THE U.SUAL.S.A.

 

Another black man dies

another cop lies

another mother learns

another city burns

 

This is business as usual in the U.S.A.

business as usual in the U.sual.S.A.

 

You say we've come so far

past the whips and the scars

past the chains and the burning tar

from Selma to Ferguson and through the jail bars

 

You say young folk take it slow

have faith in the rule of law today

maybe I'll toss my Molotov underhand

I bet you'd you'd like it that way

 

Boom!  goes the night

Boom!  go the lights

Boom!  goes the fright

Boom!  goes the fight

Boom!  this is tight

 

business as usual...burn it down

business as usual...burn it to the ground

business as usual...burn it down

business as usual...burn it to the ground

 

Hands up!  Don't shoot!

Hands up!  Don't shoot!

Hands up!  Don't shoot!

Hands up!  Don't shoot!

 

I can't breathe...

 

A cold rain coming down

on the spot where they buried Michael Brown

I keep hearing this American sound

another brother when he hits the ground

 

Release date: December 10, 2014

Recorded: December 10, 2014

Producer: Scott M.X. Turner

Engineer: Brian Marshall

Studio: Cobra Studio, Seattle, WA

Staff:  Scott M.X. Turner: guitar, lead vocals, keyboards; Patrick Smail: drums; Ian Hill: bass, backing vocals; Jeff Bazz: guitar, backing vocals

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE GREATEST MACHINE

 

They’re pointing payloads east down Benghazi Road

false prophets to the west to the wilderness where there ain’t no rest

northern lights falling ancestors calling through the storm

my compass points south to the land of souls we mourn

 

Go light your candles, we’ll grip the handles

of the greatest machine this rebellion’s ever seen

go light your candles, we’ll grip tight the handles

of the greatest machine this rebellion’s ever seen…we’ve ever seen

 

We dig our cold hands in the nuclear white sands

marching straight through Hell’s Gate into someone else’s promised land

Alki Andy says “man you’re a real good DJ”

slides me a fiver ‘cross the bar, says “don’t think, just press Play”

 

THE PROPHET CONQUISTADOR

 

Dollars to renminbi ain’t free money, see

this coming war’s no ordinary war

I’ll win it myself I’ll topple the top shelf

ice out of fire, I’m the prophet conquistador

 

Deep in the jungle I’m cookin’ on the front burner

gears turning all the way up the river

buried in the earth ice-cube diamond smooth

more ancient than the soca groove

 

Machete solve everything vines to your bloodstream

chainsaw eating words hiding in your dreams

corrugated metal monster rise above the trees

make humanity freeze I’m the patron saint of zero centigrade

 

I’m a changed man son, I changed the sun, man

I’m a changed man son, I changed the sun, man

I’m a changed man son, I changed the sun, man

I’m a changed man son, I changed the sun, man

 

Man’s job is to finish this world

God’s job is to step the hell aside

I’m the salvation for this American nation

my son says “my daddy is a genius and yours?

yours just believes in God

waits on the world of God

cries holy tears for God

drowns in the flood for God”

 

EPICENTER OUR TOWN

 

I got home at ten o’clock the blue light tube was blinkin’

it said “c’mere boy, this’ll get you thinkin’”

I got a good look at twisted steel buildings gone power down

if they think this is bad they should see our town

we’ve got borders drawn by city lords with blinkers on

their studies show things work fine it’s all held up by lines

I hate this wait I always wait then I blink it’s way too late

they say you work for your once-in-a, we’ll work it out over dinner

 

Every time I go out these crazy people sing shout

blue vultures circle brass eyes no doubt

see a target zero in any reason heroin

crack heads gang wars school wards open sores

the ground is always rockin’ my trigger’s always cockin’

my lungs fill up with dust exploding sewers bust bust

black river rising you’re going down

this is a power surge epicenter our town

 

This here’s the growing list of the things that get people pissed

you look at me you laugh at me you bump me my enemy

your heroes suck they’re forcing me to celebrate some holiday

you move too slow you talk too fast you yak too much about the past

you’ve always goddamn been my boss you never goddamn work for me

you’ve got no soul you’ve got no sense why can’t you be more like me?

 

Eye to eye an empty bus an empty train an empty street

if our eyes meet it’s a mistake and that’s the part I hate

I don’t get it I don’t get it I don’t get it

what else do we gotta put each other through

I see the cause this cancer it’s suspicion cuts my heart away

if that’s what makes you satisfied this one heart dies

 

REALITY UPGRADE

For Curt Flood

 

Paternal the great white way show biz in flannel

Tap dance in spikes Gibson’s nobody’s fool I’m nobody’s slave

Twelve years at the Gateway to the West

’69 war’s strong King’s gone

The telephone rings

 

Curt you’re traded to Philadelphia

Reality downgrade

Kiss my ass Philly Bull Connor on the Schuylkill

Curt you’re traded

Reality downgrade

 

Teachers plumbers commissioners and owners

All get to choose wherever they work

Me? Philadelphia

Or else I choose to loose and Mr. Kuhn

I’m not a piece of property

With my bat speed and Gold Glove

There was never love for your game

In my heart and soul music sports porters

That’s all this land glad-hands to us Negroes

 

Marvin Miller a mostly Moses

This promised land never promised us nothing

‘cept black-ballin’ a Black man

Advocating for reality upgrade

Not one player stood with me

When I grabbed the reserve clause by the throat

Not Rose Bench Mantle Mays

None of them golden boys

In fact none of the boys, period

Thanks for volunteering son

Well I lost but they all won

 

Jackie Robinson white hair

Bill Veeck as in wreck

Hank Greenburg Jewish power

They showed up showing soul

Advocating for reality upgrade

Reality upgrade

Reality upgrade

Reality upgrade

 

Years later a pen stroke freed the slaves

They’re free to play wherever they  choose

Even Philly ain’t that a hoot

But not me, I’m long gone

I’ve run my base paths

My warning track run through Copenhagen

‘fore it run me off this earth

 

Players today sons of slaves

Few take a chance just prance and dance

But if perchance you ask about this Flood

They’re like to say

“Shame…about Hurricane Katrina”

Reality upgrade

From far away

 

SCOUNDREL MAN

 

Ol’ Bill Veeck was a scoundrel man

Back when scoundrel’s eyes just gleamed

Ol’ Bill Veeck was the first and only

Decent man to own a baseball team

 

Bill had a plan he aimed to misbehave

Wasn’t scoreboards going boom or thirty tons a day

Wasn’t the promotions of legend and lore

Or the all-night carousing at Toots Shor’s

 

Wasn’t Eddie Gaedel 1/8 on his back

Or the players wearing shorts or the Go-Go Sox attack

Wasn’t the Martians he sent for Nellie Fox

Or the money schemes keeping him forever in hock

 

Wasn’t Disco Demolition’s infamy

Or the rent-a-player rosters or his soliloquys

it wasn’t the night for Good Ol’ Joe Early

te Twentieth Century’s greatest hurly-burly

 

It was standing up for justice staring down at greed

testifying for Flood so the players could be freed

Champion of the Little Guy says the bronze plaque

that’s why we need ol’ Bill Veeck back

 

It was standing up to the stuff-shirt brigade

pokin’ holes in pretentions and tossing grenades

signing Larry Doby and Satchel Paige

that’s why we need Bill Veeck today

that’s why we need Bill Veeck today

that’s why we need Bill Veeck today

that’s why we need Bill Veeck today

 

JIMMY OF THE ROCKAWAYS

 

I was smarter than anyone in this cold town

I could fix things given up for broken down

a heart that beats is just a thing that breaks

and I couldn’t fix that, I didn’t have what it takes

 

There ain’t no messages in a pretty green bottles

just trash on the beach from livin’ full throttle

for guys like me, it’s never clean,

we’re just gears in a rusty dead machine

I couldn’t jump start my dreams, I couldn’t afford the gasoline

I couldn’t jump start my dreams, I couldn’t afford the gasoline

 

Got a room in a house on a street that ends at the sea

when I went on a tear, the water gods hid from me

I got a job slingin’ hash to make bail

and my rags to riches melt into a dead-end trail

 

They fool you thinking you can change your world

but the deck comes stacked, even with the local girls

bootstraps and barflies, rock-rollers and the barbers

don’t you put a pretty bow on my town and call it Belle Harbor

 

Well now I’m gone and the stars still shine

I could outcoach Billy Martin and outthink Einstein

I tried my best, I thought I had the rest of time

in another’s hands, my plans would work just fine

 

THE WHAT COMES NEXT

 

I got the boot sent down the chuteALL

to the ranks of What Comes Next

so few want ads I look but I don’t see ‘em

so many staring at the What Comes Next

 

I’ll climb a mountain I’ll plow a field

I’ll hop a cargo ship to What Comes Next

the gravel leaves its marks bosses always leaving scars

it’s freezing cold in What Comes Next

 

Sure I’ll eat sure I’ll sleep

‘neath the exit ramp to What Comes Next

I hear there’s work the next town on

could you use some company on the road to What Comes Next?

 

The kids pack their bags, say “Dad you promised

the last move was the last move to What Comes Next”

I tell ‘em “there’re cracks in the clouds give the sun a chance

to warm our hearts and souls in What Comes Next”

 

This is the last time we’ll eat and sleep

‘neath the exit ramp to What Comes Next

I’ve got good word there’s work the next town on

might be someone needs a hand  in What Comes Next

 

I’ll make the rent, hope is our tent

might be someone needs our help in What Comes Next

I don’t have all the answers but I know which way to turn

the three of us in What Comes Next

the What Comes Next

 

All songs written by Scott M.X. Turner

 

“The Greatest Machine,” “The Prophet Conquistador,” “The What Comes Next,” “The Dub Conquistador” © 2013 Scott M.X. Turner.

“Scoundrel Man” © 2010 Scott M.X. Turner. “Epicenter Our Town © 1989 Scott M.X. Turner.

“Jimmy Of The Rockaways” © 2007 Scott M.X. Turner.

“Reality Upgrade” © 2008 Scott M.X. Turner and first appeared in Boog City (http://welcometoboogcity.com/).  All songs BMI

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

STRENGTH IN NUMBERS

 

A Spaldeen lyin’ on the pavement still

speedballs waitin’ on the windowsill

the old candy store is up for rent

the goddamned bank that’s where it went

 

Ruby’s Bar still wears the crown

but Thor’s hammer is a’comin’ down

Freddy’s Bar still holds the cards

but the Fat Rat sets traps and he steals our stars

 

What happened to strength in numbers

when the numbers all run scared?

what happens to strength in numbers

when we can’t be bothered and just don’t care?

what happens to strength in numbers when the numbers all run scared?

what happens to strength in numbers?

well I GOT NEWS…we ain’t runnin’ no more!

 

Kids in school ain’t got no tools

and the soft drink sponsors playin’ them fools

They ain’t allowed to throw a punch

at the mayor who won’t even buy them lunch

Rapper Jay thinks he’s the king

thinks who’s on top means who’s got bling

thinks “jobs hoops housing” is a real thing

well Jay’s been played he’s a sell-out scheme

 

Right wing screams make me puke

liberals offer a slight rebuke

my momma gains comfort from the Book of Luke

but momma…Antioch’s a ways away says the Earl of Duke

 

If we hate these bastards so

why do they rise while we sink low?

if we lead with a left we can nail ‘em in the chest

if we do our part we can nail ‘em in the heart

 

THE FIRST EVER HOOVERVILLE

 

I rise from my cot, the coffee’s hot

poured from a melting pot rusted with rot

I got dragged ‘cross the Great Divide

wherever there’s luck I’m on the other side

 

This was the first ever Hooverville

train yards shanties time stands still

this was the first ever Hooverville

there’ll never be a last-ever, never will

 

Cool spring air in Pioneer Square

the preservation snobs want me out of there

the Haves get scared when I walk on by

they pay Elliot Bay to wash me out with the tide

 

passing laws against lost cause

sayin’ “be a dear, be polite, stay out of sight

keep your bad luck to yourself

go gather dust on a dusty shelf”

 

computer highway don’t come my way

cups of latte don’t make my day

big sliding roof keeps your baseballs dry

but it don’t slide far enough to save me from the black skies

 

Nothing stops it, this empty pocket

I had a life, had to hock it

spend my days makin’ tracks

I’m a lost soul ragged lungs broken back

 

NO MERCY FOR A MAN IN LOVE

 

Ain’t no shadows in the valley of death

but moonlight’s plenty on the trail of life

the dry river beds are easy to cross

the hills and ravines and the rattlesnake bites

 

A hundred miles to the nearest town

blue white and gray in the cold dry night

I am warm of heart and strong on my feet

and darlin’ ain’t you a beautiful sight

 

My old car rumbles with the headlights off

silver mercury spread over the desert roads

dust catches rays from the Sea of Tranquility

there’s no mercy out here for a man in love

 

You’re out there on the Llano Estacado

don’t dare stop, don’t talk with strangers

one drop of oil, a handful of sand

any excuse for the local rangers

 

I pull up at dawn to your adobe shack

where a tornado picked you from all the rest

your linens are torn and all the whiskey’s gone

put me to the fire, put me to the test

 

SHINY SEA

 

I went to old Milwaukee drank up all the beer

drove to Detroit where I stripped out all the gears

up to Akron town just to ride a blimp

walked along Wall Street with the money-hungry simps

 

In one of these towns that’s where you’ll be

that’s why I’m hopping trains from grainy waves to shiny sea

your ruby red lips and the moment when we kiss

walkin’ over mountaintops and through the ocean mist

 

Bit the Big Apple to Bloomy doomy core

terminator California selling off the store

Seattle drinkin’ drip up for thirty nights straight

San Francisco quakin’ from the Castro to the Haight

 

Journeyed to the Second City swam the green river

tread the Redwood Forest and it filled me full of slivers

hitched a ride to Telluride movies and the booty

Norfolk’s battleships full of sailors desperate to recruit me

 

I heard you been from Paris all the way to Beijing

heard you put down roots tryin’ on a shiny ring

heard your betrothal has lost its promised charms

well did you hear about me dreamin’ ‘bout us in each other’s arms?

 

I finally found the town I should’a known you’d be

I’m done hopping trains from grainy waves to shiny sea

your ruby lips I finally got to kiss

I’m  done walkin’ mountaintops and through the ocean mis

 

Unless you wanna walk the mountain tops grainy waves shiny sea

unless you wanna walk the roads with me

come on sugar walk the roads with me

burnin’ hot back roads you and me

let’s go swimin’ in the shiny sea

 

LITTLE IODINE

 

She coulda worn number 53

didn’t care about the chemistry

she topped the Table went one more

Lorretta Behrens wore 54

 

She’s the Little Iodine in a big man’s world

five foot of don’t mess with the girl

she’s the Little Iodine ain’t no shiny pearl

five foot of don’t mess with the girl

 

Electropositive in roller skates

banked tracks across the fifty states

match race lost and a few romances won

jammer get the whip, blocker get the gun

 

She was a Raven

she was a Panther

she was a Red Devil

she was a Bomber

 

Cavallo and Weston

up on the pedestal

Little Iodine from the Bronx

red-head Best of All

Next up, Dewitt Quarles…

 

141

 

I'm gonna read a book, I'm gonna take a look

I’ll know what shake and shook, I'm gonna bait a hook

I'm gonna concentrate, won't let them regulate

gonna integrate conjugate and procreate

 

I'm gonna take my time on the 141

wanna grab wanna crab ‘til I’m good and done

ain’t no little number stoppin’ what I say

c’mon honey, pull the plug on the Super Twitter Highway

 

How come we're so quick to fall for the tricks

that keep us spinning, to steal our kicks

I wanna walk the street with Shoulder Pad Sherry

my fingers walk on her and not goddamn Blackberry

 

We paint ourselves in tiny corners

a country full of little Jack Horners

the pirates at the top have us all figured out

we’ll tweet ‘til all the feeds say

there’s nothing left to think about

scream about

sing about

dream about

 

Dream about. We'll talk about, on the corner

we meet and say "how was your day, mister?"

"how was your night, sister?"

"how was your day?"

 

MOUTH OF THE GALILEE

 

When John the Baptist put Jesus ‘neath the waves

the Jordan River ran so clean

Now the holy waters flow brown and green

 

Something’s gone wrong ‘tween the Dead Sea

and the mouth of the Galilee

 

And why did the Son of God need to be baptized?

it’s just Jacob’s Ladder and a head on a platter

putting aside just how weird this all seems…

 

 We’ve topped Revelations, fulfilled all its dreams

Gabriel’s a jazzman in Miami Beach

the Four Horsemen can’t rock like me

 

Something’s gone wrong out beyond the Dead Sea

and the mouth of the Galilee

 

MINERVA WAVING

 

There’s old Minerva waving

to her French sister in the bay

Couple of gossips with plenty to say

leaning ‘round hipsters in the way

 

I’ve cracked me a few more ribs

I’ve told you a few more fibs

Called it out, I’ve got dibs on

Vicodan for these cracked ribs

 

I hear the harbor bells ring

I hear the train whistles sing

Here on Brooklyn’s highest point

we lost a battle against the king

 

Old man I ain’t you yet

Young fella what don’t you get?

Boss man you treat me bad

Bank-vault mayor, the worst we’ve had

 

The news ‘round here ain’t so good

Lost the deed and lost the ‘hood

I lost my job, I lost my car

We lost old Freddy’s Backroom bar

 

We’re still fighting against a king

We’re still losing everything

We’re still sunburned around that ring

coming in for landing with broken wings

 

JIMMY OF THE ROCKAWAYS

 

I was smarter than anyone in this cold town

I could fix things given up for broken down

A heart that beats is just a thing that breaks

And I couldn’t fix that, didn’t have what it takes

 

There ain’t no messages in pretty green bottles

Just the trash on the beach from livin’ full throttle

For guys like me, it’s never clean

we’re just gears in a rusty dead machine

I couldn’t jump-start my dreams

I couldn’t afford the gasoline

 

I got a room in a house on a street that ends at the sea

When I went on a tear, the water gods hid from m

Got a job slingin’ hash to make bail

My rags to riches burned into a dead-end trail

 

They fool you to thinking you can change the world

But the deck comes stacked, even with the local girls

Bootstraps and barflies, rock-rollers and barbers

Don’t you put a pretty bow on my town and call it Belle Harbor

 

So now I’m gone but the stars still shine

I could outcoach Billy Martin and outthink Einstein

I tried my best, thought I had the rest of time

In another man’s hands, my dreams will work just fine

 

RULE OF THE BONE

 

Red rover red rover, come over come in

Stealing’s just a crime but betrayal of a friend is a sin

I have learned to figure things out. I have learned to make my own soun

The way out of trouble is the way out of this town

 

Rule of the Bone – I’m all alone

Rule of the Bone – I’m all alone

Rule of the Bone – I’m all alone

Where can a kid like me call home?

 

Every honest man every honest women is an outlaw

We shoot rockets into our version of the darkness

I survived on a steady diet of the ital stew

Washed it down with the Zion Juice

 

I stole from the men of the Adirondack Iron

And I got by with a tip from the I-Man Lion

I am the human mirror out on the street

You see in me things you don’t want to believe

My identity’s not dead, it’s only a secret

 

Up in the sky the constellation Lion-I

The dread holy sign of the Open Mind

And Sister Rose, the rejected child

The rest of my life those stars will shine so bright

 

THE RIEGELMANN

 

Let’s walk the boardwalk at the end of the train

We’ll find some treasure ‘fore it’s swept away

The Riegelmann it creaks ‘neath our feet

Soon they’ll sweep us all away

 

I love your hair when it snags the sun

You grip my arms so tight when we take the plunge

I can taste your cotton-candy breath

atop the wooden trestle kissing when we take the plunge

 

You like drinkin’ hard, let’s go to Ruby’s

The lager’s sweet, we’re makin’ movies

Lights all sway when we walk on by

We’ll beg ol’ Poseidon to keep this place alive

 

You pull your skirt down past your knees

to guard against the chill in the Brighton breeze

Cyclone fence it keeps us off the sand

It was our last ever chance to hide in Astroland

 

Neptune’s stars they brush the Stillwell shed

We’re gonna line up on the platform with the walking dead

Hey conductor, can you dim the lights

I’m gonna hold my gal tight on the Culver Line

 

THE FLAMES PUT IN CLAIMS

 

The flames put in claims to change their names to Arson

The flames put in claims to change their names to Austin

The flames put in claims to change their names to Carson

The flames put in claims to change their names to Boston

Arson – approved

Austin – approved

Carson – approved

Boston – Boston is denied

Boston is a conflagration immolation firebug nation awaitin’ decimation

 

GHOSTS

 

The town’s only Christmas lights blink out of beat

on the summer-only fireworks stand on Route 63

A sale on something no one wants at Ally’s Store

where the maps forget they’ve closed the road to Livermore

 

Ghosts don’t get hungry and ghosts don’t get cold

Ghosts don’t get scared and ghosts don’t get old

Ghosts don’t get laid off, ghosts don’t get sold

I guess it’s good I ain’t a ghost

it’s good, or so I’m told

 

Charlie runs his hand through his gray stringy hair

tells the same damned story how he outrun that bear

The football boys are cold huddled ‘neath the stands

doing all they can to end up far from what Daddy says it means to be a man

 

Susy’s wondering how it’d work the best

point it at her temple or straight at her chest

There’s a dog, always barking, pulling at his chain

It hurts his ears and chills his bones out there in the rain

 

The old abandoned bus past McGuire’s Run

where friends time each other cleaning their guns

The bowling alley neon sells nickel frames

but the pins stand unafraid these days, there’s no one taking aim

 

ROBBERY HENRY

 

He cross the line, he stick his hand out

It’s the Robbery Henry

He cross the line, the nation shout

It’s the Robbery Henry

 

Cross channel and a sea with Trappatoni

The French side – dissension with all their cronies

The Irish know it’s the very last chance

UEFA play the faves in the Stade de France

 

He like to dress sharp, he like to play cards

He get away with murder like all the big stars

The men in charge, they look the other way

Gangsters inna Switzerland cheat another day

 

Winners write the history

Stand for rights makes for mystery

Rules enforced selectively

A heist in Paris objectively

 

THIS TIME THE GOOD TIMES

 

Fires in the distance and smoke filling the air

Piles of debris from one more empire on a tear

With every alkaline that dies the radios give way

to silent cries for mercy from the ghosts running down Broadway

 

All them rueful girls and all those hoped-up boys

Guitars in bars in wars with star-crossed lovers making noise

Those days are broken sidewalks cracked with despair

and kids are gone missing and this time they ain’t hiding ‘neath the stairs

 

This time they ain’t joyriding off in pairs

This time these lovers ain’t makin’ love without a care

This time the angels are deaf to their prayers

This time the good times are caught in the cross-hairs

 

I used to wake up shaking from dreams worse than nightmares

began the night my folks shot each other on the stairs

Never knew the difference between cold sweat and tears

that fell when my heart and soul turned into mutineers

 

This time they ain’t joyriding off in pairs

This time these saboteurs ain’t laying wire without a care

This time the angels know better than to listen for their prayers

This time the good times are caught in the cross-hairs

 

We cut through the silence for the night’s last chance

We hum ourselves a tune and we call it a dance

I take you by the hand, lead you to the darkness

surging like a power line in your torn cotton dress

 

This time we ain’t joyriding off in pairs

This time we ain’t promising the stars without a care

This time the angels are busy with their own prayers

This time the good times are caught in the cross-hairs

 

I don’t like who I see in the cross-hairs

 

SAGINAW

 

She sits alone in the kitchen

the radiator broke and hissing

Wondering if he’s warm

if there’s something that he’s missing

 

Close her eyes and she sees

her little Stevie playin’ in the leaves

before he grew so hard

before he collected scars

 

They call it Khanjar, they call it Panther Claw

She calls it “when’s he coming back to Saginaw?”

They call it Kandahar, they call it holy war

She calls it “when’s he coming home to Saginaw?”

 

The 4H, the bad grades

the first car, the cool shade

There ain’t nothing to get him ready

for the fire in the hills

 

She cleans his room every night

she looks for lucky charms and hopeful signs

She knows his pride

is gonna get him killed

 

She sits alone in the kitchen

the radiator broke and hissing

Wondering if she’s warm

if there’s something that she’s missing

 

STEPHEN FOSTER’S DYING DAY

 

He was a beautiful dreamer on the Bowery

Never fit in with the local citizenry

He scratched out songs on wrapping paper

French spirits brown sugar were his barkeep’s favor

 

His Jane ran the railroad telegraph line

Apples and turnips on the table at dinnertime

He’d write you a song for a dollar bill

and make you long for Kentucky’s bluegrass thrills

 

They found his old purse, a few coins inside

A torn scrap inscribed with a longing bromide

At the end, he was drunk and all come apart

Said Foster, “dear friends and gentle hearts”

 

In a dusty barroom at the back of a grocery

down at the corner of Hester and Christie

The American songman burned with the fever and the ague

The rum was the hot sun burning off his morning dew

 

The doctor stitched him up with a stiff black thread

He said “the booze is fine, but only if you want him dead”

“I’m done for,” he spit on the day he died

You’d think Stephen Foster could’ve penned a better last line

 

STRIP ME CLEAN

Straphangers got no straps no more

Moon refuse to brush against my baby’s door

Her brothers left me beat and bloody on the floor

 

These dirty streets will strip me clean

These dirty streets will strip me clean

 

Ban the penny you wipe me out

Leave me try to sell you clouds

of dust and fumes in Diesel Town

 

My ol’ dog run off to the bay

I couldn’t feed him, I sent him away

I hear him howlin’ every day

 

You brought me here with hopes and dreams

Me and all of the other teens

Twenty years since the Last True Scene

I need a new scene

I need a new thing

I need a new queen

kill the old king

 

Ain’t no more kids to save the world

Ain’t no brave boys no strong girls

No hoistin’ rebel flags, just shinin’ pretty pearls

 

These dirty streets have stripped me clean

These dirty streets have stripped my clean

 

BOY I BET YOU’RE WONDERING

 

I passed a man on the street tonight

He had a mouth-harp that he gripped so tight

And then he sang he sang so hard

As he sang

 

Boy I bet you’re wondering all about me

Boy I bet you’re wondering all about me

 

He walked up to a construction site

with its buzzsaw noise and its developers’ might

The roar of progress it cut him and his song down

as he sang

 

They covered him up, they said this one’s gone

I knelt down and I cradled his song

And maybe when you get home you’ll sing it too

and you’ll sing

 

DEVIL DOWN IN THE WATER

 

The water’s rising

The levee pumps are shutting down

Sure we saw this coming around

 

She turned on Gulfport

They say our parish is so blessed

Well all our blessed been washed away by Pontchartrain

 

For thirst and hunger I’m a crook

The governor says she’ll deal with me

says deal ruthlessly

 

I know y’all are worried sick

’bout dear old Bourbon Street

Well ‘scuse me while scrounge up some eats

 

Poor folks here got no car got no cash got no road

All we got was run up on the roof

by the devil down in the water

 

Here come the poison snakes, the deadly tides

the floating crypts/pools of blood/soldier’s guns

Winn-Dixie’s free tonight

and all I got to my name

I shouldered through the flood

 

The oil rigs have broken fast

gone floatin’ past Biloxi

Now Washington finally worries

 

’69 the last time

my aunt and uncle stood Camille

Well are they on their feet tonight?

 

Ninth Ward I saw the law

protect and serve, They cuffed that girl

with a shopping cart full of diapers

 

Everyone knows a killer storm gets born

without a heart

When did that start happening to us?

 

Pitch black night, the cops they hide

How does it feel on the other side?

Megaphone drone “curfew – get back home”

 

Well where might that be?

Where am I free

when the hurricane eye stares straight down on my shattered dreams?

 

FEARLESS ROAD

 

The big rage today

is pretending at getting’ carried away

Some put down anchor

some roll them a drunken banker

 

Layin’ low in the darkness

in a city full of Clark Kents

I swallow all your heartache

when all of our little parts take

 

a walk past the 7 Queens

listen for the drip of the salines

In the time it takes to bake these cakes

we’ll pull up stakes

 

We’re on our way to Austin town on the back routes

This fearless road bench seat and black boots

Kissin’ in the doorway dance in the corner of the Mean Eyed Cat

You and me the tiger and the rat

 

The rat and the tiger dress

168 on the A express

Always out of service

makes them slummin’ tourists nervous

 

Gears grind on the swing shift

past the ghosts on Coogan’s cliff

Once Giants roamed

now it’s towers full of NYCHA homes

 

Bodega men rooster pens

train their sights on Ortega’s friends

Kind words deaf ears midnight fears

babies and oldsters count the years

They’re the only ones

 

Your eyes meet mine Shiner Bock prize

Dusty ranch homes sad gone Astrodome

Two-step mule rep Little Rock Kaiser roll

pinstripe sin bribe tube sock fox hole

 

Rock’n’roll the dust bowl, tear down the Cotton Bowl

TV screen longer than the main drag down town

Rock’n’roll the dust bowl, tear down the Cotton Bowl

TV screen longer than the main drag down town

 

Here I am drownin’ in a squall

Pack my bags, one last phone call

I don’t wake from my dreams

I wake for this dream

You opened my door

make me more awake than ever before

more alive than ever before

more in love than ever before

 

 

All  songs by Scott M.X. Turner except "Rule Of The Bone" by Russell Banks and Scott M.X. Turner

 

“Rule Of The Bone” © 1999 Russell Banks/Scott M.X. Turner

“Devil Down In The Water” © 2005 Scott M.X. Turner

“Jimmy Of The Rockaways,” “Boy, I Bet You’re Wondering,” © 2007 Scott M.X. Turner

“Strength In Numbers” © 2008 Scott M.X. Turner

“No Mercy For A Man In Love,” “Little Iodine,” “Minerva Waving,” “The Riegelmann,” “The Flames Put In Claims,” “Ghosts,” “Robbery Henry,” “This Time The Good Times,” “Saginaw,” “Stephen Foster’s Dying Days,” “Strip Me Clean,” “Fearless Road” ,” © 2009 Scott M.X. Turner

“The First Ever Hooverville,” “Shiny Sea,” “141,” “Mouth Of The Galilee,” © 2010 Scott M.X. Turner

 

 

 

 

 

MADIBA

 

This was a man who was never defeated

who never gave in, who never retreated

we're all born with the fire in our hearts

and the choice to rip these shackles from our souls

 

I was born the year they opened fire in Sharpeville

and I come of age when Soweto's youth were killed

I cried tears of joy when Robben Island became just a bad memory

and I raised my fist on election day

 

Amandla awethu Nelson Mandela

Umkhonto we Sizwe Nelson Mandela

the freedom road will guide you home tonight

Madiba you're in our souls tonight

 

The pata pata and the fever of the toyi-toyi

everyone's dancing tributes cross the world tonight

in the townships and farms, crossroads and city streets

it's just darkhearts stuck in the past hiding from the hope of the free

 

Release date: December 5, 2013

Recorded: December 5, 2013

Producer: Scott M.X. Turner

Engineer: Annie Dihigo

Studio: Duwamish Overlook Recording, Seattle, WA

Staff:  Scott M.X. Turner: guitar, vocals