A friend of mine
named Erik drummed for The Lost Pilgrims and their later incarnation,
The Keeners, in San Francisco. He was joined by two excellent
front men who both played guitar and had a gift for intelligent lyrics,
as well as a couple of talented bassists.
So here's a personal
gripe, and ain't shared misery half of what music is all about?
I'll never forget
the following lyric from Martin Kaplan, because it's happened so often
in my own life. Often I myself am not very assertive or ambitious --
and that's an unpardonable sin in today's America where we all fancy
ourselves to be gung-ho corporate movers and shakers. So sometimes,
people who see that, see that I'm mellow and unambitious, they get completely
carried away planning out all the goals and achievements which they
think I ought to be striving for. It happens just as
often in the social or family scene as the business scene: "What,
you're not married yet Kevin? Well here, sit down and let me walk you
through my surefire 9-step plan to remedy that..."
"Chapter 8" by Martin
Kaplan and the Lost Pilgrims
You took
my drugs away, and you made me face the pain... (hey,)
You
got to Chapter 8, but you forgot to turn the page...
Some
call it love, some call it love! (yeah, yeah)... on and
on...
Some
call it love, some call it love! (yeah, yeah)... on and
on...
You
made plans for my dreams, and now you want them more than
me...
(hey,)
You
got to Chapter 8, then you threw the book away...
(Chorus)
This
heart's so stable, this heart's so unstable... (and honest,
honest, honest)...
This
heart's so stable, this heart's so unstable... (and honest,
honest, honest)...
(Chorus
3x)
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Which leads nicely
into Ken Gould's lyrics about
"you don't know me"...
"Tired Sons" by Ken Gould
and the Keeners, with Todd Herfindal
God bless
the sounds of the tired sons
Focus
your eyes on the ugly ones
Do
you see what's inside -- they won't show you!
They can lie,
they can hide... the secret's not worth hanging onto
You
don't ask, you don't see -- what's in-between the dead and living.
I am alone
in my waiting room
Nothing
to hide, but what I've become...
Can you see
what's inside -- I won't show you!
I
can lie, I can hide... the secret's not worth hanging onto
You
don't ask, you don't see -- what's in-between the dead and living.
All at once, it comes through
Crawling
back to you!
Can you see
what's inside -- I don't know you
What
have you got inside?
I
won't show you.
I can lie,
I can hide... the secret's not worth hanging onto
You
don't ask, you don't see -- what's in-between the dead and living.
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Here's another good lyric from Ken,
one of my favorite songs he wrote as a Lost Pilgrim -- and then there's
an even better version of it from his new solo album, "Miles
from Mariana":
"Underground" by Ken Gould
and the Lost Pilgrims
Dyin' in
my bedroom, but I'm halfway Underground.
I wish I'd felt sorry
When I let you down...
There's not
much to me, to my modernistic life.
The times you found revolting
Were the times, that I tried...
I planned
for an overhaul,
To strip myself down,
To my best intentions,
But you took them Underground.
Said to me
right along,
I had been so unfair,
Tomorrow I'm sick again,
But it's nothing that you should bear.
I was colder
in Chicago, than I'd been all my life.
She stole my jacket,
And my blanket was way too light.
Believed
emotions, that she claimed she could fake.
Everything about her tells me,
I made a mistake...
She told
me she didn't mind,
If I stayed all night,
But now that I'm wandering,
I guess she lied.
So where
are the promises,
And the things you said last night?
My mind is a broken record
Struggling to set things right.
Dying in
my bedroom as the sun's going down.
Bury me before I
Drag you Underground.
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Mind if I recommend
one more?
"Gregory" by Martin Kaplan
and the Lost Pilgrims
Let the music
flow more gently,
Find some space and learn to breathe,
There is room for one more painter,
And it's the twenty-first century.
There are questions still unanswered,
There are stories yet to read,
And there is room for one more student,
Yes, there is room for Gregory... Gregory...
I'm homeless
as a writer,
Struggling like a spider with its web to weave,
I'm sheltered like a baby,
Hypnotized and crazy with its soul to ease...
There are prophets
still to hear from,
For there are dangers unforeseen,
And there is room for one more poet,
And it's the twenty-first century.
There are some men who just won't listen,
And others unwilling to believe,
And there is room for one more teacher,
Yes, there is room for Gregory... Gregory...
Oh, I'm homeless
as a writer,
Struggling like a spider with its web to weave,
I'm sheltered like a baby,
Hypnotized and lazy with its soul to ease...
Well, I'm no
expert of profession,
But there are mountains I have seen,
And though there's things I have forgotten,
I hope that you can learn from me.
There's a child's imagination,
There are fairy tales and dreams,
And there's not much adults can teach you,
And I will learn from Gregory... Gregory...
Oh, I'm homeless
as a writer,
Struggling like a spider with its web to weave,
I'm sheltered like a baby,
Hypnotized and lazy with its soul to ease...
I'm hungry as a lion,
Terrified and frightened of this mouth to feed,
I'm shiverin' like a baby,
And all ripped-up and lazy, with its soul to ease...
Soul to ease...
Soul to ease...
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These songs are copyright by The Lost Pilgrims and The
Keeners as noted. No ownership or permission is expressed or implied.
The accompanying audio clip is for your
"review purposes", in other words, I am explicitly hoping that
this sample inspires you to go out and buy the song. (Good luck finding
it!) And thereby avoid having the Lost Pilgrims or the Keeners sue me.
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