1. (Opening Intro)
2. Emotional Weather Report
3. (Intro)
4. On A Foggy Night
5. (Intro)
6. Eggs And Sausage (In A Cadillac With Susan Michelson
7. (Intro)
8. Better Off Without A Wife
9. Nighthawk Postcards (From Easy Street)
10. (Intro)
11. Warm Beer And Cold Women
12. (Intro)
13. Putnam County
14. Spare Parts I (A Nocturnal Emission)
15. Nobody
16. (Intro)
17. Big Joe And Phantom 309
18. Spare Parts II And Closing
OPENING INTRO
Well... an inebriated good evening to you all. Welcome to Raphael's Silver Cloud Lounge. Slip me a lil' crimson, Jimson. Gimme the low-down, Brown. Now what's the scoop, Betty Boop? I'm on my way into town. Christ, while we're at it, I want to thank Dawna for opening the program for us. I'm so goddam horny that the crack of dawn better be careful around me! Yeah... I wanna pull on your coat about somethin' here tonight. Yeah, a little news I'd like to throw in your direction. See, I... I used to know a girl... Yeah, and it was a hubba-hubba and ding ding ding, I said baby you got everything. A week later it was a hubba-hubba and ding ding dong, baby it sure didn't last too long. I know, things are tough all over, and they ain't getting any better. I was moved to kinda squib a little bit of kind of an emotional weather forecast for you this evening. What I'm talking about is, well you know, I've been playing night clubs and staying out all night long. Comin' home late. Gone for three months, come back and everything in your refrigerator turns into a science project. So you get designs on a waitress, you know? She got three or four kids. She's sorting out her checks and she's counting out her change. You say, 'Hey baby, heat me up a bear claw on the radar range.' Well, then it gets real cold...
EMOTIONAL WEATHER REPORT
What we're talking about is late night and early morning low clouds
With a chance of fog, chance of showers into the afternoon
With variable high cloudiness and gusty winds
Gusty winds at times around the corner of Sunset and Alvarado
Yeah, I know, things are tough all over
When the thunder storms start increasing over the
Southeast and South Central portions of my apartment, I get upset
And a line of thunderstorms was developing in the early morning hours ahead of a slow moving cold front,
Cold-blooded
With tornado watches issued shortly before noon Sunday for the areas including the western region of my mental health
And the northern portion of my ability to deal rationally with my disconcerted precarious emotional situation
It's cold out there
Colder than the ticket taker's smile at the Ivar Theatre, on Saturday night
Flash flood watches cover the southern portion of my disposition, yeah
There was no severe weather well into the afternoon
Except for kind of a lone gust of wind in the bedroom
A high pressure zone covering the eastern portion of a small suburban community with a 1034 millibar high pressure zone
And a weak pressure ridge extending from my eyes down to my cheeks
'Cause since you left me baby and put the vice grips on my mental health
Well, the extended outlook for an indefinite period of time until you come back to me, baby, is high tonight, low tomorrow
And precipitation is expected
That wraps up the weather for this evening.
Now back to the eleven o'clock blues.
Doctor George Fishbeck ain't got nothing on me!
INTRO
Well, I think it's about time I took you on an improvisational adventure into the bowels of the Metropolitan region. Looks like a bona fide high voltage decked out in full regalia Angelino audience, driving in Subarus, Pintos, Malibus, Oldsmobiles. A small suburban community. This is kinda 'bout two thirty in the morning. You been standing on the corner of 5th and Vermouth, and you climb into the helm of a 1958 monkey-shit brown Buick Super, and you're on your way home. A luxury automobile, bought at Dollar Bill's Easy Autos for next to nothin'. You're cruisin' along, everything's goin' fine. Put a little smooth music on the stereo. Light up an Old Gold, save the coupon! Gotta think in terms of that patio furniture and that Toro mower, man. Yeah. You're on the Santa Monica freeway headed in an easterly direction, you just passed the La Cienega good turn-off, and you run into a cold fogbank...
ON A FOGGY NIGHT
It was all upon a foggy night, an abandoned road
In a twilight mirror mirage
With no indication of any kind of service station
Or an all-night garage
I was misinformed, I was misdirected
‘Cause the interchange never intersected
Leaving me marooned beneath a bloodshot moon
All upon a foggy night, a foggy night
All upon a foggy night
It was kind of an abandoned road, in a blurred brocade collage
Is that a road motel, I can't really tell
You gotta tell me, is that a vacancy lodge
There's no consolation, what kind of situation
To be aimlessly askew amidst a powder blue
No tell-tale light clue
Spun just like the spell you spin
This precarious pandemonium
Roslyn, I'm stranded, all upon a foggy night
Like a sweepstakes ticket for a Broadway arcade
Heads you win, tails I lose
I'm rambling, I'm gambling
All upon a foggy night, foggy night
Foggy night, foggy night
You got the vice grips on my personality
It's all upon a foggy night
All upon a foggy night
All upon a foggy night
On a foggy night
All upon a foggy
All upon a foggy night
INTRO
I was always uh... kinda wanted like to consider myself kind of a pioneer of the palate. A restaurateur if you will. I've wined, dined, sipped and supped in some of the most demonstrably demi-epitomable bistros in the Los Angeles metropolitan region. Uh-huh-huh-huh... Yeah, I've had strange looking pattie melts at Norm's. I've had dangerous veal cutlets at the Copper Penny. Well, what you get is a breaded Salisbury steak and a Shake'n'Bake, and topped with a provocative sauce of Velveeta and half-and-half..., uh-huh-huh-huh. Smothered with Campbell's tomato soup. Huh-huh-huh-huh... You see, I had kind of a uh... well, I ordered my veal cutlet, Christ it left the plate and it walked down to the end of the counter. (...?...) waitress (...?...), boy she's wearing those rhinestone glasses with the little pearl thing clipped on her sweater. The veal cutlet come down trying to beat the shit out of my cup of coffee but... Coffee just wasn't strong enough to defend itself. Uh-huh-huh-huh...
EGGS AND SAUSAGE (IN A CADILLAC WITH SUSAN MICHELSON)
Nighthawks at the diner of Emma's Forty-Niner
There's a rendezvous of strangers around the coffee urn tonight
All the gypsy hacks and the insomniacs
Now the paper's been read, now the waitress said
“Eggs and sausage and a side of toast
Coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy
Chile in a bowl with burgers and fries
What kind of pie? Yeah...”
It's a graveyard charade, it's a late shift masquerade
And it's two for a quarter, dime for a dance
Woolworth's rhinestone diamond earrings and a sideway’s glance
Now the register rings, now the waitress sings
“Eggs and sausage and a side of toast
Coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy
Chile in a bowl with burgers and fries
What kind of pie? Yeah”
Now well, the classified section offers no direction
It's a cold caffeine in a nicotine cloud
Now the touch of your fingers lingers burning in my memory
I've been eighty-sixed from your scheme
Now I'm in a melodramatic nocturnal scene
Now I'm a refugee from a disconcerted affair
Now the lead pipe morning falls, now the waitress calls
“Eggs and sausage, another side of toast
Coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy
Chile in a bowl with burgers and fries
Now what kind of pie?”
À la mode if you will
Just come in and join the crowd
Had some time to kill, yeah
You see, I just come in to join the crowd
Had some time to kill
Just come in to join the crowd
‘Cause I had some time to kill
INTRO
For all the bachelors out there tonight. Yeah, for anybody who's ever whistled this song... Or maybe you've whistled it but you've lost the sheet music. Eh-heh-heh-heh. This is eh.... Well, actually, I don't mind going to weddings or anything. As long as it's not my own, I show up. But, eh... I've always kind of been partial to calling myself up on the phone and asking myself out. You know... Oh yeah, you call yourself up too, huh? Yeah... Well, one thing about it, you're always around! Yeah, I know. Yeah, you ask yourself out, you know. Some class joint somewhere. The Burrito King or something. You know... Well, I ain't cheap, you know. Take yourself out for a couple of drinks maybe, you know. Then you'll be... some provocative conversation on the way home. And park in front of the house, you know, and you... Oh yeah, you´re smooth with it... you know, you put a little nice music on. Maybe you put on like... you know... like shopping music, something that's not too interruptive, you know. And then, you know, and eh... slide over real nice, you know, say, 'Oh, I think you have something in your eye'. Eh-heh-heh. Well, maybe it's not that romantic with you, but Christ, I... you know! It ain't... you know... Take myself up to the porch, and take myself inside. Oh, maybe... I make a little something, a brandy snifter or something. Would you like to listen to some of my back records. I got something here... Well, usually about 2.30 in the morning you've ended up taking advantage of yourself and... there ain't no way around that, you know. Yeah, making the scene with a magazine, there ain't no way around... I'll confess, you know, I'm no different, you know. I'm not weird about it or anything. I don't tie myself up first, I just... you know. I just kind of... spend a little time with myself. So this is kind of a little anthem here...
BETTER OFF WITHOUT A WIFE
All my friends are married
Every Tom and Dick and Harry
You must be strong if you're to go it alone
Here's to the bachelors and the Bowery bums
Those who feel that they're the ones
That are better off without a wife
‘Cause I like to sleep until the crack of noon
Midnight howling at the moon
Going out when I want to,
And I'm coming home when I please
Don't have to ask permission
If I wanna go out fishing
Never have to ask for the keys
I've never been no Valentino
But I had a girl who lived in Reno
Left me for a trumpet player
Well, it didn't get me down
He was wanted for assault
And though he said it weren't his fault
You know the coppers rode him right out of town
I'll be sleeping until the crack of noon
Midnight howling at the moon
And I'll be going out when I want to
Coming home when I please
Don't have to ask permission
If I wanna go out fishing
Never have to ask for the keys
Yeah, you see I'm kinda selfish about my privacy
Now as long as I can be with me
We get along so well I can't even believe it
I love to chew the fat with folks
I'll be listening to all your dirty jokes
I'm so thankful for these friends I do receive
I'll be sleeping until the crack of noon
Midnight howling at the moon
And I'll be going out when I want to
Coming home when I please
Don't have to ask permission
If I wanna go out fishing
Never have to ask for the keys, no
Hey, I got this girl I know, man, and I just
She's been married several times and
I don't wanna end up like her
I mean, she's been married so many times
She's got rice-marks all over her face
Yeah, you know the kind
NIGHTHAWK POSTCARDS (FROM EASY STREET)
Goodness gracious, my bass player should be chained up somewhere. Mongrel... canine... growl.
I wanna take you on kind of an inebriational travelogue here Yeah, ain't got no spare, you ain't got no jack You don't give a shit, you ain't never comin' back. Maybe you're standin' on the corner of 17th and Wazee Streets. Out in front of the Terminal Bar There's a Thunderbird movin' in a muscatel sky... He-he. You've been drinkin' cleanin' products all night... Open for suggestions... Eh-he-he-he. It's kinda 'bout... well it's kinda 'bout goin' down to the corner. Say, 'Well, I'm just goin' down to the corner to get a pack of cigarettes, I'll be back in a minute'
Yeah, you check out the street and it looks like there's kind of a..., kind of a blur drizzle down the plate glass
And as a neon swizzle stick is stirring up the sultry night air
Looks like a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue ball moon
Rolling maverick across an obsidian sky
And as the buses go groaning and wheezing
Down on the corner I'm freezing
On a restless boulevard at a midnight road
I'm across town from Easy Street
With the tight knots of moviegoers and out-of-towners on the stroll
The buildings towering high above lit like dominoes or black dice
Used car salesmen dressed up in Purina checkerboard slacks and Foster Grant wraparounds
Pacing in front of Rainbow, Earl Scheib, thirty-nine ninety-five merchandise.
Like barkers at a shooting gallery
They throw out a Texas Guinan routine:
“Hello sucker, we like your money, just as well as anybody else's here
Come on over here now...
Let me put the cut back in your strut and the glide back in your stride
Now climb aboard a customs Oldsmobile, let me take you for a ride”
Or they give you that P. T. Barnum bit:
“There's a sucker born every minute!”
“You just happened to be coming along at the right time, you know, come over here now”
And you know, all the harlequin sailors are on the stroll
In search of like new, new paint
And decent factory air and AM-FM dreams.
Yeah, and all the piss yellow gypsy cabs
They're stacked up in the taxi zones
And they're waiting like pinball machines
To be ticking off a joyride to a magical place
Like Truckers Welcome diners
With dirt lots full of Peterbilts and Kenworths and Jimmies and the like
They're hi-balling with bankrupt brakes
Man, they're overdriven and they're underpaid
They're overfed, and they're a day late and a dollar short
But Christ, I got my lips around a bottle
And I got my foot on the throttle and I'm standing on the corner
Standing on the corner like a just got in town Jasper
I'm on a street corner with a gasper
Looking for some kind of a Cheshire billboard grin
Stroking a goateed chin
Using parking meters as walking sticks
Yeah, on the inebriated stroll
With my eyelids propped open at half mast
But you know, over at "Chubb's Pool and Snooker"
Well, it was a nickel after two, yeah, it was a nickel after two
And in the cobalt steel blue dream smoke
Why, it was the radio that groaned out the hit parade
And the chalk squeaked and the floorboards creaked
And an Olympia sign winked through a torn yellow shade
Old Jack Chance himself leaning up against a Wurlitzer
Man, he was eyeballing out a five ball combination shot
Impossible you say? Hard to believe?
Perhaps out of the realm of possibility?
Naaaah
‘Cause he be stretching out long tawny fingers
Out across a cool green felt in a provocative golden gate
He got a full table railshot that's no sweat
And I leaned up against my banister
I wandered over to the Wurlitzer and I punched A2
I was looking for maybe 'Wine Wine Wine' by the Nightcaps
Starring Chuck E. Weiss
Or maybe... maybe a little something called "High Blood Pressure"
By George (Crying in the Streets) Perkins, no dice
'Cause that's life, that's what all the people say
You're riding high in April, you're seriously shot down in May
I know I'm gonna change that tune
When I'm standing underneath a buttery moon
That's all melted off to one side
Parkay
It was just about that time that the sun came crawling yellow
Out of a manhole at the foot of twenty-third Street
And a Dracula moon in a black disguise
Was making its way back to its pre-paid room at the St. Moritz Hotel
And the El train tumbled across the trestles
And it sounded like the ghost of Gene Krupa
With an overhead cam and glasspaks
And the whispering brushes of wet radials on wet pavement
Shhhhhhhhhhhhsh
With a traffic jam session on Belmont tonight
And the rhapsody of the pending evening
I leaned up against my banister
And I've been looking for some kind of an emotional investment
With romantic dividends
Yeah, kind of a physical negotiation is underway
As I attempt to consolidate all my missed weekly rendezvous
Into one low monthly payment, through the nose
With romantic residuals and legs akimbo
But the chances are that more than likely
Standing underneath a moon holding water
I'll probably be held over for another
Smashed weekend
Thank you
INTRO
Hey, how are you?
This is about a... well, I'd kinda reached the end of an emotional cul-de-sac one particular evening. It was a strange sort of evening. I ended up at a little vino place called The Three Little Pigs. Well, I was starin' at the beer nuts, and the swizzle sticks, and the three little pigs... I was gettin' a lot of visual and verbal insubordination from a double-knit character in the corner, and...
WARM BEER AND COLD WOMEN
...One of those nights
It's warm beer and cold women, no I just don't fit in
‘Cause every joint I stumbled into tonight, that's just how its been
All these double-knit strangers with gin and vermouth
And recycled stories, in the naugahyde booths
And the platinum blondes and tobacco brunettes
I'll just be drinking to forget you, I light another cigarette
And the band's playing something by Tammy Wynette
And the drinks are on me tonight
All my conversations now, I'll just be talking about you, baby
I'm boring some sailor as I try to get through
I just want him to listen now I say that's all you have to do
He said I'm better off without you, until I showed him my tattoo
And now the moon's rising, ain't no time to lose
Time to get down to drinking, tell the band to play the blues
And the drinks are on me, now I'll buy a couple of rounds
At the last ditch attempt saloon
Warm beer and cold women, no I just don't fit in
Every joint I stumble into tonight, that's just how it's been
All these double-knit strangers with gin and vermouth
Receding hairlines, in the naugahyde booths
And the platinum blondes and tobacco brunettes
I'll just be drinking to forget you, baby, I light a menthol cigarette
And the band's playing something by Johnnie Barnette
At the last ditch attempt saloon
INTRO
I wanna tell you a story here. It's about a place called Putnam County. Yeah... How's the service here? Yeah, it's all right? I mean, I gave you a beer and everything. Don't gotta pay or nothin'. Well, they hit you up at the door on your way out...
PUTNAM COUNTY
I guess things were always kind of quiet around Putnam County
Kind of shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the two-lane
That was stretched out just like an asphalt dance floor
Where all the old-timers in bib jeans and store bought boots
Were hunkering down in the dirt
To lie about their lives and the places that they'd been
And they'd suck on Coca Colas, yeah, and be spitting Day's Work
Until the moon was a stray dog on the ridge and...
And the taverns would be swollen until the naked eye of two a.m.
And the Stratocasters slung over the burgermeister beer guts
And swizzle-stick legs jackknifed over naugahyde stools... yeah
And the witch hazel spread out over the linoleum floors
And pedal-pushers stretched out over a midriff bulge
And the coiffed brunette curls over Maybelline eyes
Wearing Prince Machiavelli, or something yeah
Estee Lauder, smells so sweet
And I elbowed up at the counter with mixed feelings over mixed drinks
As Bubba and the Roadmasters moaned in pool hall concentration and...
And knit their brows to cover the entire Hank Williams songbook
Whether you like it or not
And the old National register was singing to the tune of fifty-seven dollars and fifty-seven cents, yeah
And then it's last call, one more game of eight-ball
Berniece'd be putting the chairs on the tables
And someone come in and say, 'Hey man, anyone got any jumper cables?'
'Is that a 6 or a 12 volt, man? I don't know...'
Yeah, and all the studs in town would toss 'em down
And claim to fame as they stomped their feet
Yeah, boasting about being able to get more ass than a toilet seat
And the GMC's and the Straight-8 Fords were coughing and wheezing
And they percolated as they tossed the gravel underneath the fenders
To weave home a wet slick anaconda of a two-lane
With tire irons and crowbars a-rattling
With a tool box and a pony saddle
You're grinding gears and you're shifting into first
Yeah, and that goddamned tranny's just getting worse, man
With the melody of see-ya-laters and screwdrivers on carburetors
Talking shop about money to loan
And palominos and strawberry roans, yeah
See ya tomorrow, hello to the Missus
With money to borrow and goodnight kisses
As the radio spit out Charlie Rich, man,
He sure can sing that son of a bitch
And you weave home, yeah, weaving home
Leaving the little joint winking in the dark warm narcotic American night
Beneath a pin cushion sky
And it's home to toast and honey, gotta start up the Ford, man
Yeah, and your lunch money's right over there on the draining board
And the toilet's running Christ, shake the handle
And the telephone is ringing, it's Mrs. Randall
And where the hell are my goddamned sandals?
What you mean, the dog chewed up my left foot?
With the porcelain poodles and the glass swans
Staring down from the knickknack shelf. yeah
And the parent's permission slips for the kids' field trips
Yeah, and a pair of mukluks scraping across the shag carpet, yeah
And the impending squint of first light
And it lurked behind a weeping marquee in downtown Putnam
Yeah, and it'd be pulling up any minute now
Just like a bastard amber Velveeta yellow cab on a rainy corner
And be blowing its horn in every window in town
SPARE PARTS I (A NOCTURNAL EMISSION)
Well, the dawn cracked hard just like a bullwhip
‘Cause it wasn't taking no lip from the night before
And it shook out the streets, as the stew bums showed up like bounced checks,
Rubbing their necks and the sky turned the color of Pepto-Bismol
Yeah, and the parking lots growled
My old sport coat full of promissory notes and a receipt from a late night motel
The hawk had his whole family out there in the wind
And he got a message for you to beware
Kicking your ass in, in a cold-blooded fashion
And dishing out more than a good man can bear
And I got shoes untied, my shirttail is out
Ain't got a ghost of a chance with this old romance
Just an apartment for rent down the block
Ivar Theater with live burlesque
Man, the manager's scowling, with his feet on the desk
Boom boom against the curtain, you're still hurting, ay-ay
And then push came to shove, and shove came to biff
Girls like that just lay you out stiff
Maybe I'll go to Cleveland and, you know, get me a tattoo or something
My brother-in-law lives there
And it's a skid mark tattoo on the asphalt blue
Was that a Malibu?
Vroooooom, vroooooom
Yeah, it's Liz Taylor and Montgomery Clift
Coming on to the broads with the same old riff, yeah
'Hey baby, why don't you come up to my place?
We'll listen to some smooth music on the stereo' eh-he-he'
'No thank you,' she said, eh-he-he, 'you got any Stan Getz records?'
'No man, I got eh... Smothers Brothers'
So I combed back my Detroit, jacked up my pegs
I wiped my Stacy Adams' and I jackknifed my legs
Yeah, I got designs on a moving violation
Yeah baby, you put me on hold and I'm out in the wind and it's getting mighty cold
It's colder than a gut-shot bitch wolf dog with nine sucking pups pulling a number-four trap up a hill in the dead of winter in the middle of a snowstorm with a mouth full of porcupine quills
Well, I don't need you, baby
You see, it's a well known fact, you know
I'm four sheets to the wind, I'm glad you're gone
I'm glad you're gone, cause I'm finally alone
Glad you're gone, but I wish you'd come home
Yeah, and I struggled out of bed
‘Cause the dawn was cracking hard just like a bullwhip
And it wasn't taking no lip from the night before
Yeah, as it shook out the streets and the stew bums showed up just like bounced checks,
Rubbing their necks and the sky turned the color of Pepto-Bismol
And my old sport coat full of promissory notes
And the hawk had his whole family out there in the wind
He got a message for you to beware
Kicking your ass in, in a cold blooded fashion
He'll be dishing out more than a good man can bear
Well let's take it to Bakersfield, get a little apartment somewhere
NOBODY
Nobody, nobody
Will ever love you the way I could love you
‘Cause nobody, nobody is that strong
Love is bittersweet
And life's treasures deep
And no one can keep a love that's gone wrong
Nobody, nobody
Will love you the way that I could
‘Cause nobody, nobody's that strong
‘Cause nobody is that strong
Nobody, nobody
Will ever love you the way I can love you
‘Cause nobody, nobody's that strong
You've had many lovers
You'll have many others
But they'll only just break your poor heart in two
Nobody, nobody
Will love you the way that I could
‘Cause nobody, nobody's that strong
‘Cause nobody is that strong
INTRO
Well now, it's story time again. I'm gonna tell you a story 'bout a truck driver. This story was written by a guy named Red Sovine, and it's called the Ballad of Big Joe and Phantom 309
BIG JOE AND PHANTOM 309
See, I just happened to be back on the East coast a few years back
I was trying to make me a buck like everybody else
I'll be damned if times didn't get hard, and Christ I got down on my luck
And I got tired of just roaming and bumming around
So I started thumbing my way back to my old hometown
And you know, I made quite a few miles in the first couple of days
You know, I figured I'd be home in a week if my luck held out this way
You know, it was the third night, oh and I got stranded
And it was out at a cold lonely crossroads
And as the rain came pouring down, man I was hungry
Yeah, I was hungry, tired and freezing, caught myself a chill
But it was just about that time
Yeah, it was just about that time that the lights of an old semi topped the hill
You should've seen me smile when I heard them air brakes come on
Yeah, and I climbed up into that cab where I knew it'd be warm
At the wheel... well, at the wheel sat a big man
And I'd have to say he must've weighed two ten
As he stuck out a big hand and he said with a grin
'Big Joe's the name, and this here rig is called Phantom 309'
Well, I asked him why he called his rig such a name
And you know, he turned to me and said
'Why son, don't you know this here rig'll be putting 'em all to shame
Nah, there ain't a driver
No, there ain't a driver on this or any other line for that matter that
That's seen nothing but the taillights of Big Joe and Phantom 309'
So we rode and we talked the better part of the night
And I told my stories and Joe told his
And I smoked up all his Viceroys as we rolled along
Pushed her ahead with ten forward gears
Man, that dashboard was lit like the old Madame La Rue pinball
Serious semi-truck
'Til almost mysteriously
Well, it was the lights of a truck stop that rolled into sight
Joe turned to me, said 'I'm sorry son, but I'm afraid this is just as far as you go, you see
You see, I kinda gotta be making a turn just up the road a piece'
I'll be damned if he didn't toss me a dime as he threw her in low and said
'Go on in there son, and get yourself a hot cup of coffee on Big Joe'
I mean to tell you, when Joe and his rig pulled off into the night
Man, in nothing flat they was clean outta sight
So I walked into this stop, well I ordered me up a cup of mud
Saying 'Big Joe's setting this dude up'
But it got so deadly quiet in that place
Yeah, it got so deadly quiet in that place, you could've heard a pin drop
And as the waiter's face turned kind of pale I said
'What's the matter, did I say something wrong?'
I kind of said with a half way grin
He said, 'No son, you see it'll kinda happen every now and then
'Cause every driver in here knows Big Joe, son, but
But let me tell you what happened just ten years ago out there
Yeah, it was ten years ago, out there at that cold lonely crossroads
And there was a whole busload of kids
And then they were just coming from school
And they were right in the middle when Joe topped the hill and
They could've been slaughtered except Joe turned his wheels
And he jackknifed, yeah he jackknifed, and he went into a skid
And you know, folks around here, well
They say he gave his life to save that bunch of kids
And out there at that cold lonely crossroads
Well, they're saying it was the end of the line for Big Joe and Phantom 309
But it's funny you know, cause... cause every now and then
Yeah, every now and then when the moon's holding water
Well, they say that old Joe'll stop and give you a ride
It seems, just like you, some hitchhiker will be coming by'
'So here, son,' he said to me, 'you get yourself another cup of coffee
It's on the house, I kind of want you to hang on to that dime
Yeah, I kind of want you to hang on to that dime as a souvenir
I want you to keep that dime as a souvenir of Big Joe
Of Big Joe and Phantom
Big Joe and Phantom 309
SPARE PARTS II AND CLOSING
I want to thank you all very much for coming this evening. It really made my night. It would have been real strange here if nobody would have showed up
I'd like to introduce my group this evening and it's been a real preasure, a preasure and a plivilege to work with these gentlemen
I'd like to introduce, please give a warm round of applause for Michael Melvoin on piano!
On saxophone, Pete Christlieb
On bass, Jim Hughart
And on drums, Bill Goodwin
Yeah
They all come from good families, but over the years they just kind of individually developed some ways about them that just aren't right, you know
I was real pleased, I noticed everybody coming in this evening you're all decked out in full regalia and everything and I appreciate you getting dressed up for an affair such as this. You know, I think it's something that I've always tried to be as concerned about as possible and somebody said to me one day 'Christ, Waits! You look so goddamned raggedy, why don't you get yourself something to wear, you know?'
I said, 'Yeah well, not a bad idea' Maybe a serious seersucker Saturday evening cranberry accoutrement ensemble would be nice.
So I went down to Zeider & Zeider and I said, 'I want something sharp!' I said, 'I'm kind of in the market, in the neighborhood of something like maybe some green gabardines with bonnaroo britches. And a leviticously deuteronomous sort of catastrophic
lunchbox Stetson, you know. I'd like to get some danger high-voltage slacks, with high top, mid-noon, brushed suede penny loafers, so I can be passing out wolf tickets regardless of where I go.' Walk into the Twenty-Grand Club... And the Soul & Inspirations are playing Yeah, and you're cutting a rug and pulling on a coat and emoting. Band is kicking into some long
version of 'Harlem Nocturne' or something You get designs on a girl in the corner
You say, 'Say baby... live around here?'
Yeah... I think I'm gonna plant you now and I'm gonna dig you later, make like a bakery truck and haul buns
Make like a hockey player and get the puck out of here
I gotta go see a man about a dog
I'll see you later
Thank you very much for coming this evening
Well... an inebriated good evening to you all. Welcome to Raphael's Silver Cloud Lounge. Slip me a lil' crimson, Jimson. Gimme the low-down, Brown. Now what's the scoop, Betty Boop? I'm on my way into town. Christ, while we're at it, I want to thank Dawna for opening the program for us. I'm so goddam horny that the crack of dawn better be careful around me! Yeah... I wanna pull on your coat about somethin' here tonight. Yeah, a little news I'd like to throw in your direction. See, I... I used to know a girl... Yeah, and it was a hubba-hubba and ding ding ding, I said baby you got everything. A week later it was a hubba-hubba and ding ding dong, baby it sure didn't last too long. I know, things are tough all over, and they ain't getting any better. I was moved to kinda squib a little bit of kind of an emotional weather forecast for you this evening. What I'm talking about is, well you know, I've been playing night clubs and staying out all night long. Comin' home late. Gone for three months, come back and everything in your refrigerator turns into a science project. So you get designs on a waitress, you know? She got three or four kids. She's sorting out her checks and she's counting out her change. You say, 'Hey baby, heat me up a bear claw on the radar range.' Well, then it gets real cold...
EMOTIONAL WEATHER REPORT
What we're talking about is late night and early morning low clouds
With a chance of fog, chance of showers into the afternoon
With variable high cloudiness and gusty winds
Gusty winds at times around the corner of Sunset and Alvarado
Yeah, I know, things are tough all over
When the thunder storms start increasing over the
Southeast and South Central portions of my apartment, I get upset
And a line of thunderstorms was developing in the early morning hours ahead of a slow moving cold front,
Cold-blooded
With tornado watches issued shortly before noon Sunday for the areas including the western region of my mental health
And the northern portion of my ability to deal rationally with my disconcerted precarious emotional situation
It's cold out there
Colder than the ticket taker's smile at the Ivar Theatre, on Saturday night
Flash flood watches cover the southern portion of my disposition, yeah
There was no severe weather well into the afternoon
Except for kind of a lone gust of wind in the bedroom
A high pressure zone covering the eastern portion of a small suburban community with a 1034 millibar high pressure zone
And a weak pressure ridge extending from my eyes down to my cheeks
'Cause since you left me baby and put the vice grips on my mental health
Well, the extended outlook for an indefinite period of time until you come back to me, baby, is high tonight, low tomorrow
And precipitation is expected
That wraps up the weather for this evening.
Now back to the eleven o'clock blues.
Doctor George Fishbeck ain't got nothing on me!
INTRO
Well, I think it's about time I took you on an improvisational adventure into the bowels of the Metropolitan region. Looks like a bona fide high voltage decked out in full regalia Angelino audience, driving in Subarus, Pintos, Malibus, Oldsmobiles. A small suburban community. This is kinda 'bout two thirty in the morning. You been standing on the corner of 5th and Vermouth, and you climb into the helm of a 1958 monkey-shit brown Buick Super, and you're on your way home. A luxury automobile, bought at Dollar Bill's Easy Autos for next to nothin'. You're cruisin' along, everything's goin' fine. Put a little smooth music on the stereo. Light up an Old Gold, save the coupon! Gotta think in terms of that patio furniture and that Toro mower, man. Yeah. You're on the Santa Monica freeway headed in an easterly direction, you just passed the La Cienega good turn-off, and you run into a cold fogbank...
ON A FOGGY NIGHT
It was all upon a foggy night, an abandoned road
In a twilight mirror mirage
With no indication of any kind of service station
Or an all-night garage
I was misinformed, I was misdirected
‘Cause the interchange never intersected
Leaving me marooned beneath a bloodshot moon
All upon a foggy night, a foggy night
All upon a foggy night
It was kind of an abandoned road, in a blurred brocade collage
Is that a road motel, I can't really tell
You gotta tell me, is that a vacancy lodge
There's no consolation, what kind of situation
To be aimlessly askew amidst a powder blue
No tell-tale light clue
Spun just like the spell you spin
This precarious pandemonium
Roslyn, I'm stranded, all upon a foggy night
Like a sweepstakes ticket for a Broadway arcade
Heads you win, tails I lose
I'm rambling, I'm gambling
All upon a foggy night, foggy night
Foggy night, foggy night
You got the vice grips on my personality
It's all upon a foggy night
All upon a foggy night
All upon a foggy night
On a foggy night
All upon a foggy
All upon a foggy night
INTRO
I was always uh... kinda wanted like to consider myself kind of a pioneer of the palate. A restaurateur if you will. I've wined, dined, sipped and supped in some of the most demonstrably demi-epitomable bistros in the Los Angeles metropolitan region. Uh-huh-huh-huh... Yeah, I've had strange looking pattie melts at Norm's. I've had dangerous veal cutlets at the Copper Penny. Well, what you get is a breaded Salisbury steak and a Shake'n'Bake, and topped with a provocative sauce of Velveeta and half-and-half..., uh-huh-huh-huh. Smothered with Campbell's tomato soup. Huh-huh-huh-huh... You see, I had kind of a uh... well, I ordered my veal cutlet, Christ it left the plate and it walked down to the end of the counter. (...?...) waitress (...?...), boy she's wearing those rhinestone glasses with the little pearl thing clipped on her sweater. The veal cutlet come down trying to beat the shit out of my cup of coffee but... Coffee just wasn't strong enough to defend itself. Uh-huh-huh-huh...
EGGS AND SAUSAGE (IN A CADILLAC WITH SUSAN MICHELSON)
Nighthawks at the diner of Emma's Forty-Niner
There's a rendezvous of strangers around the coffee urn tonight
All the gypsy hacks and the insomniacs
Now the paper's been read, now the waitress said
“Eggs and sausage and a side of toast
Coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy
Chile in a bowl with burgers and fries
What kind of pie? Yeah...”
It's a graveyard charade, it's a late shift masquerade
And it's two for a quarter, dime for a dance
Woolworth's rhinestone diamond earrings and a sideway’s glance
Now the register rings, now the waitress sings
“Eggs and sausage and a side of toast
Coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy
Chile in a bowl with burgers and fries
What kind of pie? Yeah”
Now well, the classified section offers no direction
It's a cold caffeine in a nicotine cloud
Now the touch of your fingers lingers burning in my memory
I've been eighty-sixed from your scheme
Now I'm in a melodramatic nocturnal scene
Now I'm a refugee from a disconcerted affair
Now the lead pipe morning falls, now the waitress calls
“Eggs and sausage, another side of toast
Coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy
Chile in a bowl with burgers and fries
Now what kind of pie?”
À la mode if you will
Just come in and join the crowd
Had some time to kill, yeah
You see, I just come in to join the crowd
Had some time to kill
Just come in to join the crowd
‘Cause I had some time to kill
INTRO
For all the bachelors out there tonight. Yeah, for anybody who's ever whistled this song... Or maybe you've whistled it but you've lost the sheet music. Eh-heh-heh-heh. This is eh.... Well, actually, I don't mind going to weddings or anything. As long as it's not my own, I show up. But, eh... I've always kind of been partial to calling myself up on the phone and asking myself out. You know... Oh yeah, you call yourself up too, huh? Yeah... Well, one thing about it, you're always around! Yeah, I know. Yeah, you ask yourself out, you know. Some class joint somewhere. The Burrito King or something. You know... Well, I ain't cheap, you know. Take yourself out for a couple of drinks maybe, you know. Then you'll be... some provocative conversation on the way home. And park in front of the house, you know, and you... Oh yeah, you´re smooth with it... you know, you put a little nice music on. Maybe you put on like... you know... like shopping music, something that's not too interruptive, you know. And then, you know, and eh... slide over real nice, you know, say, 'Oh, I think you have something in your eye'. Eh-heh-heh. Well, maybe it's not that romantic with you, but Christ, I... you know! It ain't... you know... Take myself up to the porch, and take myself inside. Oh, maybe... I make a little something, a brandy snifter or something. Would you like to listen to some of my back records. I got something here... Well, usually about 2.30 in the morning you've ended up taking advantage of yourself and... there ain't no way around that, you know. Yeah, making the scene with a magazine, there ain't no way around... I'll confess, you know, I'm no different, you know. I'm not weird about it or anything. I don't tie myself up first, I just... you know. I just kind of... spend a little time with myself. So this is kind of a little anthem here...
BETTER OFF WITHOUT A WIFE
All my friends are married
Every Tom and Dick and Harry
You must be strong if you're to go it alone
Here's to the bachelors and the Bowery bums
Those who feel that they're the ones
That are better off without a wife
‘Cause I like to sleep until the crack of noon
Midnight howling at the moon
Going out when I want to,
And I'm coming home when I please
Don't have to ask permission
If I wanna go out fishing
Never have to ask for the keys
I've never been no Valentino
But I had a girl who lived in Reno
Left me for a trumpet player
Well, it didn't get me down
He was wanted for assault
And though he said it weren't his fault
You know the coppers rode him right out of town
I'll be sleeping until the crack of noon
Midnight howling at the moon
And I'll be going out when I want to
Coming home when I please
Don't have to ask permission
If I wanna go out fishing
Never have to ask for the keys
Yeah, you see I'm kinda selfish about my privacy
Now as long as I can be with me
We get along so well I can't even believe it
I love to chew the fat with folks
I'll be listening to all your dirty jokes
I'm so thankful for these friends I do receive
I'll be sleeping until the crack of noon
Midnight howling at the moon
And I'll be going out when I want to
Coming home when I please
Don't have to ask permission
If I wanna go out fishing
Never have to ask for the keys, no
Hey, I got this girl I know, man, and I just
She's been married several times and
I don't wanna end up like her
I mean, she's been married so many times
She's got rice-marks all over her face
Yeah, you know the kind
NIGHTHAWK POSTCARDS (FROM EASY STREET)
Goodness gracious, my bass player should be chained up somewhere. Mongrel... canine... growl.
I wanna take you on kind of an inebriational travelogue here Yeah, ain't got no spare, you ain't got no jack You don't give a shit, you ain't never comin' back. Maybe you're standin' on the corner of 17th and Wazee Streets. Out in front of the Terminal Bar There's a Thunderbird movin' in a muscatel sky... He-he. You've been drinkin' cleanin' products all night... Open for suggestions... Eh-he-he-he. It's kinda 'bout... well it's kinda 'bout goin' down to the corner. Say, 'Well, I'm just goin' down to the corner to get a pack of cigarettes, I'll be back in a minute'
Yeah, you check out the street and it looks like there's kind of a..., kind of a blur drizzle down the plate glass
And as a neon swizzle stick is stirring up the sultry night air
Looks like a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue ball moon
Rolling maverick across an obsidian sky
And as the buses go groaning and wheezing
Down on the corner I'm freezing
On a restless boulevard at a midnight road
I'm across town from Easy Street
With the tight knots of moviegoers and out-of-towners on the stroll
The buildings towering high above lit like dominoes or black dice
Used car salesmen dressed up in Purina checkerboard slacks and Foster Grant wraparounds
Pacing in front of Rainbow, Earl Scheib, thirty-nine ninety-five merchandise.
Like barkers at a shooting gallery
They throw out a Texas Guinan routine:
“Hello sucker, we like your money, just as well as anybody else's here
Come on over here now...
Let me put the cut back in your strut and the glide back in your stride
Now climb aboard a customs Oldsmobile, let me take you for a ride”
Or they give you that P. T. Barnum bit:
“There's a sucker born every minute!”
“You just happened to be coming along at the right time, you know, come over here now”
And you know, all the harlequin sailors are on the stroll
In search of like new, new paint
And decent factory air and AM-FM dreams.
Yeah, and all the piss yellow gypsy cabs
They're stacked up in the taxi zones
And they're waiting like pinball machines
To be ticking off a joyride to a magical place
Like Truckers Welcome diners
With dirt lots full of Peterbilts and Kenworths and Jimmies and the like
They're hi-balling with bankrupt brakes
Man, they're overdriven and they're underpaid
They're overfed, and they're a day late and a dollar short
But Christ, I got my lips around a bottle
And I got my foot on the throttle and I'm standing on the corner
Standing on the corner like a just got in town Jasper
I'm on a street corner with a gasper
Looking for some kind of a Cheshire billboard grin
Stroking a goateed chin
Using parking meters as walking sticks
Yeah, on the inebriated stroll
With my eyelids propped open at half mast
But you know, over at "Chubb's Pool and Snooker"
Well, it was a nickel after two, yeah, it was a nickel after two
And in the cobalt steel blue dream smoke
Why, it was the radio that groaned out the hit parade
And the chalk squeaked and the floorboards creaked
And an Olympia sign winked through a torn yellow shade
Old Jack Chance himself leaning up against a Wurlitzer
Man, he was eyeballing out a five ball combination shot
Impossible you say? Hard to believe?
Perhaps out of the realm of possibility?
Naaaah
‘Cause he be stretching out long tawny fingers
Out across a cool green felt in a provocative golden gate
He got a full table railshot that's no sweat
And I leaned up against my banister
I wandered over to the Wurlitzer and I punched A2
I was looking for maybe 'Wine Wine Wine' by the Nightcaps
Starring Chuck E. Weiss
Or maybe... maybe a little something called "High Blood Pressure"
By George (Crying in the Streets) Perkins, no dice
'Cause that's life, that's what all the people say
You're riding high in April, you're seriously shot down in May
I know I'm gonna change that tune
When I'm standing underneath a buttery moon
That's all melted off to one side
Parkay
It was just about that time that the sun came crawling yellow
Out of a manhole at the foot of twenty-third Street
And a Dracula moon in a black disguise
Was making its way back to its pre-paid room at the St. Moritz Hotel
And the El train tumbled across the trestles
And it sounded like the ghost of Gene Krupa
With an overhead cam and glasspaks
And the whispering brushes of wet radials on wet pavement
Shhhhhhhhhhhhsh
With a traffic jam session on Belmont tonight
And the rhapsody of the pending evening
I leaned up against my banister
And I've been looking for some kind of an emotional investment
With romantic dividends
Yeah, kind of a physical negotiation is underway
As I attempt to consolidate all my missed weekly rendezvous
Into one low monthly payment, through the nose
With romantic residuals and legs akimbo
But the chances are that more than likely
Standing underneath a moon holding water
I'll probably be held over for another
Smashed weekend
Thank you
INTRO
Hey, how are you?
This is about a... well, I'd kinda reached the end of an emotional cul-de-sac one particular evening. It was a strange sort of evening. I ended up at a little vino place called The Three Little Pigs. Well, I was starin' at the beer nuts, and the swizzle sticks, and the three little pigs... I was gettin' a lot of visual and verbal insubordination from a double-knit character in the corner, and...
WARM BEER AND COLD WOMEN
...One of those nights
It's warm beer and cold women, no I just don't fit in
‘Cause every joint I stumbled into tonight, that's just how its been
All these double-knit strangers with gin and vermouth
And recycled stories, in the naugahyde booths
And the platinum blondes and tobacco brunettes
I'll just be drinking to forget you, I light another cigarette
And the band's playing something by Tammy Wynette
And the drinks are on me tonight
All my conversations now, I'll just be talking about you, baby
I'm boring some sailor as I try to get through
I just want him to listen now I say that's all you have to do
He said I'm better off without you, until I showed him my tattoo
And now the moon's rising, ain't no time to lose
Time to get down to drinking, tell the band to play the blues
And the drinks are on me, now I'll buy a couple of rounds
At the last ditch attempt saloon
Warm beer and cold women, no I just don't fit in
Every joint I stumble into tonight, that's just how it's been
All these double-knit strangers with gin and vermouth
Receding hairlines, in the naugahyde booths
And the platinum blondes and tobacco brunettes
I'll just be drinking to forget you, baby, I light a menthol cigarette
And the band's playing something by Johnnie Barnette
At the last ditch attempt saloon
INTRO
I wanna tell you a story here. It's about a place called Putnam County. Yeah... How's the service here? Yeah, it's all right? I mean, I gave you a beer and everything. Don't gotta pay or nothin'. Well, they hit you up at the door on your way out...
PUTNAM COUNTY
I guess things were always kind of quiet around Putnam County
Kind of shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the two-lane
That was stretched out just like an asphalt dance floor
Where all the old-timers in bib jeans and store bought boots
Were hunkering down in the dirt
To lie about their lives and the places that they'd been
And they'd suck on Coca Colas, yeah, and be spitting Day's Work
Until the moon was a stray dog on the ridge and...
And the taverns would be swollen until the naked eye of two a.m.
And the Stratocasters slung over the burgermeister beer guts
And swizzle-stick legs jackknifed over naugahyde stools... yeah
And the witch hazel spread out over the linoleum floors
And pedal-pushers stretched out over a midriff bulge
And the coiffed brunette curls over Maybelline eyes
Wearing Prince Machiavelli, or something yeah
Estee Lauder, smells so sweet
And I elbowed up at the counter with mixed feelings over mixed drinks
As Bubba and the Roadmasters moaned in pool hall concentration and...
And knit their brows to cover the entire Hank Williams songbook
Whether you like it or not
And the old National register was singing to the tune of fifty-seven dollars and fifty-seven cents, yeah
And then it's last call, one more game of eight-ball
Berniece'd be putting the chairs on the tables
And someone come in and say, 'Hey man, anyone got any jumper cables?'
'Is that a 6 or a 12 volt, man? I don't know...'
Yeah, and all the studs in town would toss 'em down
And claim to fame as they stomped their feet
Yeah, boasting about being able to get more ass than a toilet seat
And the GMC's and the Straight-8 Fords were coughing and wheezing
And they percolated as they tossed the gravel underneath the fenders
To weave home a wet slick anaconda of a two-lane
With tire irons and crowbars a-rattling
With a tool box and a pony saddle
You're grinding gears and you're shifting into first
Yeah, and that goddamned tranny's just getting worse, man
With the melody of see-ya-laters and screwdrivers on carburetors
Talking shop about money to loan
And palominos and strawberry roans, yeah
See ya tomorrow, hello to the Missus
With money to borrow and goodnight kisses
As the radio spit out Charlie Rich, man,
He sure can sing that son of a bitch
And you weave home, yeah, weaving home
Leaving the little joint winking in the dark warm narcotic American night
Beneath a pin cushion sky
And it's home to toast and honey, gotta start up the Ford, man
Yeah, and your lunch money's right over there on the draining board
And the toilet's running Christ, shake the handle
And the telephone is ringing, it's Mrs. Randall
And where the hell are my goddamned sandals?
What you mean, the dog chewed up my left foot?
With the porcelain poodles and the glass swans
Staring down from the knickknack shelf. yeah
And the parent's permission slips for the kids' field trips
Yeah, and a pair of mukluks scraping across the shag carpet, yeah
And the impending squint of first light
And it lurked behind a weeping marquee in downtown Putnam
Yeah, and it'd be pulling up any minute now
Just like a bastard amber Velveeta yellow cab on a rainy corner
And be blowing its horn in every window in town
SPARE PARTS I (A NOCTURNAL EMISSION)
Well, the dawn cracked hard just like a bullwhip
‘Cause it wasn't taking no lip from the night before
And it shook out the streets, as the stew bums showed up like bounced checks,
Rubbing their necks and the sky turned the color of Pepto-Bismol
Yeah, and the parking lots growled
My old sport coat full of promissory notes and a receipt from a late night motel
The hawk had his whole family out there in the wind
And he got a message for you to beware
Kicking your ass in, in a cold-blooded fashion
And dishing out more than a good man can bear
And I got shoes untied, my shirttail is out
Ain't got a ghost of a chance with this old romance
Just an apartment for rent down the block
Ivar Theater with live burlesque
Man, the manager's scowling, with his feet on the desk
Boom boom against the curtain, you're still hurting, ay-ay
And then push came to shove, and shove came to biff
Girls like that just lay you out stiff
Maybe I'll go to Cleveland and, you know, get me a tattoo or something
My brother-in-law lives there
And it's a skid mark tattoo on the asphalt blue
Was that a Malibu?
Vroooooom, vroooooom
Yeah, it's Liz Taylor and Montgomery Clift
Coming on to the broads with the same old riff, yeah
'Hey baby, why don't you come up to my place?
We'll listen to some smooth music on the stereo' eh-he-he'
'No thank you,' she said, eh-he-he, 'you got any Stan Getz records?'
'No man, I got eh... Smothers Brothers'
So I combed back my Detroit, jacked up my pegs
I wiped my Stacy Adams' and I jackknifed my legs
Yeah, I got designs on a moving violation
Yeah baby, you put me on hold and I'm out in the wind and it's getting mighty cold
It's colder than a gut-shot bitch wolf dog with nine sucking pups pulling a number-four trap up a hill in the dead of winter in the middle of a snowstorm with a mouth full of porcupine quills
Well, I don't need you, baby
You see, it's a well known fact, you know
I'm four sheets to the wind, I'm glad you're gone
I'm glad you're gone, cause I'm finally alone
Glad you're gone, but I wish you'd come home
Yeah, and I struggled out of bed
‘Cause the dawn was cracking hard just like a bullwhip
And it wasn't taking no lip from the night before
Yeah, as it shook out the streets and the stew bums showed up just like bounced checks,
Rubbing their necks and the sky turned the color of Pepto-Bismol
And my old sport coat full of promissory notes
And the hawk had his whole family out there in the wind
He got a message for you to beware
Kicking your ass in, in a cold blooded fashion
He'll be dishing out more than a good man can bear
Well let's take it to Bakersfield, get a little apartment somewhere
NOBODY
Nobody, nobody
Will ever love you the way I could love you
‘Cause nobody, nobody is that strong
Love is bittersweet
And life's treasures deep
And no one can keep a love that's gone wrong
Nobody, nobody
Will love you the way that I could
‘Cause nobody, nobody's that strong
‘Cause nobody is that strong
Nobody, nobody
Will ever love you the way I can love you
‘Cause nobody, nobody's that strong
You've had many lovers
You'll have many others
But they'll only just break your poor heart in two
Nobody, nobody
Will love you the way that I could
‘Cause nobody, nobody's that strong
‘Cause nobody is that strong
INTRO
Well now, it's story time again. I'm gonna tell you a story 'bout a truck driver. This story was written by a guy named Red Sovine, and it's called the Ballad of Big Joe and Phantom 309
BIG JOE AND PHANTOM 309
See, I just happened to be back on the East coast a few years back
I was trying to make me a buck like everybody else
I'll be damned if times didn't get hard, and Christ I got down on my luck
And I got tired of just roaming and bumming around
So I started thumbing my way back to my old hometown
And you know, I made quite a few miles in the first couple of days
You know, I figured I'd be home in a week if my luck held out this way
You know, it was the third night, oh and I got stranded
And it was out at a cold lonely crossroads
And as the rain came pouring down, man I was hungry
Yeah, I was hungry, tired and freezing, caught myself a chill
But it was just about that time
Yeah, it was just about that time that the lights of an old semi topped the hill
You should've seen me smile when I heard them air brakes come on
Yeah, and I climbed up into that cab where I knew it'd be warm
At the wheel... well, at the wheel sat a big man
And I'd have to say he must've weighed two ten
As he stuck out a big hand and he said with a grin
'Big Joe's the name, and this here rig is called Phantom 309'
Well, I asked him why he called his rig such a name
And you know, he turned to me and said
'Why son, don't you know this here rig'll be putting 'em all to shame
Nah, there ain't a driver
No, there ain't a driver on this or any other line for that matter that
That's seen nothing but the taillights of Big Joe and Phantom 309'
So we rode and we talked the better part of the night
And I told my stories and Joe told his
And I smoked up all his Viceroys as we rolled along
Pushed her ahead with ten forward gears
Man, that dashboard was lit like the old Madame La Rue pinball
Serious semi-truck
'Til almost mysteriously
Well, it was the lights of a truck stop that rolled into sight
Joe turned to me, said 'I'm sorry son, but I'm afraid this is just as far as you go, you see
You see, I kinda gotta be making a turn just up the road a piece'
I'll be damned if he didn't toss me a dime as he threw her in low and said
'Go on in there son, and get yourself a hot cup of coffee on Big Joe'
I mean to tell you, when Joe and his rig pulled off into the night
Man, in nothing flat they was clean outta sight
So I walked into this stop, well I ordered me up a cup of mud
Saying 'Big Joe's setting this dude up'
But it got so deadly quiet in that place
Yeah, it got so deadly quiet in that place, you could've heard a pin drop
And as the waiter's face turned kind of pale I said
'What's the matter, did I say something wrong?'
I kind of said with a half way grin
He said, 'No son, you see it'll kinda happen every now and then
'Cause every driver in here knows Big Joe, son, but
But let me tell you what happened just ten years ago out there
Yeah, it was ten years ago, out there at that cold lonely crossroads
And there was a whole busload of kids
And then they were just coming from school
And they were right in the middle when Joe topped the hill and
They could've been slaughtered except Joe turned his wheels
And he jackknifed, yeah he jackknifed, and he went into a skid
And you know, folks around here, well
They say he gave his life to save that bunch of kids
And out there at that cold lonely crossroads
Well, they're saying it was the end of the line for Big Joe and Phantom 309
But it's funny you know, cause... cause every now and then
Yeah, every now and then when the moon's holding water
Well, they say that old Joe'll stop and give you a ride
It seems, just like you, some hitchhiker will be coming by'
'So here, son,' he said to me, 'you get yourself another cup of coffee
It's on the house, I kind of want you to hang on to that dime
Yeah, I kind of want you to hang on to that dime as a souvenir
I want you to keep that dime as a souvenir of Big Joe
Of Big Joe and Phantom
Big Joe and Phantom 309
SPARE PARTS II AND CLOSING
I want to thank you all very much for coming this evening. It really made my night. It would have been real strange here if nobody would have showed up
I'd like to introduce my group this evening and it's been a real preasure, a preasure and a plivilege to work with these gentlemen
I'd like to introduce, please give a warm round of applause for Michael Melvoin on piano!
On saxophone, Pete Christlieb
On bass, Jim Hughart
And on drums, Bill Goodwin
Yeah
They all come from good families, but over the years they just kind of individually developed some ways about them that just aren't right, you know
I was real pleased, I noticed everybody coming in this evening you're all decked out in full regalia and everything and I appreciate you getting dressed up for an affair such as this. You know, I think it's something that I've always tried to be as concerned about as possible and somebody said to me one day 'Christ, Waits! You look so goddamned raggedy, why don't you get yourself something to wear, you know?'
I said, 'Yeah well, not a bad idea' Maybe a serious seersucker Saturday evening cranberry accoutrement ensemble would be nice.
So I went down to Zeider & Zeider and I said, 'I want something sharp!' I said, 'I'm kind of in the market, in the neighborhood of something like maybe some green gabardines with bonnaroo britches. And a leviticously deuteronomous sort of catastrophic
lunchbox Stetson, you know. I'd like to get some danger high-voltage slacks, with high top, mid-noon, brushed suede penny loafers, so I can be passing out wolf tickets regardless of where I go.' Walk into the Twenty-Grand Club... And the Soul & Inspirations are playing Yeah, and you're cutting a rug and pulling on a coat and emoting. Band is kicking into some long
version of 'Harlem Nocturne' or something You get designs on a girl in the corner
You say, 'Say baby... live around here?'
Yeah... I think I'm gonna plant you now and I'm gonna dig you later, make like a bakery truck and haul buns
Make like a hockey player and get the puck out of here
I gotta go see a man about a dog
I'll see you later
Thank you very much for coming this evening
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