Well it's 9th and Hennepin
And all the doughnuts have
Names that sound like prostitutes
And the moon's teeth marks are
On the sky like a tarp thrown over all this
And the broken umbrellas like
Dead birds and the steam
Comes out of the grill like
The whole goddamned town is ready to blow.
And the bricks are all scarred with jailhouse tattoos
And everyone is behaving like dogs.
And the horses are coming down Violin Road
And Dutch is dead on his feet
And the rooms all smell like diesel
And you take on the
Dreams of the ones who have slept here.
And I'm lost in the window
I hide on the stairway
I hang in the curtain
I sleep in your hat
And no one brings anything
Small into a bar around here.
They all started out with bad directions
And the girl behind the counter has a tattooed tear,
One for every year he's away she said, such
A crumbling beauty, but there's
Nothing wrong with her that
$100 won't fix, she has that razor sadness
That only gets worse
With the clang and thunder of the
Southern Pacific going by
As the clock ticks out like a dripping faucet
Till you're full of rag water and bitters and blue ruin
And you spill out
Over the side to anyone who'll listen
And I've seen it
All through the yellow windows
Of the evening train.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
41 comments:
Oh terrific stuff, Ramon. Poetry from one of the greatest albums of all time, by one of the world's greatest champions of all time. I want to be just like him when I'm in my 60s.
I could listen to that album until the blood is dripping from the speakers, Bob.
I have done.
I'm a 'Frank's Wild Years' man before 'Rain Dogs', but both albums would make it on to my desert island.
On my band's next album, I wrote a song after listening to a lot of Tom Waits, and when I first presented it to the band I was trying to explain musically how it should be approached and I said, "Not melodically, but structurally and atmospherically, it's a complete rip-off of 'Telephone Call From Istanbul'" and the other seven members of the band looked at me blankly, and I added, "You know, from Frank's Wild Years'" and they shuffled a little, and one said, "Is that a movie?" and another said, "Sinatra?" and somewhere deep inside I cried.
Perhaps you, me and Ramon should form a 'tribute' band that only plays songs from Frank's Wild Years and Rain Dogs, Perseus. Of course, I don't play an instrument and I can't sing. But I'll really mean it.
I'll do the drinking and smoking.
Maybe the whole act is the three of us sitting on a stage drinking and smoking, and listening to the two albums. We could call it an 'installation' and get funding from the Australia Council.
and the other seven members of the band looked at me blankly, and I added, "You know, from Frank's Wild Years'" and they shuffled a little, and one said, "Is that a movie?" and another said, "Sinatra?" and somewhere deep inside I cried.
If you and your band have such differing tastes, why the hell do you play with them?
Or are the endless Cold Chisel covers too dear to let go of?
Maybe the whole act is the three of us sitting on a stage drinking and smoking, and listening to the two albums.
Sounds terrif.
I'll get some talentless hack from the Age's EG to write it up and I'll be beating the groupies off with a stick.
We really should only run our season during the Fringe Festival. It'll blow those flakey minds. Of course, it's a vinyl only affair. And I'm thinking of wearing a trilby. That'll be my thing.
"Hey man, I love what the guy in the trilby's doing."
I'll be the bloke with the sideburns.
Groupie chick;
"Hey, that bloke on the stage looks a bit like Neil Young. I wonder if he'd like to have sex with me?"
WAKE UP!!
Back to real life
Are you implying, Squib, that this plan may not be necessarily achievable?
If so, I bid you good day Madam.
It's no stranger than anything else at Fringe.
And because Ramon and Bob are married, I get to have sex with all the groupies.
Maybe I could hand out Cheerios and tell people they are experimental poems?
If you can get a bundle of dosh out of a grants body to do that, Squib, then I say give it a red-hot go.
We once played at an Irish place. One of our musicians in the band, as a performance enhancement, without telling us, brought along a chopping board and some potatoes. Halfway through a long song, he stopped playing, chopped up some potatoes, and proceeded to throw the slices at the audience, occasionally yelling into the microphone, "What famine? What famine?"
Performance? No! Mentally unhinged. He later attempted to kill the owner of the venue with a microphone stand. We were banned from the venue for life, and we sacked that musician a few weeks later.
He's now a High School music teacher.
Oh... oh... and the same night. There was this Irish couple, boy and girl, and they were talking to us as we setup and they were really nice and said they were looking forward to the show and had heard good things about us. Anyway, not long after the potato throwing incident, I noticed that this polite young couple were in the middle of the dance floor, on hands and knees, pretending to be dogs. They were barking at each other. Then they had a dog fight. After the show, they came to us, both bleeding from the face, and said very politely, "Thank you for that performance, we really enjoyed it."
They were sober!
So tell me that Ramon, Bob and I sitting on stage drinking and smoking listening to Tom Waits while Squib hands out cheerios is abnormal.
You certainly play some interesting gigs, Pers.
I derived from Perseus's story that all Irish are batshit crazy.
And not necessarily in a good way.
My favourite gig of Perseus's was at a pub in Richmond where the audience consisted of NOBODY. Not even me, cos I was controlling the lights and trying to chat up the barmaid.
Cunt! You're always bringing that gig up.
I must defend ourselves, by stating the facts:
1. It was a cold Wednesday night at a non-band pub that nobody went to anyway.
2. We had just started as a band.
3. We had two days' notice - some other band had pulled out (smartly).
4. We were only the support act for the main band, which was that Gumby bloke who used to date Sophie Lee and was 'launching' his new band.
5. As such, it was his responsibility to create an audience - he did all the PR - and it was his fault there was nobody there, not ours (we didn't even tell people we were playing).
6. Gumby made us go on after his band, because he realised only 6 people had turned up, and they were his family. He wanted to go home, and so put his band on in our slot, so we were forced to come on in his slot, and play to nobody.
7. You left out the best bit - Lewd Bob was doing our lights, and because there was nobody there, he ran on stage and sang backing vocals instead.
I remember reviewing some comedy reveue thingo for some rag I was writing for and I was the sole audience member.
And they were shit.
Comedy Guy 1: Gee that review was shit!
Comedy Guy 2: I wonder who wrote it.
What made it worse is that everytime they did something "funny", they'd turn around and look at me.
Fuck, they were awful.
What if I had never heard of Tom Waits until now?
How bad is that?
Sorry.
It is very, very bad, or nigh on impossible. One of the two.
I'm pretty crap with names. One of the reasons I never went into politics. I hear stuff and remember it mostly, despite years of recreational drug abuse.
I'm still sorry though.
Wari, I like to think the role of TSFKA is to educate as well as disgust.
Ramon, you're a public servant and it is Friday afternoon. Shouldn't you be legless in some pub right now?
If it's any consolation Wari, I often have trouble remembering whether Sydney is above or below Melbourne
I even have a talking globe
Squib, if I was stupid, and enjoyed attracting abuse and causing anger, I could suggest that women often have problems with directions and maps. However, I'm simply not that stupid. Plus I know Desci's watching.
And Wari, you're right to be sorry. But it's not too late. Go out and buy Rain Dogs. Does anyone go out and buy CDs anymore?
I do
But it seems harder to get them? I had 2 on order in January and my record store couldn't get them
I'm getting pissed in the office, Pers.
So nyerr.
1. GumPy, Perseus.
2. Ramon, you have to stop mentioning your Neil Young sideburns. No seriously. He was an absolute spunk in his heyday, and it was all because of those sideburns... You talk about them at every opportunity. I LOVE Neil Young sideburns. LOVE. So you are just being a tease, in my opinion.
Actually I'm putting Neil Young sideburns on the bloke in my story. That's it.
Happy weekend all.
PS Weather, wari?
I don't know, Bob. I'd tend to agree with that statement. I'm shit with maps, can't tell where north is, and have problems even with left and right. And I have no spacial or distance abilities. Go 100m ahead, you say? I'm liable to go 50 or 200 and not be able to tell the difference. It's been a bitch on this trip. I've been lost I don't know how many times, and I keep having to get my partner to call me from home to help me (expensive!).
But of course, that may not have anything to do with the fact I'm female, and might just be because I'm stupid.
Oh wait! Ramon, you say you look like Neil Young?? All this time I've been imagining you as Neil from the Young Ones.
And I was picturing Neil Sedaka...when he was young.
Wari, I like to think the role of TSFKA is to educate as well as disgust.
Well I'm disgustingly educated.
Just not a muso, not even slightly. Sorry again. I keep playing Hot August Night in my car over and over. It's an Oedipus thing, my mother played it endlessly.
And Melba, the school picnic got rained out on Thursday night! For shame! It hasn't rained since. You'll be surprised to know it's 30 degrees today.
I googled Oedipus, just to make sure I'd spelt it correctly. But then came across the best word ever.
unbeknownst
There was a groovy word moment happening a few days ago, I wish I'd had it then.
But alas, it was unbeknownst to me at the time.
Post a Comment