else, to move on, and perhaps to reach some ideal destination. This first one in the collection is one such number. The tale is spun with threads of fantastical or Surrealist-inspired imagery, and in doing so points to a journey of a metaphysical nature. Most importantly, with the return to this proclamation at the end of each verse - then i'll burn my souvenirs and kiss you goodbye - the teller of this tale is imagining, and working toward, an ultimate goal of letting go, of both the signifiers and reminders of his past, and (with that farewell kiss) a person he needs to leave behind as well. Even though these things were "precious", they need to be done away with forever, in order to... be free? Maybe. But we can't know. The protagonist is, after all, just imagining all this: it's still all just a grand plan, still all just in his head.
The rhythmic flavor of the music is relaxed, but subtly insistent. The percussion that opens the tune and continues throughout is reminiscent of the sound of slow but determined footsteps on gravel. The traveler's persistent forward motion. The cello-like reverse guitar notes that hover over the proceedings like a sheltering sky are protective but still somehow ominous, hinting at a journey which might actually be fraught with danger of some still-unknown nature. Daisuke's soulful acoustic guitar solo also carries, somehow, the feeling of a lament: there is a certain touch of sadness or introspection at the heart of this musical interlude just prior to the bridge section of the song, where our narrator makes clear his brave (or is it foolhardy?) intention of ridding himself of his memories, and his vision for a happier tomorrow once that is accomplished. All we can do is wish him luck, and hope that he's not merely fooling himself...
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Drinking
i been drinking all day
and the day before now the sun is going down i believe i’ll drink a little more i guess it’s all just a question of how much a body can take but-i-tell you what, at this point i'm only drinking for my sanity’s sake seems like the world is caving in up is down and down is up but if there’s whiskey in the bottle i’m gonna pour it in my cup i guess it’s all just a question of how brave a man can be i guess i ain't no hero maybe i’m just fiddling while Rome burns down just call me Emperor Nero ah, but we all got to face the horrors of the world you know as best as we can so me and Jim Beam and Mr Jack Daniel too we got a mutual plan we call it drinking, we call it drinking so will you be joining me tonight? we can marry our fortunes together looks like you’re weary of this crazy old world just like me, we might be birds of a feather i guess it’s all just a question of how much we're gonna need to put away i'm afraid i might need more and more just to keep these blues at bay hey hey hey hey hey we call it drinking, that's right, we call it drinking pour a little bit in my cup, hey we call it drinking go ahead and fill it all the way up, we call it drinking |
Moving from the poetically imagistic mood of the opening number, this song shifts the gears abruptly into a decidedly more earthbound set of references: namely... booze, and the all-too-human need for its comforts and perceived remedial effects. Folk music or deep Americana afficionados might recognize the very first line - i been drinking all day and the day before - as the same line that opens a wonderful recording from folk archivist Alan Lomax, whose ever-wandering tape machine captured, in the year 1937 in Livingston Alabama, a sweetly captivating a capella vocal performance by a woman named Vera Ward Hall. Ms Hall had herself borrowed the line from a recording of a song called "Moonshine Blues" recorded in 1923 by early blues legend Ma Rainey. Unlike Hall and Rainey's tellings, though, the teller of this inebriated tale is not imagining he'll "get sober" and "ain't gonna drink no more", but rather, that as night falls he intends to keep right on putting it away! "I believe I'll drink a little more". From there the deep existential funk that necessitates the imbibing of alcoholic beverages is explained, and, well... more drinking ensues. As you'd expect.
The musical environment is driving, thumping and vigorous, with plenty of enthusiasm for the subject matter! Samm's 3-string guitar sets the pace, and the four-on-the-floor bass drum keeps it solidly rooted in a hoe-down/disco stomp. In a nod to the old jug bands of the 1920s (i.e, Memphis Jug Band, Mississippi Sheiks) there is a decidedly jug-like vocal bass line deep in the mix that helps to keep the party underway. Sharp interjections of crisp electric guitar riffery answer the vocal melody throughout, and the lightning guitar solo is a juke joint picker's delight. Rumor has it that Samm and Daisuke both were hitting their hip pocket flasks a little more than usual on this one.
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Taking Our Trumpets To Jericho
now brother take your golden calf
and leave it by the highway gonna go down to Georgia we're gonna do things my way stopping at the temple, got to borrow a little money take you to Savannah, man, the land of milk and honey if your mama and your papa ask you where you’re gonna go just tell ‘em you’re bringing your trumpet down to Jericho and the walls, hey the walls are gonna come down Pharoah’s army passing through we’ll sell ‘em beans and whisky we’ll stay out of Birmingham, that place is just too risky cross the river Jordan where Confederate flags are flying tramping down the grapes of wrath good lord knows we’re trying down here it’s pretty clear who’s your friend and who’s your foe just keep pointing your trumpet over at Jericho and the walls, hey the walls are gonna come down i say they're gonna come down tumbling down, tumbling down tumbling down, tumbling down battle hymns and fiddle tunes and sound of angels crying harp of David’s down at the thrift shop ain’t nobody buying Romans with their swords and torches used our house for kindling banjos on our knees like weapons Caesar will be trembling slave master’s sleeping in his big bed, don’t you know he’s gonna hear our trumpets all the way from Jericho and the walls, yeah the walls are gonna come down |
With practically every line, this song blends references to the Bible with references to the US south, the former Confederacy. The River Jordan, Pharoah's armies and the harp of David collide and interlock with Birmingham, Confederate flags and banjos on our knees. Anyone raised in the Deep South, or anyone who's spent time there, will know that throughout the region churches are pretty much everywhere, so ubiquitous in many rural and urban areas that you can hardly throw a rock without hitting one. And Christian belief has, of course, long held a strong place in the psyche of the sons and daughters of the south. Consequently, the weaving of Biblical tales and imagery into the social and cultural fabric of the world below the Mason-Dixon line in song form like this is somehow... unavoidable.
The timelines of recent history within this song are blurred, so that references to slave masters and thrift shops can exist in the same spectrum, and they in turn can find themselves rubbing elbows with the Golden Calf and Caesar of the ancient world. The doors between the past and the present are wide open, and time is fluid. The ancient, the recent past, the present... it's all there, together, in a spiralling swirl that might best be imagined as something seen from the window of a car as it rolls down some forgotten old highway in Alabama: through pine forests, past trailer parks and vegetable patches and, of course, endless old wooden churches, as well as the brand new ones that look more like aircraft hangars surrounded by parking lots. All while someone in the back seat reads you a Bible story that you remember from childhood. Perhaps the fantastical story of the Battle of Jericho. And perhaps you can imagine certain metaphorical walls tumbling down right there around you, in the Heart of Dixie. The musical accompaniment to this lyrical exercise in time travel is relaxed and buoyant, in no hurry to get anywhere, but simply content to lay down an easy path for the ideas to unfold. The nylon-string guitar ostinato lends a gentle presence that contributes to the overall mood of calmly matter-of-fact observation of seemingly unlikely connections between far-flung peoples and events.
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Once the War is Over
once the war is over, there’ll be dancing in the street
won’t be no more enemies, only brothers and sisters to meet the sun will shine the wine will flow, we’ll pick the ripened fruit and never again feel upon our neck the cruel and bloody boot the die will be recast, the darkness will have passed and we'll be free at last once the war is over there’s gonna be good dreams for everyone no more nightmares in your head where missiles blazed and bullets flew there’ll be be sweet songbirds instead all the fire and the smoke and the fury will fade like a train rolling away we’ll lay down to sleep each night with the promise of a better day there’ll be new bells to ring, brighter songs to sing there'll be joy in everything once the war is over now hear me brothers and sisters, up until that joyful day just try to keep yourselves alive, keep the murderous beast at bay and keep that little candle of hope a-burning people that’s the only way we’re gonna follow a better path, ain’t gonna study war no more we‘ll know it’s not the answer, we’ll stay clear of that evil door we’ll ignore the voices of violence, we will not take their bait we will not be seduced by monsters preaching death and hate the terror, the misery, and the evil will be rejected won't be no more shining monuments to warriors erected we'll shine the light of peace and see that righteous light reflected once the war is over once the war is over |
This song is simply an anthem, a rallying cry for peace, an eternally hopeful voice, against all odds, that war will be over, forever. In the midst of the darkest and most brutal of times, times of war, the human spirit hangs on, and maintains a sense of something beyond, something better and brighter than the madness unfolding all around. Once the War is Over is an articulation of that desire for a life without the insanity of death and blood and mass murder. A refusal to capitulate to "the voices of violence".
Musically, the song has a percussion-driven urgency, full of bells and rattles and shakers that skitter throughout, and the guitars find their rhythmic and ornamental places within the busy fray. But at the center of it all is a pendulum, as one sees on a grandfather clock, that keeps the groove rooted in the certainty that the lyrics express. Like a person who gently, almost imperceptibly rocks back and forth while the world around moves at a more agitated pace. A keeper of the faith, a presence that refuses to be ensnared and entangled, a believer in peace.
And here's a video, with lyrics... |
Watch and Chain
saw my daddy standing by the roadside
he was wearing a hat i‘d never seen before he pointed toward the sun, said "i’ll be goin’ now tell the boss man i'm not comg to work no more i left you my old watch and chain, hanging by the door" walked back home kicking a can along the way the sound was like the music in my head an old man passing by said “sounds like a funeral” it was then i knew my mama, she was dead i turned around and headed, headed for the river instead don't the seconds pass like a frozen ocean and don't the decades pass just as fast as lightning if you find the time won’t you save some for me? please save some for me heard about a land across the ocean where they never need to know the time of day i won't need watch and chain in that sweet place i’m bound to go there and i’m bound to stay ain't nobody left round here to stop me anyway |
This song is an allegorical autobiography. Goodbye to father, goodbye to mother, and finally goodbye to the trinket the father left in his son's care. Though the watch and chain is ostensibly something of some value or importance, the son soon won't be needing it anymore, since time can't actually be measured with it. Time is too rigid one moment and too malleable the next. It is unstable and unpredictable. And in addition to that, time is not observed in the same way everywhere: what's real here is an illusion there. So, the son is bound to go *there*, to find that place. Perhaps he will.
A simple arpeggio pattern from Samm's three-string guitar serves as the stripped-down basis for this song, with only the ultra-minimal percussion of a bass drum and a tambourine added, akin to the steady tick of a timepiece. A cascade of lush, lovely and flowing guitar melodies from Daisuke, though, pours over this spare arrangement, bringing a sinuous, liquid beauty to the stark, measured, timekeeping pulse of the other instruments.
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Dancing Rabbit Creek
i first met my sweet Molly
down at Dancing Rabbit Creek she was six years old and i was seven we were playing hide and seek oh how i hoped and prayed she'd find me i thought i’d give her a little kiss, oh yes i would i swear she was the prettiest thing i'd ever seen she was the queen of my childhood down at Dancing Rabbit Creek you shoulda seen us laughing and playing down at Dancing Rabbit Creek there passed a few more years and me and Molly grew into more than just friends don’t you know we had a secret place, a little clearing in the woods with the moon up above all aglow oh how i hoped and prayed she'd love me forever oh yes i did well didn't i now i never imagined there could be no one better didn't i love that girl, oh yes and how down at Dancing Rabbit Creek you should have seen us laughing and loving down at Dancing Rabbit Creek on the day that Molly turned 21 years old i was gonna turn 22 just the very next week we’d arranged to meet at our secret place just near the bank of the creek but when i arrived i found the little note it was pinned on that old magnolia tree it said 'sorry my darling, but i'm gone and gone forever you just forget about me' down at Dancing Rabbit Creek you should have seen me cryng and crying down at Dancing Rabbit Creek |
Just a simple telling of a love story, in three verses. A sweet tale of young love, full of promise and happiness. But, in the last of the three verses, it all vanishes, just like that. Like a wisp of smoke in a deep gust of wind, gone. We can feel that kind of devastation unique to losing one's young love, that intensely deep first love of one's youth. The kind of pain one can all too often feel, deep inside, even after decades have passed. A piece of your heart that stays broken.
The music is every bit as joyful and celebratory as the story that's told in the first two verses. Bright and bouncy, and in a major key! Right up until that moment that the bitter truth is revealed. Our chronicler of young love didn't see that cruel turn of events coming, and the musical accompaniment doesn't want you to see it coming either. The music maintains its happy disposition, even after it is clearly no longer a happy tale being told. One is perhaps reminded of the American standard You Are My Sunshine, with its seemingly rosy and optimistic title and its infectiously happy melody, but with lyrics that portray a desperately sad and lovelorn person. A kind of reminder that music doesn't always exactly... tell the truth.
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In My Spare Time
i'm jumping through hoops, running cross town
honing my act, gonna bring the house down writing your name with smoke on the wind baby can't you hear me? i'm just round the bend and every so often i stumble, stumble on the perfect rhyme in my spare time i’m feeling the sunshine through the foggy gloom setting the night on fire alone in my room ten thousand things rise and then of course they fall they say if you can't beat 'em join 'em man i'm joinin’ ‘em all and i'm looking up at the mountain the one they said i'd have to climb in my spare time i hear the snakes all around me hissing looking for the one word, the one word missing i'm watching the sun go down behind the hill come see me at midnight, i'm hoping you will then together we could plan we could plan the perfect crime in my spare time they say that time moves round in a circle ah, but time doesn’t move at all it don’t flow like a river or roll like a highway time’s just only our slave master that’s all you've got a certain something, a certain je ne sais quois a certain way about you, darling, when you lay down the law you tell me i should roll with the punches well honey that's just exactly what i do you say you're thinking about me that might even be true and we might meet again somewhere somewhere down the line in my spare time |
Time emerged as a theme in one of the preceding numbers, Watch and Chain, and it surfaces here again as a thread running through this one as well. Lines that portray a certain forlornness and futility like "writing your name with smoke on the wind" and
"i hear the snakes all around me hissing" are only slightly tempered by only slightly more *hopeful* lines like "i’m feeling the sunshine through the foggy gloom" or, "they say if you can't beat 'em join 'em, man i'm joinin’ ‘em all". Clearly this is someone who is doing what he can to make the best of a bad situation, looking for whatever little jewels he can maybe find amid the rubble. And all the while, he seems to do it all in... his spare time. Perhaps all his time is "spare time"? At any rate, once we're at the bridge, we find him expressing his fatalistic view time is that time is simply... our slave master. He's resigned to that. But in the last two verses, we find that there's someone else, someone only hinted at in the very first verse, someone perhaps significant enough to help our protagonist find his way through his existential malaise. However.... maybe not. In the end, it's unclear what will happen, how this will all play out, but somehow we get the feeling that our narrator will be OK. A certain dark sense of humor and a certain ability to accept things as they are will probably see him through... Musically, this is one of the *bigger* sounding, more anthemic tracks in the collection. The melancholy tinge of the opening notes from guitar set the emotional tone. Then, in chiming, declamatory chords the 1st verse is introduced, and in the verses following, the loping, insistent percussion carries the song along with a steady clip clop rhythm, akin to the sound of some big-hoofed horse pulling a heavy wagon along a cobblestone street.
And here's a video, with lyrics...
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I'm Off To Nowhere
i’m off to nowhere, please come along
that’s where they’re playing our favorite song that’s what they told me, that’s what i heard you coming with me? just say the word i’m bound to go there, i'm off to nowhere i’m off to nowhere, i hope you’ll come i’ll have my trumpet, you bring your drum we’ll find the sugar, we’ll shake it down we’ll tell the mayor we own this town i’m bound to go there, i'm off to nowhere i took a number, it was never called jumped in my buggy, the engine stalled i heard somebody say “nowhere feels right” thought to myself: i better go there tonight! i’m off to nowhere i’m off to nowhere, come go with me the food is decent, the drinks are free it’s strictly first class, we’ll go in style they’ll give an inch babe, we’ll take a mile i took a number, it was never called ... i’m off to nowhere, just round the bend perhaps the journey will never end but i can promise along the way that if we get there we might just stay stay we're bound to go there, we're off to nowhere bound to go there, we're off to nowhere nowhere, we're off to nowhere |
Movement. Travel. The journey. As mentioned earlier, these are themes that find their way into several of the songs here. This is another one: the teller of this little narrative is also planning to hit the road, and he's especially eager to get going. The fellow overheard someone saying "nowhere feels right", and thought, "hey! That's where I'm headed, then!" And though it seems clear that there was a key misunderstanding involved in his interpretation, this chap's enthusiasm for his destination of Nowhere is absolutley undiminished and unclouded by any pesky second thoughts. And not only is he going, but he's just so damn certain that it's THE place to be that, of course, he wants YOU to come with him. Perhaps you will.
A steady, driving pulse is what it'll take to get to Nowhere, one reckons, and that's what's brought to bear on this little number. Overall, the rhythmic character of the tune might be described as Afro-Celtic: a bit of, say, Thomas Mapfumo meets the Chieftans. From the guitars there's a combination of ringing chords and tightly intricate rhythmic interplay, and from the percussion a rolling, churning blend of udu, bells, scrapers and more.
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Back Door Slam
somebody told me that the future’s wide open
but i’m not so sure that it is well anyway what would i know? i’m just a fool trying to make it in showbiz still there’s people here and there who seem to think i’m smart but where they got that idea, i don’t know well anyway it’s been nice talking to you but now i really must go you see i'm going to Tuscaloosa, way down in Alabam and as i leave i promise i won't let the back door slam won't let the back door slam i used to know a girl from Texas she used to lie and say she came from New York said she once drank champagne with Elvis she still carries around the cork she showed up at my place one night sayin’ "i don’t love you but for now you’ll have to do" and then this is what she said to me, just as soon as our one night romance was through she said "i'm going to Tuscaloosa, way down in Alabam and as i leave i promise i won't let the back door slam won't let the back door slam" just as sure as the darkest hour is erased by the light of the dawn if you just let the door close softly behind you no one will know that you’re gone no one will know you’re gone now all of us have got to get through this life as unscathed as we possibly can and i been around the block once or twice but if you’re seeking good advice honey, i’m not your man sure i could show you some scars here and there in my soul but i’m sure you’ve got some of your own and i ain’t got no pearls of wisdom to offer best i-can do is just to throw you this bone and tell you to go to Tuscaloosa, way down in Alabam and as you leave you got to promise you won't let the back door slam won't let the back door slam |
Just some good old fashioned advice: don't let that back door slam. No need to alert everyone in the house and down the block that you're leaving. Just let that door close softly behind you, nice and gentle. That'll be better.
A lazy, swampy, let's-take-our-sweet-time quality defines this one, musically. The song is in no hurry at all, nothing to prove. Sure, a few beats get punched and accentuated here and there, for a bit of emphasis, but the mood always falls right back into that easy lilt, unrushed and as welcome as a gentle breeze blowing across the front porch while you sit in your rocking chair nursing a nice cold beer.
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Chicken and Wine
go and tell your mama i need some collard greens
cause last night i had somebut only in my dreams down in the southlands, where the boll weevils fly you trade your soul at the crossroads for some sweet potato pie . but mister Mason and mister Dixon they went and drew a little line let's cross it honey, and sit beside the river with some chicken and wine, chicken and wine south of Tuscaloosa, north of Mobile i met a sharecropper’s daughter who had lost her wagon wheel she said "won’t you help me mister carry my corn to town then we’ll go and spend some money soon-as-the the sun goes down cause mister Mason and mister Dixon they went and drew a little line let's cross it honey, and sit beside the river with some chicken and wine, chicken and wine" i guess there must be banjos playing all through the night and butter melting on the biscuits in the morning light this dusty little country road take you to my juke joint shack we can put everything we own in a gunny sack headin’ for Biloxi, i know a gambler over there he’ll loan me fifty dollars, i know he’s got it to spare you can get a new dress, i’ll get a bottle or two beneath the Mississippi moonlight we’ll have a sweet rendezvous |
Like Taking Our Trumpets To Jericho, this number has the US south as its setting, but minus the Biblical bits. It joyfully trades in stereotypical cliches like trading one's soul at the crossroads (but for sweet potato pie!) and sharecropper's daughters carryin' their corn to town, and Mississippi gamblers, and boll weevils and more. The Deep South in all its mythic glory! Where chicken and wine (which might ring a bell with some of you familiar with one or two old country blues numbers from years past) is the height of fine dining! Go and tell your mama!
A bit of a snazzy jazzy shuffle sends this one from south of Tuscaloosa (of Back Door Slam fame) all the way over to Biloxi, Mississippi, propelled by chunky rhythm guitars, giant Amazonian seed pods rattling, and talking drums tumbling and rumbling along like watermelons rolling down a hill. And though this song, as well as Taking Our Trumpets To Jericho, mentions banjos, no actual banjos were harmed during the making of this album.
Can't guarantee that'll be the case for Bennett-Kuroda's followup release, however. Banjos are always lurking in the background, ready to pounce. |
Big Black Cloud of Birds
i’m gettin’ out of this beanfield
ain‘t gonna pick no more beans i'm gonna burn all these newspapers i been reading don’t know what none of it means no i don’t know, don't know what none of it means i’m gonna go visit a dear old friend we’re gonna drink us some beers a great big glorious wave of alcohol is gonna wash away our doubts and fears gonna wash away all our doubts and fears as of today everything's gonna change people mark my words i'm gonna move through the sky, yes i am like a big black cloud of birds i’m gonna catch me a bus, yes i am that runs thru all those pretty little towns in France with the pretty girls on board, they’re young and i’m old but where there’s hope there's always be a chance where there’s hope, i believe there's always be a chance as of today everything's gonna change . . . you see them fly together by the thousands you see them swoop and dive as one and buddy if that ain’t magic, well i don’t know what is and tell me, don’t it look like fun? now i might fall asleep and dream that i’m a rainbow or dream that i’m the president, or in jail and it’ll all be true, every dream is true! so honey i hope you’ll come and pay my bail hope you’ll come and pay my bail cause as of today everything's gonna change . . . |
In a series of seemingly unrelated verses, that magical flock of starlings our wistful minstrel draws sweet inspiration from somehow ties everything together. Whether he's "gettin' outta this beanfield" or knocking back some beers with a friend in a "great big glorious wave of alcohol" ,or catching a bus in France "with the pretty girls on board", he knows he'll ultimately break free of everything and soar like that big black cloud of birds. That wondrous, shifting clouds draws him in, gives him hope, and lets him know that it all... means something. Surely it all means something. Every random thought and event somehow interconnects and interelates, and forms some sort of glorious, breathtaking movement which is the ultimate state of being.
We wish him luck. This is another tune with that slow pendulum swaying back and forth at the center, maintaining a relaxed and stately pace throughout. Daisuke's reverse guitar work that appears here and there conjures up the essence of unbounded flight, sweeping and darting across the sonic proceedings.
And here's a video, with lyrics...
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Bigger Fish To Fry
i woke up this morning
a lot on my mind it’s true a whole lotta problems bothering me one of those problems was you but then it occurred to me baby all i got to do is tell you goodbye cause truth of the matter honey is i got bigger fish to fry i got some bigger fish to fry (my my my) Jesus was strolling round Bethlehem visiting his old home town there was this one guy who spotted him and started following Jesus around finally he said "Jesus, i got this ingrown toenail won’t you heal me Jesus, won’t you try?" Jesus said "man i’m on vacation plus i got bigger fish to fry i got some bigger fish to fry" hey it’s true man won’t hardly fit in my frying pan people i ain’t lyin’, let me get back to my fryin’ right on back to my fryin’ now you could go to church on Sunday or you could stay home and drink makes no difference either way that’s exactly what i think and even if you don’t believe in God you could still go to heaven when you die y’see God don’t care, buddy, what you believe God's got bigger fish to fry she got some bigger fish ... bigger fish God's got some bigger fish to fry |
Hey, the fellow spinning this yarn's got bigger fish to fry, you'd best believe. And Jesus, yeah, the big J, HE'S got bigger fish to fry. And even GOD's got bigger fish to fry. Yup, you BET she does! So everybody stop with the small stuff, alright? We all got more important things to deal with.
Musically speaking, this song's as peppy as it's GOT to be. These are important points being made, and the sense of urgency in the performance is palpable. Daisuke's guitar solo would be right at home in any respectable roadhouse smelling of beer and fried catfish being cooked by some burly guy in a stained apron who comes out of the kitchen every now and then to eject any customer who gets too friendly with the waitress.
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Not a Place You Can Stay
there was a fat man onstage, singing Who Do You Love
time was moving backwards around the full moon above and then the curtain came down rock and roll was dead everybody had a bloody bandage wrapped around their head and when the doctors arrived they said there’s nothing left to do now but pray the nurses whispered to us that yesterday is not a place you can stay i bummed a smoke , you bummed a light we passed the cigarette back and forth, we did that all night and the angels were singing Roll Over Beethoven a powerful rain started falling, and the river was swollen and when the floodwaters rose your mama and daddy were swept away that’s how it goes remember yesterday is not a place you can stay whatever possessed us to think we could make the time stand still as far as i know it never has i reckon it never will we better go where the cool kids go or we’re gonna be left behind if we can’t make the journey to the center we’ll at least reach the edges of the mind i got a feeling my darling that tonight we're gonna Break On Through everything's been lined up way too straight from now it's gonna all go askew and in the sweet confusion we’re gonna be happily led astray it’ll be clearer than ever that yesterday is not a place you can stay |
There's a lot of nostalgia out there, and people love to return to some of those friendly places in their minds, perhaps an old song from their younger days. And that can be nice, and comforting, and pleasurable. But of course, that's not a place you can stay. This song is just a certain recognition of that fact, nothing more.
This number, that closes the album, has an easy lilt in the rhythm, helped along by warm arpeggios from the acoustic guitar and plenty of percussion in the form of bongos, triangle, shakers, woodblocks, cowbells... Syrupy slide guitar interjections act like glue holding the sections together, and the whole thing is as effortless as a pleasant memory.
And here's a video, with lyrics...
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The CD jacket design...
And here are some photos of the group, from live shows...
Here is an interview (bilingual) with legendary radio personalty Peter Barakan, from Bennett-Kuroda's recent visit to the Inter-FM radio studio, where we had a chat with Peter and played some tunes from the release...