Get all 8 Bill Davie releases available on Bandcamp and save 20%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Night Sky, Raise Your Heart/Bill Davie LIVE, The Water Dance, Lifelike, Gravity, Phobia Robes, Write At The Light, and The Lunatic Cafe.
1. |
Intro. by Chris Lunn
00:56
|
|||
2. |
How It Must Begin
03:15
|
|||
|
HOW IT MUST BEGIN
© Bill Davie
Breaking silences and raising up the shades.
Love's begun to float, but it doesn't drift away.
Letting the ego slip and letting the slip show.
What magic tears it open, you can never know.
But you're grateful
for the energy, the constancy, the healing course.
To the one-in-three, the trinity, or just nature's sudden force,
you're grateful.
Talking to yourself is how it must begin.
Until the shell is cracked, there's no light coming in.
And when the rooms are lit there's pictures on the walls.
They speak a million tales, but they don't tell it all.
So you're grateful
for the pen in hand, the music stand, the swollen page.
For the graying strands, the grains of sand, the sight that comes
with age,
You're grateful.
And I know why you come here
again and again and again.
It's to outrun your one fear,
and the voice that's shouting, "Silence," in your ear,
cannot find you here.
Breaking silences and raising up the shades,
love's begun to float, but it doesn't drift away.
|
||||
3. |
The Mud Song
02:19
|
|||
|
THE MUD SONG
© Bill Davie
Fetch me a bucket of mud, Maggie,
fetch me a bucket of mud.
We're gonna build a mud house four feet tall,
so we can walk around without feeling small.
It'll have a mud front porch, a mud patio,
even mud toilet seats in case you gotta go.
I'll also have hot and cold running mud, so,
fetch me a bucket of mud.
Fetch me a bucket of mud, Maggie,
fetch me a bucket of mud.
We're gonna build a mud variety store
with different mud departments on every floor.
With mud elevators, mud escalators, a muddy cafeteria with
mud-caked waiters
serving muddy coffee from muddy percolators,
fetch me a bucket of mud.
Fetch me a bucket of mud, Maggie,
fetch me a bucket of mud.
We're gonna build a mud-powered automobile
with mud-filled crash dummies sitting a the wheel.
We'll take it out and test it on muddy mountain roads
with mud-covered land mines waiting to explode.
With a sexy advertisement we can turn mud into gold,
fetch me a bucket of mud.
Fetch me a bucket of mud, Maggie,
fetch me a bucket of mud.
We're gonna manufacture a mud politician
with mud-puppy eyes and a muddy sense of mission.
He'll muddy up the House floor, muddy up the Senate,
muddy up the meaning of the Mud Committee minutes.
He'll set new foreign imported mud limits,
fetch me a bucket of mud.
|
||||
4. |
The Fortune Teller
03:08
|
|||
|
THE FORTUNE TELLER
© Bill Davie
Saw a gypsy fortune teller and asked about our love.
She said, "Complexity breeds with intrigue. Best seek guidance
from above."
She looked into my eyes just then and must have seen a
wounded child.
Would God be listening while I'm still so sinfully wild?
Saw a gypsy fortune teller and asked about you and me.
She said, "Compatibility is more than letting each other be."
She looked into my eyes again and then she looked away.
She was so damn mysterious I almost forgot to pay.
Heaven, you're so far away my friend.
Heaven, will I make it to the end?
And heaven, oh heaven, baby, I can't pretend
your rules to never bend.
Saw a gypsy fortune teller and asked about the two of us.
She said, "You're gonna mess up, you're gonna fall down just like
the rest of us.
Well, I could whisper secret secrets and be your guiding light,
but that won't make one bit of difference until
you luck-out right.
You gotta luck-out right."
|
||||
5. |
Civil Disobedience
02:48
|
|||
|
CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE
© Bill Davie
Ralph is in the sanctuary polishing brass.
Jesus at the window, he's captured in glass.
I'm lacing up my sneakers, packing up my things,
gotta hit the road before the doorbell rings.
God loves civil disobedience.
God lends a helping hand.
He's there at my ear when the time comes to take a stand.
He says, "Oy, what a crazy land!"
Well, I tried to write my Senator, tried to write the press,
but no one seems to listen until you make a mess.
I contemplated terrorism, threw that away.
i don't wanna hurt nobody now, I just want my say!
God loves civil disobedience.
God had some trouble too.
He's there at my ear when I can't think of nothing to do,
He says, "Boy, I got a job for you!"
It's a burning bush, it's a burning tree.
Ralph is standing there and he's looking at me.
He says, "I'll write it down if you'll take it to town.
We got a mission! We got permission!
Well, I never burned a building, I don't sink ships.
I got a can of spray paint and a good set of lips.
I shout from the rooftops, paint on them too,
so when the bombers fly over, they know who to screw!
God loves civil disobedience.
God lends a helping hand.
He's there at my ear when the time comes to take a stand.
He says, "Oy, what a crazy land you got here.
You call it Americay? Hey!"
God loves civil disobedience.
God had some trouble too.
He's there at my ear when I can't think of nothing to do,
He says, "Boy, I got a job for you!"
God loves civil disobedience.
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
THE BALLAD OF GALLOPING GERTIE
© 1968 by James A. Moore assigned to Future Music Corp. 1973
Well, did you ever hear the story 'bout The Narrows Bridge?
I'll try to tell you if I can.
It was built in Tacoma of Washington to realize a dream of man.
A dream that meant they could twist some steel
between two shores of sand.
And out of all the bridges in the Great Northwest,
it would be the greatest span.
And then the wind came, a storm brewed,
and blew that bridge around,
and when the mighty time came for its test of strength
it plunged into the Puget Sound.
Now on the stormy day when the bridge took its dive
it was more than anyone could believe.
'Cause they thought that bridge was constructed to last
and its fate they could never conceive.
'Cause it was built by the men who raised The Golden Gate
and they bragged about their second try.
But when the wind whipped the girders of Gertie she swayed
'til she rippled like a flag in the sky.
And then the wind came, storm brewed,
and blew that bridge around,
and when the mighty time came for its test of strength
it plunged into the Puget Sound.
Now, the secret of the fall of this beautiful bridge
is the secret of the fall of mankind.
If it's built to look good, but it's feeble inside,
a future full of trouble you find.
And like the story in the Bible where the man builds a house
on the sand, and it washes away.
Well, the wise man builds his house of a rock
and it lives to see another day.
'Cause when the wind comes, the storm brews,
and blows that man around,
he will welcome that mighty test of strength
'cause he built on solid ground.
Yes, the wind came, storm brewed,
and blew that bridge around,
and when the mighty time came for its test of strength
it plunged into the Puget Sound.
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
HARD QUESTIONS
© Bill Davie
I had to think of all the hard questions today.
The circus was in town, and it took me back.
I remembered that metal structure,
the one the city put up in the street outside my work
with night to hide them.
In the street outside my work with night to hide them.
What were they building in there,
in the middle of the street?
What were they dumping in there,
so very discreet?
I got an imagination like a nightmare movie.
I can cancel whole cities with a glance at the sky.
Then theres that Rag-Picker who mumbles on the corner
with apocalyptic warnings that fall from his eyes.
With apocalyptic warnings that fall from his eyes.
He says, "Seeping poisons from the cracks in the sidewalks and walls!
Seeping poisons from the cracks in the sidewalks and walls!"
There are streets with good reason, and buildings aplenty.
Each with plenty of secret hiding space.
Solid structure to the business-brown pedestrians
who know all the smart moves, like how to stay in their place.
Yes, we know all the smart moves, like how to stay in our place.
"Seeping poisons from the cracks in the sidewalks and walls!
Seeping poisons from the cracks in the sidewalks and walls!"
I had to think of all the hard questions today.
|
||||
8. |
Honeymoon Boogie
02:38
|
|||
|
HONEYMOON BOOGIE
© Bill Davie
We're in love, it's true,
and you oughta let it happen to you,
and there's no need to search for the front of the church
when it's a permanent rendezvous.
We're in love, holy cow,
and there we were taking the vow.
'Cause she had to walk and we both had to talk,
I'm surprised that we remembered how!
But since that day we've been riding on an even keel.
And if we had to pick one word to tell you how we feel,
it would be, "Surreal."
We're in love. It's a glow,
and we're so glad to let it show.
And it won't go dim as the years grow thin,
we're gonna polish it up as we go.
We're in love. It's a race.
And you'll be drinking Gatorade® by the case,
so just grab your shoes, get ready to cruise,
we'll be out front setting the pace.
We're in love. It's a knack.
And it'll hit you like a heart attack,
and it might slip away for a week or a day,
but you know you're gonna get it back.
And since that day we've been riding on an even keel.
And if we had to pick one word to tell you how we feel,
it would be, "Surreal."
We're in love, and we're sure.
Although we don't feel very mature.
And like a little kid with a cookie jar lid,
take a bite so delightfully pure.
Take a bite so delightfully pure.
We're in love. It's a glow,
and we're so proud to let it show.
And it won't go dim as the years grow thin,
we're gonna polish it up as we go.
We're gonna polish it up as we go.
|
||||
9. |
Mornings
03:44
|
|||
|
MORNINGS
© Bill Davie
Maybe I'll never be what I want to be.
Maybe this boy's American Dream isn't all it's cracked up to be.
But sitting here talking to you isn't wasting my time.
And maybe the art's in the living, and not in all these
pictures and rhymes.
See the cat, she's rolling around on the furniture.
You tell me I should write a song just for her.
And the water's boiling for the coffee to brew.
The ring on your finger flashes as I hand it to you.
Through the window, clouds obscure all the building tops,
while we're in here laughing over this little room we've got.
It's like all your beauty's in focus at this time of day,
with just the first fingers of sunlight beginning to play.
I feel myself sink in the chair, and I don't know what to say.
|
||||
10. |
Chicken Gumbo
02:36
|
|||
|
CHICKEN GUMBO
© Bill Davie
Close the doors tight, insulate those windows right.
Let me say, I don't get out much anymore.
I stay inside and wait for the Hell to break.
What kind of crazy things wait outside my door?
I got my lead screens, I got survival dreams,
and lots of hope for the future of our nation.
I got my canned food, I got my ears glued
to the Civil Defense monitoring stations.
My friends all tell me that I'm pessimistic,
but I prefer to think of myself as realistic.
When "The Big One" comes and the earth begins to rumble,
I'll be happy underground, eating chicken gumbo.
Chicken gumbo.
late at night or early morning, we won't get too much warning
before the country is a glowing orange fountain.
But some of us won't wait, we'll make our planned escape.
Me and Ronny, we'll be safe inside our mountain.
My friends all tell me that I'm pessimistic,
but I prefer to think of myself as realistic.
When "The Big One" comes and the earth begins to rumble,
I'll be happy underground, eating chicken gumbo.
Chicken gumbo. Chicken gumbo.
|
||||
11. |
||||
|
WHO'S THAT GIRL?
© Bill Davie
Who's that girl in the window?
Who's that girl on the walk?
Who's that girl with the tomboy eyes,
y'know she makes it so hard to talk.
But the coach in the back of my head says,
"You're taking her home. You're taking her home."
Who's that girl on the curbstone?
Who's that girl in the church?
Who's that girl, got the big black book
y'know she's gonna leave me in the lurch.
But the hero in the back of my head says,
"You're taking her home. You're taking her home.
You're taking her home. You're taking her home."
Who's that girl in the photo?
Who's that girl on the brush?
Who's that girl 'neath the sculptor's hands?
When I think of her I'm tempted to blush.
But Mister Macho in back of my head said,
"You're taking her home, kid. You're taking her home.
Around your little finger, you're taking her home.
You're taking her . . . "
Who's that girl on the runway?
Who's that girl on the plane?
Who's that girl gonna fly away
leave me standing here in the rain?
And the pain in the back of my brain says
to follow her home. I'll follow her home.
Around her little finger, I'll follow her home.
I'll follow her home.
And the man at the ticket booth said,
"Hey. I'd follow her home."
|
||||
12. |
||||
|
THE MAN IN THE DEAD MACHINE
© Bill Davie
I should have seen you sitting next to me.
You been there all week though, transparently.
I felt disaster, it was walking in my blood,
tearing through my houses like a raging flood.
When I saw your face, there was no doubt.
You were checking me, instead of pulling me out.
I heard the tires scream, I felt the metal bend.
I was saying to myself, "Oh what a sad, sad, end," when,
A crooked grin, a broken stop sign.
My whole life you been hanging onto my time.
Your wide eyes, your big surprise
scattering my spine like a bag of frozen french fries.
Then all those sailors floating on a silver sea
rose out of the pavement and they waved to me.
And all those angels from those Biblical books
they were boxing my ears while I was digging their looks.
I'm not certain which way we spun,
I was pinned against the ceiling with my mind unstrung.
I felt the hourglass skim me on the side
with the sands of life whispering, "No more ride, Clyde!"
A crooked grin, a broken stop sign.
My whole life you been hanging onto my time.
Your wide eyes, your big surprise
scattering my spine like a bag of frozen french fries.
Maybe some Christmas I will see you again,
but maybe I won't care to believe by then.
My father told me that love never ends,
but if the house gets broken, what good is it then?
A crooked grin, a broken stop sign.
My whole life you been hanging onto my time.
Your wide eyes, your big surprise
scattering my spine like a bag of frozen french fries.
|
||||
13. |
||||
|
THE MEAT OF A DREAM
© Bill Davie
I see the cloud of a turbulent day,
I see a dark figure turning away.
I see the water that yields to a stone,
I see with eyes that have seen to your bones.
And I see the ashes that fall to a tray,
I watch the hairs that have fallen to gray.
I hold the image of art in my mind,
I see the years that have fallen behind
and maybe it's over.
Maybe it's all been the meat of a dream.
Maybe it's over.
Maybe my hands cannot claim what I've seen.
I see a red door that beckons me in.
I see a tablet that calls me to win.
I see the keys where I've walked into rhyme,
I see a spark, but only part of the time.
And I see a bridge between islands of sky.
I see the woman who asks me to try.
I watch the winter that's grown on my skin.
I watch the light going yellow and thin
and maybe it's over.
Maybe it's all been the meat of a dream.
Maybe it's over.
Maybe my hands cannot claim what I've seen.
I see a power that's lofty and whole.
I watch as uncertainty clings to my soul.
Maybe I'll see all my images through,
maybe I'll come again, broken, to you
and maybe it's over.
Maybe it's all been the meat of a dream.
Maybe it's over.
Maybe my hands cannot claim what I've seen.
Maybe it's over.
Maybe it's all been the meat of a dream.
Maybe it's over.
Maybe my hands cannot claim what I've seen.
Maybe it's over.
Maybe it's all been the meat of a dream.
Maybe it's over.
Maybe my hands cannot claim what I've seen.
|
||||
14. |
||||
|
A LITTLE DRINKIN'
© Bill Davie
Damn right, baby, I'm tight.
I plan to stay that way for the rest of the night.
There ain't enough on the news
to tell who's wrong and who's right,
Well, I did a little drinkin'
so I could stop thinkin'
and now I drink, you think, too much.
All of this is just a mirage.
The military complex, the mortar barrage.
Step into my new
mental montage
Well, I did a little drinkin'
so I could stop thinkin'
and now I drink, you think, too much.
I was thinking 'bout the Russians again.
It's a confrontation nobody wins.
And the next thing I knew
I was diluting my vodka with gin.
Now don't try to argue with me.
I turned off my head when I turned on the TV.
I'm gonna sprout some roots and
make like a tree
Well, I did a little drinkin'
so I could stop thinkin'
and now I drink, you think, too much.
Well, I was thinking 'bout the C.I.A.
It's a symptom of moral decay
when you're lying in bed
and you still gotta watch what you say.
Now baby, I think you understand
how a thinking man's head can get all out of hand.
Well, I got no solutions,
but I did have a plan . . .
I did a little drinkin'
so I could stop thinkin'
and now I drink, you think, too much.
Well, I did a little drinkin'
so I could stop thinkin'
and now I drink, you think, too much.
|
||||
15. |
||||
|
CLOUD CHOWDER
© Bill Davie
I had a small catastrophe, it followed me around.
It held my sense of humor tight, it would not put me down.
It cut holes in my apology, it stripped me where it shows.
It fell in my theology, and took off in my clothes.
It shouldered my presumptions. It burned up all my wood.
It switched on my assumptions, then it started feeling good.
And it felt so good, I don't know why.
And it felt so good it had to show.
And I don't know where it's gonna take me next,
all I know is I want to go. I want to go-go.
I had a natural disaster, it jumped into my space.
It got me moving faster. It set a dreadful pace.
It lessened my dimensions. It had me losing weight.
It pointed out my tensions. It was destiny or fate.
It channeled my expression. It made me think I could.
It threatened my protection, but it came out feeling good.
And it felt so good, I don't know why.
And it felt so good it had to show.
And I don't know where it's gonna take me next,
all I know is I want to go. I want to go
and it felt so good, I don't know why.
And it felt so good it had to show.
And I don't know where it's gonna take me next,
all I know is I want to go. I want to go-I got to go.
|
||||
16. |
Electric (Bonus Track)
02:41
|
|||
|
ELECTRIC
© Bill Davie
I hear the beat, I feel the beat,
but I'm still stifled by my limitations.
See this guitar? It's brought me far,
but it can't handle every situation.
Ooo, I want to go electric.
Ooo, it takes bread to go electric.
Ooo, won't you help me go electric
and let me sing in your bar?
But you say . . . !
I find my seat, and watch my feet.
They're always jumping
'cause they can't escape the beat.
I look at my room, stare at the gloom.
Some funky rhythm now would surely be a treat.
Ooo, I want to go electric.
Ooo, it's somehow more eclectic.
Ooo, won't you help me go electric
and let me sing in your bar?
It's a nice bar. Nice bar!
I could play here, maybe take us both far!
Ooo, I want to go electric.
Ooo, where the music's much more hectic.
Ooo, won't you help me go electric
and let me sing in your bar?
But you say, "No way, Jack!
You see the doorway.
Come back another day
as someone else."
Now, ain't that just the way?
I mean, the way of the world.
You decapitate a squirrel
backing out of your driveway.
And what will the Rabinowitz's say?
Sometimes it just don't pay
to start your day.
|
||||
17. |
||||
Bill Davie Seattle, Washington
Bill Davie began playing and singing when he was three years old. He wrote his first song at age 11. He produced eight recordings of original songs, five self-published books of poetry, and continues to be an active writer and performer at clubs, coffeehouses, colleges, and concert halls in the Pacific Northwest. ... more
If you like Bill Davie, you may also like:
Here in the Pitch
by Jessica Pratt
On her fourth album, Jessica Pratt blends up 60s pop and bossa nova into a spooky mix of soft psychedelia.
go to album
Great Loveday Wonder : The Collected Demo Recordings
by Billy Childish / William Loveday Intention
From the always-great label Tompkins Square comes two-dozen plus demos from alt legend Billy Childish.
go to album
Dakota Blue Moon
by Jackson Harden
Gorgeous acoustic Americana from North Carolina, stripped-back and sublime.
go to album
The latest from the UK’s Chris Brain is a gorgeously wrought album of tender acoustic folk music.
go to album
they only talk about the weather
by Arny Margret
The Icelandic songwriter packs her stunning debut with sweeping melodies delivered via intimate, folky arrangements.
go to album
The Australian singer's debut solo album is filled with creative indie pop tracks.
go to album
Fool Me As Many Times As You Like
by Daudi Matsiko
featured on Bandcamp Radio Aug 29, 2023
go to album
