Posts from the music Category

A favorite Thanksgiving Song. *Hat tip* to John.

(That’s Why There’s No) Thanksgiving Song.mp3

(That’s Why There’s No) Thanksgiving Song

Can’t sing along, cuz there’s no Thanksgiving song

Pieces of April, now scattered round the table

How many more, that’s what this day is for

Take the tin foil from the tray, set silverware and plates

Paper napkins from the drawer

Too gold to stay too long… that’s why there’s

Cheap beer and football, sweet wine and pratfalls

Careful when you go to plate the cranberries should keep the shape

Of thecan, our silly yearly plan

Makes us laugh until we shake, what little sense it makes

To save the expiration date

Too gold to stay too long…. that’s why there’s no Thanksgiving song

I sneak upstairs, the family unaware

And looking through the window, I see the grass still visible

Through the snow, and from the floor below

Familiar sounds of washing pans, the work of wrinkled hands

And thoughts of long ago

Too gold to stay too long… that’s why there’s

No Thanksgiving song, nothing to sing along

Pieces of April, now scattered round the table

How many more, that’s what this day is for

Take the tin foil from the tray, set silverware and plates

Paper napkins from the drawer

Too gold to stay too long…that’s why there’s

No Thanksgiving song, nothing to sing along, nothing to sing along ·

This guy – Jeffrey Foucault – has been a solid favorite of mine for years. He just released a new recording and one that I have on repeat at the moment. Powerful words wrapped in simple chords and gritty vocals. Americana. Enjoy.

Do the dishes
With the windows open
Soak the dirt
From under your nails
Pour a double
Put a record on the table
The light’s always perfect
Just before it fails

Bow your head down
When you break bread together
Close your eyes
Make a circle of hands
There is nothing
That cannot be taken from you
In this life
You just hold on
To the love that we have

Swing the ax
In the hours before daylight
Note the sparks
That attend to the blade
A thing made free
Of itself leaps apart
And the heart divided
Would do just the same

Take the backroads
With nobody on them
Find a river
And make yourself clean
Go down to water
If you would be delivered
Of sinner and sin
Seen and unseen

Step outside
Let the stars reel around you
Cup your hands
Around a bright flame
In that darkness
Let the heavens confound you
It’s all just a story
Even the sound of your name

Q: Do you have a song that you are particularly proud of?

A: I don’t. I like some of them better than others. Every record has a few that prove themselves deeply reliable on the road, and over time those become the heart of your work, but you have to write them all to write the good ones. As a rule the simpler ones are better. (Emphasis mine).

~ Jeffrey Foucault, singer/songwriter 

Via: http://www.midwesterngentleman.com/stories/jeffrey-foucault-interview/

Via: jeffreyfoucault.com

   Leave your phone home, go outside every day, and fight the bastard in the oval office at every opportunity. Remember, this isn’t right or normal. This president is in a different category altogether, one beyond politics. He’s everything you were raised not to be: a bully, liar, racist, cad, whiner, and braggart; a moral cipher; an ignorant, incurious man who stands for nothing, is immune to truth and logic, and can’t be accused of holding any principle beyond his own aggrandizement. He’s a demagogue, and he’s dangerous. Do your part.

~ Jeffrey Foucault

Any Town Will Do

If you’re rolling out west with your game face on,
rolling out cigarettes, crying on the phone,
it won’t take much to make you feel gone,
for a night or two, any town will do.

Phoenix to Santa Fe with the radio on,
feels like living in a Neil Young song.
But you won’t feel right ’til you get yourself wrong.
For a night or two, any town will do.

High desert passes, gas station sunglasses.
Your heart like a sunset, wild and free,
and there was always something you were meant to be,
for a night or two, any town will do.

And your life is just a movie in the bar back mirror,
everyone’s a stranger, nothing is clear,
you could make it alright anywhere but here,
for a night or two any town will do.