Nashville Demos

by OJR

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1.
Numb 03:57
Everybody always tellin' me That it don’t do me no good To try to fix what is broken They say there ain’t no use in splintered wood Everyone, they try and tell me “You don’t know nothin'--you’re only 21” Well aw sorry, man I didn’t know you’d gotten so cynical Don’t blame your age for makin' you numb You’re so numb Let me tell you ‘bout last night I was postin’ up round, you know The old neighborhood bar I got to talkin’ to a girl named Katherine, with an accent She brought with her from somewhere far She said, “Aw, boy, you’re so young! Why don’t you go travel some? Go sleep a night in another country’s bed” I said, “Hey, Kat You know, it seems that You got the right idea I’m tired of the food I’ve been fed” But I’m not numb I’m sick of everybody always tellin’ me How empathy don’t do business any good They might as well say, "Hey, boy, you shouldn’t give your extra bread to the homeless Outside the Bowery Mission in your own neighborhood” I'm fed up with everybody always tellin' me I don’t know nothin’ ‘cause I’m "too young" When the only thing they’ve learned in their 35 years of living Is to fight the urge to trust anyone (Come on, son… That’s no fun!) You’re so numb
2.
Pack all your things And turn off the lights I’ll fill up the tank, babe We’re leavin’ tonight We’re gonna do this thing right We’re gonna live that old outlaw life You got yer feet up on the dashboard Yer hand down in my lap We’re gunnin' for the wide road Got no need for maps This new paint job Gonna take us there at last Now we’re runnin’ from the law Drivin’ southbound fast Now we’re runnin’ from the law With our cash in the bags Now we’re runnin’ from the law And mama... Ain’t no turnin’ back! If we make it down to Texas We can hide out till June I got a friend in Gun Barrel City Who sleeps in his boots He’ll let us drown out the blues Out there, in the shine of the old moon I can hear the wolves howl loud! I can hear the sirens roar! Keep my ring on your thin finger Till we fall to the floor Mama, love is our judge And death our only court Now we’re runnin’ from the law Drivin’ southbound fast Now we’re runnin’ from the law With our cash in the bags Now we’re runnin’ from the law And mama... Ain’t no turnin’ back! [Spoken] La señorita and I made it down round Near the free edge of México Pushin’ 130, pressin’ hard Shootin’ hot toward Nuevo Laredo Till some gangbangin’ boys in blue caught up They was flyin’ fresh outta San Antone Now, my lady done got a bad eye So I’m drunk as a skunk on the road We go racin’ to our graves Singin’ 'long to the radio Mister George Jones croons low When just then I hear a heavy bullet hit home Now I’m runnin’ from the law Drivin’ straight to hell fast Now I’m runnin’ from the law With our cash in the bags We went runnin’ from the law And mama ...She never turned back
3.
Sad Pony 04:35
What’s it gonna take To get you out my business… man? What’s it gonna take To get you off my back? I don’t cut my hair I wear high-heeled shoes When I wake up in the mornin’ It’s true that it’s two in the afternoon What does that have anything to do with you? You ride a sad pony I’m gonna get you fired, boy You’re so fired! I see you go standin' there With your nice hair and your ice glare Lookin' like you got some wild place to be ’Til I show up on the scene I mean, hey, you know me I’m just lookin' for a free place to pee You say, "How 'bout I stand behind you, do some voodoo Before the three blue doors, and ask you a few questions?" I say, “Hey, man, what’s with all the hecklin' and the pressurin’? I’m just tryin' to spread the freshness of love and peace" But You ride a sad pony Ahh! Last night I was hanging out late down round, you know Some dirty ol’ backwoods karaoke bar Now I gotta admit I was drinkin’ a bit hard But only ‘cause the village clown drove off to downtown with my car When just then, in the crowd, a big man, too damn loud Starts a-whoopin’ and a-hollerin’ up at me He said, “Would ya look at this big-city, Axl Rose wannabe Soccer-loving brat in his faggy lil' skinny jeans” Now I don’t mean to be mean, man Really, it ain’t much my scene But allow me, please, to say this one thing: That meathead fool was balder than a baby Mr. Clean I think it’s HE who’s got the bad genes! ‘Cause He rides a sad pony And his Father rides a sad pony And his Lord rides a sad pony And sometimes The whole world rides a sad pony
4.
I Cry 03:31
Leave me at the window Blowin’ smoke onto the street Thinkin’ deep in summer heat About the things that I did see In a month in this sweet city Like a four-week-long pipedream Pass me the wine I’m feelin’ whiney, so it seems That I must cry Oh, I cry For tonight I leave Paris Et ma blonde cherie behind And so I cry I leave you at the station I lay my letter in your hands It says I’ll phone you come round August When I’m back from pretty lands I’m your dirty old American In a ramblin’ rock & roll band And now I hit the rails And say au revoir to France But I must cry Oh, I cry For tonight I leave Paris Et ma blonde cherie behind And so I cry Oh, I cry Now I’m bound for Italy With great tears in my blue eyes You’re my long-legged lady And your tongue is sharp I’m gonna miss you so dearly When I’m travelin’ so far Please hold me till the evenin’ When my train is set to part It breaks my heart, it breaks my heart
5.
Just the other night In the light You was lookin’ so nice You was there on my right You was gunnin’ fer strikes You was fixin’ to kill ‘em To knock ‘em all down You’re the queen around town I’m a gutterball clown I’m in love with a bowler And I hardly know her Yeah, she think I’m crazy I bet she think I’m crazy Please shout me your sweet name Across this polished wooden lane I wish you’d come and dance with me Aw, but I’m just a big old turkey Gobble gobble, mama! I’m in love with a bowler And I hardly know her Yeah, she think I’m crazy I bet she think I’m crazy Now you’re shakin' to the Allman Brothers Band You got your Bud Light in your left hand You got your camouflage, huntin’ hat on And you’re the one, you’re the one Won’t you sit upon my knees? I wanna make you my sweet company You’re my southern belle with balls You got it all, mama You got it all! I’m in love with a bowler And I hardly know her Yeah, she think I’m crazy I bet she think I’m crazy
6.
I didn’t know the cold verdict You’d cast upon me When I limped my way to the bar I didn’t realize you’d be cuttin' Me loose so early ’Til you shook me off of your line You shake 'em all off, all the time ‘Cause you’re a Fisher of Men Now, Pretty Swiss Hippie You got one again You’re a Fisher of Men And that’s fine That’s fine I shoulda known swimmin’ in your sea I’d bite the hook to taste a kiss If you let me try again, I won’t miss I shoulda known swimmin’ in your sea You’d fry yourself a bigger fish You curl your tongue and shake your hips While your Gypsy Cat licks her lips ‘Cause you’re a Fisher of Men Now, Pretty Swiss Hippie You got one again You’re a Fisher of Men And that’s fine That’s fine The words she gave to me Early one morning: “I fought the fickle face of fate" "I'm confused and selfish as of late" "But I hope that you’ve been doin' great" "And it’s not your fault you took the bait" ‘Cause I’m a Fisher of Men Aw, Skinny Blond Hippie I got one again I’m a Fisher of Men Is that fine?” Yeah, that’s fine We had fun, kid
7.
I don’t wanna be a part Of my generation Aw, man, the frustration When they force me to be And I don’t wanna live Inside my phone’s screen Hey, man, do you know what I mean? Hey, kid, do you know what I mean? I’m talkin’ that old-fashioned livin’ Take me back Take me back to 1964 I think Oo I think I’d like it more I don’t wanna be a part Of this selfie situation Aw, but I’m a part of the equation And I don’t wish to be I wanna let my freak flag fly I wanna boogie and get high I wanna wash the world in light Talkin’ a little peace and love, that’s right Hey, don’t that sound so nice? Take me back Take me back to 1964 I think Oo I think I’d like it more I don’t wanna be a part Of my generation! But it’s just the situation I guess there ain’t no use in complainin’ I’m just sayin’ I can’t seem to fit all my thoughts into one hundred forty Characters, oh no! Or some emoji Do you even know me, man? I’m a little lonely man That’s it, that’s it! Take me back Take me back to 1964 I think Oo I think I’d like it more
8.
Lips on Fire 04:52
Mama rule the heavens With her pink tongue Got smoke in her eye But says she don’t feel nothin’ She ask for a drag And always ends up bummin’ Mama, oh, mama She got the sun a-scorchin’ Through her gold skin She bought sunglasses Then she couldn’t pay her rent I don’t wanna be The Sun Goddess’ Kid I just wanna Just wanna feel somethin’ And taste the sun On your lips Come on, baby Just dive into these good vibes You look like Betty Draper With your lips Lips on fire Can we get higher? Mama in the hot seat ‘Cause she make the big boys blush My flesh go wild When she talk her makeup She grab for somethin’ And I feel Her Holy Touch But Mama, oh, Mama It ain’t too much Come on, baby Just dive into these good vibes You look like Betty Draper With your lips Lips on fire Can we get higher? Mama in my dream Just a-dancin’ on my car In New Orleans We pay a dame to flip our cards I got The Fool And Springsteen got The Star Ain’t that so hard? To know all your cards? And miss the sun On Mama’s lips? I wanna boogie with you It’s you, Ma
9.
No hope I’m lost in some old French town Tryin’ to ride thumb To Berlin from Calais The truckers, they just laugh and pass So merry on their way Now I’m missin’ sweet Paris on a rainy day Lungs choked In bed in Barcelona My mates ask I say that I’m okay The doctor, when he hears my heart He tells me it’s in pain Now I’m missin’ sweet Paris on a rainy day You think you know it ’Til you’re sleepin’ in a park You think you know it ’Til they’re stealin’ your guitar You think you’re lonely ’Til you’re half a world away And you’re missin’ sweet Paris on a rainy day Clothes soaked I cry on Curry Mile Beat down Defeated in dismay The Manc boys, they heckle me And send me far astray Now I’m missin’ sweet Paris on a rainy day You think you know it ’Til you’re sleepin’ in a park You think you know it ’Til they’re stealin’ your guitar You think you’re lonely ’Til you’re half a world away And you’re missin’ sweet Paris on a rainy day Dead broke I’m stuck in Southeast London Locked out Beneath clouds so dark and gray I call Jeanne just to talk Although, I don’t have much to say Just that I’m missin’ sweet Paris on a rainy day
10.
My lady got a secret She keep from me every night When I’m away for ten hours a day There’s another dog pleasin’ my wife My lady done got a dark secret And she hide it from her hard-workin’ man I plead, “Mama, no more!" On this killin’ floor I get home and hear my backdoor slam So don’t tell me That you love me If I’m your Front-Door Man My lady got a secret She keep ‘neath our four-poster bed When I go away fourteen hours a day She make lemon juice run down his leg My lady done got a dark secret And she hide it from her hard-workin’ man I plead, “Mama, no more!" On this killin’ floor I get home and hear my backdoor slam So don’t tell me That you love me If I’m your Front-Door Man

credits

released May 5, 2015

All songs written and performed by Oliver John-Rodgers (SHAG SONGS, BMI), with the help of...

Jason Andrews: Accordion on "Missin' Sweet Paris on a Rainy Day"

Francis Coke: Vocals/organ on "Sad Pony"; vocals/percussion on "Front-Door Man"

Abbey Ray: Piano on "Runnin' from the Law," "I Cry," "Fisher of Men," and "Missin' Sweet Paris on a Rainy Day"

Kevin Sabik: Trumpet on “Runnin’ from the Law”

Allie Summers: Violin on “Runnin’ from the Law, “Fisher of Men,” and “My Generation”; flute on “My Generation”

Jackson Ward: Guitar on “Runnin’ from the Law”

--

All songs home-recorded in bedrooms in New York, London, Paris, Nashville, and Virginia.

Mastered by Andy Wildrick in Nashville, TN.

Album cover photographed by Kar Zano (WYLDSOL).

The Nashville Demos are dedicated to Sonia Stringer, Stacey Pickering, Olivia Rose Murphy, Alec Hanefeld, Jeanne Dever's, Amelia Jenkins, Patrick Putman, Pierre Flipo, Quentin Duesser, Augustin Prevost, Tommaso Zuffa, Clara Martin, Nick Larsen/Erasmus Crew, Chaz "The Chazmanian Devil" Phillips, Daniel Blackman, Felix Read, and the rest of the kind souls abroad who've shown me human style. I am an American traveler in your arms, and you take good care.

Peace, love, rock, roll,
OJR

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