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Santa Ana Winds
Steve Goodman, Jimmy lbbotson, Jeff Hanna
Big Ears Music,lnc./ Red Pajamas Music,lnc (ASCAP)
(Good morning Jim and Jeff.) Every day, hundreds of young women
from around the world come to the Los Angeles area to become
famous. The girl in this song lives to talk about it. Special
thanks to Kris Kristofferson, one of the greatest people in the
world,
She is history,
No one will give her a star on the walk,
She'd have a hundred if pillows could talk,
Where have I seen her before?
She's the face on the cutting room floor.
Life's no mystery,
Acting in school at the tenderest age,
Lit up the room when she walked on the stage,
Came to L.A. for some more,
Little face on the cutting room floor.
And she had visions of contracts
And thousands of people in line. . . to see her.
Knockin' on door after door after all of this time,
She's not sure.
Up in Hollywood,
Signed with an agent she met in a bar,
Laughed when he told her he'd make her a star,
Where had she heard that before?
Little face on the cutting room floor.
One night he told her she'd never get anywhere
In her clothes.
He said,'That's what it takes to play movieland musical chairs',
So now she knows.
Goodbye Hollywood,
Leavin'tonight an the 2:30 'Hound,
Sunrise on Sunset she won't be around,
I guess that settles the score.
And they'll replace her with two or three more,
She's the face on the cutting room floor.
Words: Steve Goodman Music Steve Goodman, David Grisman Big Ears
Music,lnc./ Red Pajamas Music,inc. JASCAP)
I know these machines have become a fact of life, but their
abuse is twice as frustrating as no answer at all. I'll bet I'm
missing a lot of important calls by not owning one. Sure.
Thanks for the Bluegrass tip, Dawg.
I used to dial your number,
We used to say hello,
We'd shoot the breeze
And bum off someone's ears that we both know.
Then you got tired of talking,
And you needed an escape,
So you went and laid your money down
For this telephone answering tape.
Now you leave it on every night and day
So you can screen your calls,
You erase the ones you don't really care about at all.
You play that tape like it was something you were born to do.
Sometimes I think maybe girl it's the tape that's playing you.
(CHORUS)
Well you'd better wake up Miss hard-to-get,
I'm a waitin' on the other end,
You can put the world on hold
But you can't hold a friend.
If you ever want to put this conversation back in shape,
Don't call me cuz I'll call you
When you take off that tape.
Now I dialed your number,
Cuz I know you won't be home.
And I get to get it off my chest
As soon as I hear the tone.
I'll tell that tape the words
I couldn't say right to your face.
You're gonna find out how I feel
When you play back that tape.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
Steve Goodman
Big Ears Music,liic / Red Pajamas Mtjsic.Inc (ASCAP)
This is an older song. once a duet, dangling again from a
precarious hook. Good for singles bars and bait farms
There were two old middle aged men,
They were sittin , in the corner bar.
They were all lying about what wonderful lovers they are.
Bending each other's ears,
Bending their elbows too.
Holding their arms apart
The way that fishermen do, singin'
(CHORUS)
You should have seen the one that got away,
Oh you should have seen the one that got away.
There were two old middle aged women,
And they were sitting in the beauty salon.
Waiting for their nails to dry,
And puttin' each other on.
Trading their recipes,
All of the ways to save
A hundred and one night stands
With a brand new permanent wave, singin'
(REPEAT CHORUS)
Hindsight makes the heart grow fonder,
But that's what it costs
When you run around sayin' "I love you"
With your fingers crossed.
And it's too late to go back now
And that's just about as good as it gets,
For Rock'N'Roll Romeos and their juke box Juliets.
And you can see them out on the street
Trying to figure out what it all means.
When they try to make their lives complete
In the safety of their dreams.
By putting their arms around the one that got away.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
Steve Goodman, Jimmy Ibbotson, Jeff Hanna
Big Ears Music,inc./ Red Pajamas Music,lnc. (ASCAP
(Good afternoon Jim and Jeff ) No, riot Boy George on tout just
a tribute to all the ol' ladies in Easy Rider Magazifie Special
chopper credit to Billy Elkins, Phil ' Mangler" Kaufman, Chet
McCracken, and Jack White. Say it ain't so, ore'
Standing in the doorway with her hand on her hip,
Eyes like the beacons on a rocket ship,
Just about the bottom of a bottle of gin,
She baits her hook and she reels them in.
She' s got a black leather jacket with a patch on the back
No imitation cajun going to get to that.
A red bandana, a rose tatoo,
A mind of her own
There's no one telling her what to do,
Diamonds, pearls they're for all the other girls,
Now some of'em just don't need 'em, you can keep 'em
(CHORUS)
She goes putt, putt,
That's my queen,
Putt, putt,
Putt, putt, on that big machine.
When the light turns green
Putt, putt, she's so mean,
And nothing can stop my putt, putt,
Queen of the road.
If you want to roll the dice you can try your luck,
She could melt the ice off an ice cream truck.
You can't holler uncle when you had enough.
Her own brother won't fight her
Cause the girl's so tough,
Devil of an angel, she's one of a kind.
Gotta knuckle-head Harley and a one track mind,
Roadhouse reputation everywhere she goes,
As a big sled rider, she's the queen of the road.
From Pomona to Daytona,
Hey, hey, and every highway in between,
There's not and one of 'am she ain't seen,
Well, you know what I mean.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
Now when the music's playing she can't sit still,
She loves the boogie-woogie and she always will.
Her three favorite songs are "God Bless the Child",
"My Generation" and "Born to be Wild".
When the party's over and the lights go on,
Don't have to try to find her
Cause the girl is gone,
She slips it into second and away she goes,
My motor-headed mama is the queen of the road.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
Steve Goodman
Big Ears Music,lnc / Red Pajamas Music,lnc. (ASCAP)
This is the song that proves timing is everything, almost. All
kudos to Emmylou Harris who made it work, and Steve (great
steel) Fishell who made it possible.
When Johnny got the letter
It had no return address,
But he recognized the writing
And he didn't have to guess.
The postmark said Seattle
Just a thousand miles away,
So he put it in the drawer
For fourteen days.
Every night he'd take that envelope
And hold it up to the light,
But he never tore it open to see what lay inside.
He remembered how it hurt
The night she turned and walked away,
So he kept the letter sealed
For fourteen days.
Fourteen days it lay unopened,
Fourteen days it stayed unread,
Fourteen nights he dreamed about her
In what use to be their bed.
Though his heart and soul were achin'
Johnny's pride got in the way,
So he kept the letter sealed
For fourteen days.
Then one night he couldn't stand it
Johnny took it from the drawer,
He read the words she'd sent to him
Just two short weeks before.
The tears fell hard as Johnny read
The words she had to say,
'Boy I'm coming home to you in fourteen days".
'Dear John: I know I hurt you, but I pray that you'll forgive.
And if you don't take me back again, then, I don't want to live.
If you're there when I step off the plane,
Then I'll be yours, always.
I arrive at four p.m. in fourteen days."
Johnny raced out to the airport
On the chance that she might wait,
But the terminal was empty
And he knew he was too late.
He cursed himself for letting his one true love slip away,
For a letter that he held for fourteen days.
Fourteen days it lay unopen,
Fourteen days it stayed unread,
Fourteen nights he dreamed about her
And the good times that they had.
And Johnny knew he lost her
And there was nothing left to say,
He tore up the note he'd held for fourteen days.
Now the next day in Seattle
The morning headline read,
'Another Jane Doe Suicide - Young Girl Lying Dead.'
Scrawled upon the crumpled piece of paper where she lay,
"I'm coming home to you in fourteen days.'
Steve Goodman, Maple Byrne
Big Ears Music,lnc./ Red Pajamas Music,lnc. JASCAP)
Maple Byrne is a road-person with numerous backstage and tour
credits including Steve Martin and me. An unreconstructed
Deadhead, he threw me the title in the van one night. The song
appeared moments later, and was finished in the nick of time for
Jethro Burns' Minneapolis PBS T.V. show.
Some people sit in the jacuzzi
Every night and every day,
They think that boiling water
Will take all their blues away.
To be successful is so stressful,
So the hottentots unwind,
And party, party, party
While they're boiling their behinds.
But not me,
I like my lobsters in the sea.
I get my power from the shower,
Cause I'm a hot tub refugee.
They cannot see the danger
As they watch the bubbles rise,
So they sit and soak for hours
Till they're hot tub hypnotized.
And they say it's so romantic
And the only way to score,
Is to bathe with thirty people
That you've never met before.
But not me,
That's just one place I'll never be.
I'm just a hermit with a permit
To be a hot tub refugee.
I've tried the tubs in Aspen
Where the bunnies go to ski,
And the tubs in California
Full of wet celebrities.
But I swear a hot tub party
Makes my heart begin to droop,
As I watch all those sweet young tomatoes
Try to turn themselves to soup.
But not me,
My onions mean too much to me.
And my soul is saturated,
I'm just a hot tub refugee.
Steve Goodman, Bill LaBounty
Big Ears Music,lnc./ Red Pajamas Music,lnc.(ASCAP); Captain
Crystal Music, Inc. (BMI)
Written wi h Bill LaBounty, a man who can actually hear music in
the air. He's one of the most talented and least appreciated
singer-songwriters in the business. There Bill, I said it.
Now, give me the money.
You want me to leave,
Well maybe you're right.
You had what it was that you wanted tonight.
Now you liked the party
But after the ball,
You want to be free to feel nothing at all.
(CHORUS)
I just keep falling in love,
I should know better
But I don't know better.
How can one night be enough?
I just keep falling in love.
You tell me I'm crazy,
Now maybe that's true.
I can't hide the way
That I feel about you.
So why should I wonder
Why nobody cares?
Here in the sad state
Of casual affairs.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
Traditional
Arranged by Steve Goodman and Jim Rothermel
This is a favorite folk song of my brother and my children No,
that's not the late Art Pepper on sax-it's Jim Rothermel, a
versatile and underrecorded player He's also a valued friend.
There Jim, I said it Now, go got some money from LaBounty and
bring it to me
One evening as the sun went down and the jungle
fires were burnin',
Down the track came a hobo hikin',
He said boys I'm not turnin'.
I'm headed for a land that's far away beside the crystal
fountain,
And I'll see you all this coming fall in the big rock candy
mountain.
In the big rock candy mountains,
There's a land that's fair and bright,
The hand-outs grow on bushes,
And you sleep out every night.
The boxcars are all empty,
And the sun shines every day.
I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow,
Where the rain don't fall and the wind don't blow,
In the big rock candy mountains.
(CHORUS)
Oh, the buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees,
By the soda water fountain.
Where the lemonade springs and the bluebird sings,
In the big rock candy mountains.
In the big rock candy mountains you never wash your socks,
And little streams of alcohol come tricklin' down the rocks,
The boxcars are all empty,
The sun shines every day,
There's a lake of stew and ginger ale too,
And you can paddle all around it in a big canoe,
In the big rock candy mountains.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
In the big rock candy mountains the cops have wooden legs,
The bulldogs all have rubber teeth,
And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs.
There's no short handled shovels,
No axes, saws, or picks.
Well I'm bound to stay where you sleep all day,
Where they hung the jerk who invented work,
In the big rock candy mountains.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
Steve Goodman, Mary Gaffney, Mike Jordan
Big Ears Music,lnc / Red Pajamas Music,inc @ASCAP)
Way out West, where the air is rare, the wind blows two ways:
cool to cold from the Pacific Ocean, and hot to unbearable from
the deserts and canyons to the East. Written from roasted
memory with friends Mary Gaffney and Mike Jordan in Chicago,
where wind is understood
All day long I just sit around the house,
And watch the world go by, my oh my.
Since I lost her, nothing moves me,
Though I try, I don't know why.
L.A. weather hot and hazy,
Maybe that's what's got me crazy.
(CHORUS)
How I wish those dusty Santa Ana winds
Could come and carry me,
Out to sea.
Just like hot flashes, Santa Anas
Come and rescue me,
From her memory.
I want to let my feelings go,
I want to feel that jetstream blow.
When the sun goes down and I get out of bed,
Say I'll be all right, tonight's my night.
Walk past that picture, see her face,
And then I change my mind, happens every time,
I don't know why I can't get started,
I was fine till she departed.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
Steve Goodman
Big Ears Music,inc./ Red Pajamas Music,lnc.(ASCAP)
Carl Martin was the greatest entertainer I ever played with. He
appears on serveral (Flying Fish and Yazoo) records, with or
without his cronies Ted Bogan and Howard Armstrong lwrite to
those labels for details). Carl and I became friends in the
early Seventies, and his inspiration rules my musical character
to this day. He's gone now, but I will never forget the night
he met my grandmother at 'The Earl of Old Town.' Neither will
she. The mandolin player on this record is Jethro Burns:
everyone's idol, even Carl's.
I remember when I met Carl Martin,
It must have been a dozen years ago.
A spectacular gent, he was old and bent,
But his eyes had a fiery glow.
He was born April Fools Day, 1906,
Near Big Stone Gap, VA.
He could play a little fiddle
And some blues guitar he'd picked up along the way.
But once he got his hands on a mandolin,
He lit up like a Christmas tree.
Along with Ted Bogan and Howard Armstrong
They were the best string band I ever did see.
For fifty odd years they played rent parties
Road houses, concerts, festivals too.
At the drop of a hat these three black cats
Would play every song they knew.
It was 'Lady Be Good' and 'The Barnyard Dance"
And "The Ice Cream Freezer Blues".
They'd bring the oldest chestnuts out
And make 'am all sound brand new.
And the little white boys with their shiny guitars,
Would follow right along at their heels.
They learned the words and they learned the chords
But they never did get the feel.
Now I asked Carl once how he got the fire.
He said, 'Boy, you've got to understand,
If you want to be someone, you've gotta have some fun,
So you better get it while you can.'
(CHORUS)
You better get it while you can,
You better get it while you can.
If you wait too long, it'll all be gone
And you'll be sorry then.
It doesn't matter if you're rich or poor,
It's the same for a woman or a man.
From the cradle to the crypt
It's a mighty short trip,
So you better get it while you can.
Now Carl always had a way to make the good times roll
When the rest of us weren't so sure.
He'd just pick out the prettiest woman in the room
And sing every song to her.
One night back East when the gig was done
There was an all night blow-out jam.
We Played and we sang and drank for hours,
Till the sun came up again.
It was blues and ballads, Ragtime, Dixieland and Swing,
Some old time show tunes.
And then Carl Martin sang some songs nobody else knew
And some I haven't heard since then.
Right before dawn he did two more songs
Just to separate the strong from the faint.
It was a red-hot rendition of "The Old Pine Tree"
And a double-time version of 'The Saints'.
And when they were done those of us who could still breath
Took off our hats to that man.
Carl played us under the table that night
And he said, 'You better get it while you can'.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
You know Carl and his buddies never got too far,
When he died Martin didn't have a dime.
He was a little behind on his payments,
And a little bit ahead of his time.
Last week a group of us so-called musicians
Sat up real late and burned one down.
The liquor kept coming and we kept strumming
Till a minute or two before dawn.
There were some who stayed and some who faded,
Till soon I was left all alone.
I don't believe in ghosts - but I could swear
I heard Carl Martin sing one more song.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
