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The Customer

Motivating Musicians- Who's yours?

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9 hours ago, The Customer said:

Whenever I'm in an ethical quandary, I think to myself, "What would Tom Waits do?"

Try and learn to sing in tune?

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29 minutes ago, The Customer said:

You're kidding me, right?

20 yrs ago all the cool kid Vedder wannabes wanted to cite Waits as some great influence but he 'sings' like a drunk that's swallowed a bucket of pebbles and his last shit was an angry hedgehog with herpes.

I never understood the hype around that flake.

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36 minutes ago, FatPom said:

20 yrs ago all the cool kid Vedder wannabes wanted to cite Waits as some great influence but he 'sings' like a drunk that's swallowed a bucket of pebbles and his last shit was an angry hedgehog with herpes.

I never understood the hype around that flake.

Lol I had no idea who this Tom Waits guy was so googled him and can confirm that he does "'sings' like a drunk that's swallowed a bucket of pebbles and his last shit was an angry hedgehog with herpes." 😂

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9 hours ago, FatPom said:

20 yrs ago all the cool kid Vedder wannabes wanted to cite Waits as some great influence but he 'sings' like a drunk that's swallowed a bucket of pebbles and his last shit was an angry hedgehog with herpes.

I never understood the hype around that flake.

He used to be a drunk, but not any more. I rate Waits and Dylan as the only two serious musicians out of America in the last 60 years. Best singer / songwriters followed by daylight. Waits could sing a phone-book and it would be enthralling.

 

Point in case...

 

(let me know which part is out of tune - I'm at a loss to work it out)

Edited by The Customer
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Cash was in awe of Dylan. You could say Cash was motivated by Dylan (to bring this back on topic). 🙂

Cash sang many Dylan songs, see below

 

 

Edited by The Customer

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12 hours ago, FatPom said:

20 yrs ago all the cool kid Vedder wannabes wanted to cite Waits as some great influence but he 'sings' like a drunk that's swallowed a bucket of pebbles and his last shit was an angry hedgehog with herpes.

I never understood the hype around that flake.

Best music appraisal I've heard this week. 

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9 minutes ago, The Customer said:

School us on what you deem to be good taste in music, Greyman

He's a Belieber :lol1:

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31 minutes ago, The Customer said:

School us on what you deem to be good taste in music, Greyman

I've got some Simon & Garfunkel on in the background at the moment.

Sounds good to me. :)

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16 minutes ago, Ex-Hasbeen said:

I've got some Simon & Garfunkel on in the background at the moment.

Sounds good to me. :)

Check out a couple of Simon & Garfunkel covers (eg the boxer and me and Julio) by Me First and the Gimme Gimmes

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Me and Julio is the best song to have come on when doing intervals on the indoor trainer to get you through a tough one.  Crank the volume and raise the cadence.

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16 hours ago, trilobite said:

Check out a couple of Simon & Garfunkel covers (eg the boxer and me and Julio) by Me First and the Gimme Gimmes

Simon and Garfunkel never sounded so good as this:

 

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21 hours ago, The Customer said:

 I rate Waits and Dylan as the only two serious musicians out of America in the last 60 years. Best singer / songwriters followed by daylight. Waits could sing a phone-book and it would be enthralling.

It was appaling when Dylan won the Nobel Prize for Literature a couple of years ago.

So clearly should have been presented to Tom. :w00t2:

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Even though you're taking the p155 Dylan would have to be the most prolific, influential poet of the 20th. It's staggering that he wrote these words when he was just 20 years old:

How many roads must a man walk down before you call him a man?
 
Without Dylan's influence, the Beatles' Revolver wouldn't exist, nor anything they produced from that period. Harrison wrote Taxman after meeting Dylan - the Beatles' first protest song. Dylan was also the father of Rap. Is this Dylan or Eminem?:
 
Well, my telephone rang it would not stop
It’s President Kennedy callin’ me up
He said, “My friend, Bob, what do we need to make the country grow?”
I said, “My friend, John, Brigitte Bardot
Anita Ekberg
Sophia Loren
 
OR this
 
Johnny’s in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I’m on the pavement
Thinking about the government
 
Waits is not the revolutionary that Dylan was. Waits for me is an artist and uses music and his voice as an artform. Brillant performance in Buster Scruggs BTW. So many great Waits lyrics. Impossible to pick through his vast collection of poetry:
 
What does it matter
A dream of love, or a dream of lies?
We're all gonna be in the same place when we die
Your spirit don't leave knowing
Your face or your name
The wind through your bones as all that remains
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19 minutes ago, The Customer said:

What does it matter

 

A dream of love, or a dream of lies?
We're all gonna be in the same place when we die
Your spirit don't leave knowing
Your face or your name
The wind through your bones as all that remains

Bone Machine was the album that sucked me into Waits' bizarre world.

Lyrically dense and thought provoking, musically raw and idiosyncratic. I still return to it often.

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Even though this thread's gone on a bit of a tangent (nothing new about that) it does highlight the fact that musicians and music is one of the best motivators...

There's lots of music that motivates me, and some of it I really can't explain why.

Cold Play - Fix You

Maybe it's because I'm broken! :shy:

Edited by Go Easy

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Coldplay always motivates me as well - it's different everytime - sometimes it motivates me to change the station, other times it motivates me to leave the room...

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Haha, like I said I can't really explain it!  :lol:

But I've had worse... much, much worse.

Yet somehow I still find it motivational.

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Look into some of the links between music and patients with dementia, there is a very strong link between music and our psyche.  I don't use the ipod for training or running since changing to trail running, but a good beat would definitely move you on at the right time 

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2 hours ago, Paul Every said:

Bone Machine was the album that sucked me into Waits' bizarre world.

Lyrically dense and thought provoking, musically raw and idiosyncratic. I still return to it often.

It was Blue Valentine for me. A very 'complete' album and masterful. Easy to listen to as far as some of the other Waits works go. There are more interesting Waits songs but Blue Valentine is a good place to start to learn to appreciate the man. Small Change is also incredible. If you want to creep yourself out, listen to Waits on 'What's he building in there'.

 

One of the most amazing musical experiences I've listened to is this piece by Gavin Bryars. Briars used to walk the streets recording interesting sounds and people when he came across a homeless man singing "Jesus' blood never failed me yet" over and over in perfect tune. He looped the singing and added orchestral music to create a 1hr 15min masterpiece. He went back to find the homeless man but he had passed away.

Soon after minute 53 he added the voice of Tom Waits to represent the angel. It's very moving when you know the story behind it.

 

 

Edited by The Customer

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On 17/01/2019 at 7:30 PM, The Customer said:

He used to be a drunk, but not any more. I rate Waits and Dylan as the only two serious musicians out of America in the last 60 years. Best singer / songwriters followed by daylight. Waits could sing a phone-book and it would be enthralling.

 

Point in case...

 

I saw Dylan at the Enmore in Sydney about six months ago. Blew me away, just stood in awe.

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Really? You must be a die-hard fan as his live shows are WAY past their prime since about 10 years ago LOL

This is very funny. Rich Hall is big fan by the way.

 

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10 minutes ago, The Customer said:

Really? You must be a die-hard fan as his live shows are WAY past their prime since about 10 years ago LOL

This is very funny. Rich Hall is big fan by the way.

I loved it and the Enmore is a very small venue.  Him n his band just walked out and played the show, said nothing, done.   I went with my sister, walked out of the venue, jagged a cab on enmore rd, get in the cab, and my sister just goes, that was shit. Iol.

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1 hour ago, Oompa Loompa said:

I saw Dylan at the Enmore in Sydney about six months ago. Blew me away, just stood in awe.

You're lucky. I saw him years ago at Boondall and all 3 support acts outplayed him. I love Dylan, but that show was pathetic.

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3 hours ago, Oompa Loompa said:

I saw Dylan at the Enmore in Sydney about six months ago. Blew me away, just stood in awe.

Me First and the Gimme Gimmes also do Bob Dylan:

 

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On 17/01/2019 at 8:50 AM, FatPom said:

20 yrs ago all the cool kid Vedder wannabes wanted to cite Waits as some great influence but he 'sings' like a drunk that's swallowed a bucket of pebbles and his last shit was an angry hedgehog with herpes.

I never understood the hype around that flake.

you really shouldn't hold back FP. 

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For those struggling with the concept of Tom Waits, Martha is a lovely song which sounds a little easier on the ears. It's from 1973 but sounds more contemporary than that:

 

 

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On 17/01/2019 at 7:30 PM, The Customer said:

I rate Waits and Dylan as the only two serious musicians out of America in the last 60 years. Best singer / songwriters followed by daylight. Waits could sing a phone-book and it would be enthralling.

Only two serious musicians out of America in the last 60 years? 

What's your definition of a musician? 

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Well, there are entertainers and then there are artists. Artists are not necessarily the best entertainers unless the audience has an appreciation for what the artist does. I rate Dylan and Waits as artists. I think Dylan's writing is in a league of his own and I consider him to be a genius poet. I think he did more to change the face of music and the politics of the World than any other musician in the 20th C. Tom Waits is in his own Universe and is a profound observer of American culture - he is influenced by nobody. Totally his own person. Those who've told me they have seen Waits live say he is wildly entertaining and creative in his presentation.

Edited by The Customer

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12 hours ago, The Customer said:

Well, there are entertainers and then there are artists. Artists are not necessarily the best entertainers unless the audience has an appreciation for what the artist does. I rate Dylan and Waits as artists. I think Dylan's writing is in a league of his own and I consider him to be a genius poet. I think he did more to change the face of music and the politics of the World than any other musician in the 20th C. Tom Waits is in his own Universe and is a profound observer of American culture - he is influenced by nobody. Totally his own person. Those who've told me they have seen Waits live say he is wildly entertaining and creative in his presentation.

Was Hendrix a serious musician?

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you know that All Along the Watchtower was written by Dylan, right? 😜

It's about Jehovah's Witnesses.

Edited by The Customer

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On 17/01/2019 at 7:30 PM, The Customer said:

He used to be a drunk, but not any more. I rate Waits and Dylan as the only two serious musicians out of America in the last 60 years. Best singer / songwriters followed by daylight. Waits could sing a phone-book and it would be enthralling.

 

Point in case...

 

(let me know which part is out of tune - I'm at a loss to work it out)

Kris Kristofferson is alright songwriter

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Bob Dylan was asked to write 25 words on Woody Guthrie. He came up with this at age of 22...

 

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race
No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up
If the wine don't come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'
And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
And to yourself you sometimes say
"I never knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they tell me the day I was born"
And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'
And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it lays on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been hurt
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
And all the time you were holdin' three queens
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
Like in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball machine
And there's something on yer mind you want to be saying
That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just can't say it
And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself just what am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In this air I'm inhaling
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
Why am I walking, where am I running
What am I saying, what am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'
In the words that I'm thinkin'
In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I breaking
What am I giving, what am I taking
But you try with your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer heart pound
But then again you know why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that it's something special you're needin'
And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding
And you need something special
Yeah, you need something special all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
That's been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't laugh at yer looks
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
You need something to open up a new door
To show you something you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or more
You need something to open your eyes
You need something to make it known
That it's you and no one else that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how many
Times you might get kicked
You need something special all right
You need something special to give you hope
But hope's just a word
That maybe you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve
But that's what you need man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you know it too good
"Cause you look an' you start getting the chills
"Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill
And it ain't on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks it's funny
No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell you're bound to tell
That no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's blouse
And you can't find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can't even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No you'll not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache´
And inside it the people made of molasses
That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
My friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant
And make all rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think they're foolin' you
The ones who jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of money and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like that
Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel
Good God Almighty
THAT STUFF AIN'T REAL"
No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race
You can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face
You gotta look some other place
And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'
Where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'
Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
Where do you look for this candle that's glowin'
Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
And out there somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and twist
And turn two kinds of doorknobs
You can either go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
You'll find God in the church of your choice
You'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital
And though it's only my opinion
I may be right or wrong
You'll find them both
In the Grand Canyon
At sundown

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3 minutes ago, The Customer said:

Bob Dylan was asked to write 25 words on Woody Guthrie. He came up with this at age of 22...

 

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race
No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up
If the wine don't come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'
And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
And to yourself you sometimes say
"I never knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they tell me the day I was born"
And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'
And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it lays on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been hurt
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
And all the time you were holdin' three queens
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
Like in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball machine
And there's something on yer mind you want to be saying
That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just can't say it
And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself just what am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In this air I'm inhaling
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
Why am I walking, where am I running
What am I saying, what am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'
In the words that I'm thinkin'
In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I breaking
What am I giving, what am I taking
But you try with your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer heart pound
But then again you know why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that it's something special you're needin'
And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding
And you need something special
Yeah, you need something special all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
That's been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't laugh at yer looks
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
You need something to open up a new door
To show you something you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or more
You need something to open your eyes
You need something to make it known
That it's you and no one else that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how many
Times you might get kicked
You need something special all right
You need something special to give you hope
But hope's just a word
That maybe you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve
But that's what you need man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you know it too good
"Cause you look an' you start getting the chills
"Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill
And it ain't on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks it's funny
No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell you're bound to tell
That no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's blouse
And you can't find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can't even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No you'll not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache´
And inside it the people made of molasses
That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
My friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant
And make all rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think they're foolin' you
The ones who jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of money and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like that
Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel
Good God Almighty
THAT STUFF AIN'T REAL"
No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race
You can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face
You gotta look some other place
And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'
Where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'
Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
Where do you look for this candle that's glowin'
Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
And out there somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and twist
And turn two kinds of doorknobs
You can either go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
You'll find God in the church of your choice
You'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital
And though it's only my opinion
I may be right or wrong
You'll find them both
In the Grand Canyon
At sundown

Glad he didn't decide to become a maths teacher..

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Dave Grohl .... End of discussion. How you can you not get motivated with the Foos blaring? 

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11 hours ago, The Customer said:

you know that All Along the Watchtower was written by Dylan, right? 😜

It's about Jehovah's 

How about Fran Zappa? Serious musician?

Edited by Nick777

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On 16/01/2019 at 9:35 AM, The Customer said:

Whenever I'm in an ethical quandary, I think to myself, "What would Tom Waits do?"

I've heard of Tom Waits, but never ever listened to a single thing of his until now.

I sort of get it, don't find his 'music' motivating, more thought provoking & depressing, the sort of stuff mid-aged blokes might listen to when on a downer & thinking "at least someone else can see the irony in all this shit". 

I wonder if Tom liked American Beauty?

Softy - Way Out West sort of grows on you doesn't it, it's a good piss-take.

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On 17/01/2019 at 7:30 PM, The Customer said:

He used to be a drunk, but not any more. I rate Waits and Dylan as the only two serious musicians out of America in the last 60 years. Best singer / songwriters followed by daylight. Waits could sing a phone-book and it would be enthralling.

 

Point in case...

 

(let me know which part is out of tune - I'm at a loss to work it out)

Bruce Springsteen wrote a lot of songs, some poppy some serious

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On 21/01/2019 at 9:42 PM, The Customer said:

Well, there are entertainers and then there are artists. Artists are not necessarily the best entertainers unless the audience has an appreciation for what the artist does. I rate Dylan and Waits as artists.

I would have to put Simon & Garfunkel (based on Paul Simon's writing) in the artist category. They wrote a lot of "popsy" type folk tunes, but most of their biggest hits are true poetry.

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