The Song

A song for late spring even if it is coming out in the dead of winter.

The Players

Kurt Dahle drums
John Collins bass percussion harmonium
Stevie guitars piano vocals percussion

The Writers

The Company

The Words

Bring out the summer in me, bring out the colours you see
Bring out your comic book smile you wore as a child
Bring out the answer to me, a one hundred and eighty degree
Turn around, seasons and days, lets get lost in the haze
I’ve been set in my ways

Bring out your books, bring out your looks
Bring out the answer to me
Something more has happened today
I love you it turned out that way
So what can I say?

Remember the time that I fell, for you it meant nothing at all
Playing at dead man’s fall, you ran down the hall
Bring out your caricatures, bring out the best of what’s left
A description of youth, a laughter not fading away
It means something to me

Bring out your books, bring out your looks
Bring out the answer to me
Something more has happened today
I love you it turned out that way
Bring out your books, bring out your looks
Bring out the colours for me
Something more has happened today
I love you it turned out that way
So what can I say

The Song

Rick and I would double track with two tape recorders, making little albums with titles like The Grand Encounter and Syd Wympey Rocks. We had fun imagining our solo careers making up album titles for later life. I had one called Jackson Viking he had one called Richie Now.

The Players

Kurt Dahle drums
John Collins bass
Stevie guitars piano vocals
Rose Melberg vocals

The Writers

Stevie Jackson / Roy Moller

The Words

He was my Best Friend at school
He was handsome and cool
Why Richie, won’t Richie, say where is Richie Now?

The girls would all follow him home
The bad boys would leave him alone
Why Richie, won’t Richie, say where is Richie Now?

He has every Beatle record and me I only had one…
The ‘Twist and Shout’ EP from 1963
He talked of ‘Rubber Soul’ and wonder would unfold.

At lunchtime we played our guitars
We dreamed of being stars
Why Richie, won’t Richie, say where is Richie Now?

“Worry, worry, worry, don’t you worry
Everything is sure to go our way
Talks never cheap and our thoughts are always streamed
In our own mind
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry
Hurry, hurry, hurry on our way
The past is behind us, it’s also up ahead so don’t delay”

Though we dreamed the air of magic
The magic failed to recognize us
Tried to seize the day, the days got in the way
They hurtled past, our plans all went astray

We were so youthful and bold
We never thought we’d grow old

Why Richie, won’t Richie, say where is Richie?
Come back and play and we’ll know where we’re going
Why Richie, won’t Richie, say where is Richie Now?

The Song

A simple guitar song dealing with the usual popular song aspiration stuff: “Try me,” “Give me a Try,” “It’s me that you need,” etc. Might seem a bit strong for a late thirty-something narrator singing of such things. To me, it makes a lot of sense apart from the line about the Doctor. My Doctor knows me well and prescribes accordingly. That aside the words ring true.

I was running it down with the Company and Gary out of nowhere started chanting:
“Like a swan I’ll come running to you, like a swan I’ll fly away”
EXACTLY! I had to laugh. The reality of the political nature of aspirational relationships nailed for all to see. I guess you could say that’s my favourite line.

The Players

Katrina Mitchell drums
Bill Wells bass
Bob Kildea lead guitar vocals percussion
Stevie guitar vocals
Sarah Martin organ
Roy Moller vocals

The Writers

The Company

The Words

Got a tattoo back in ’93 the name is fading away so Try Me
I lost my compass, I was all out at sea, now I’m close to the coast Try Me
At 37 I was still in your tree, I’d pass for 33 so Try Me
I got pills and I’m looking for thrills
At the same time I want to start a family Try Me Try Me

To the Doctor at the end of my day, he didn’t know what to say to me
A Brief Encounter that you didn’t foresee and it’s shaking your station Try me
Don’t vote where you don’t belong, the theme of this song is Try Me
I wish it was 1964, I’m still stuck in ’63 maybe next year Try Me, Try Me

Like a swan I’ll come running to you, like a swan I’ll fly away.

The Song

Taken from a group of songs written about movie directors. Written for John Huston, the wives of John Huston and, errr, me! I don’t know how I ended up in there recalling people that have been to the point: people to this day, I still admire despite the pain they’ve caused me. Why should it cause pain? A fudged consciousness to blame, maybe? I guess it makes me think of my desire for an ordered, balanced and productive life. It’s hard not to quote Dylan at this point:
“I tried my best not to hurt anyone and to steer clear of a life of crime.”
I’ve been hurt but I’ve also caused hurt. Can you learn from both of them? Is the first lesson that they are the same thing?

The Players

John Clark bass acoustic guitar percussion
Stevie keys elec sitar vocals
Bob Kildea percussion
Ysla Robertson violin
Gillian Risi violin

The Writers

Stevie Jackson / Roy Moller

The Words

Here comes the wayward Son and he’s going to find direction at last
“Hey kids kick it all around cause I’m going to read my paper before I look through the lens”
Like Hemmingway would always say
“ Hey, you know, you know that the Man makes the work”
Your naysayers don’t get your groovin’ as your reaching for your elephant gun

He was just, just, just, just, just so to the point it’s scary
Just so, say it isn’t “Uh Ho”
Just so to the point it’s scary
TO THE POINT, it’s scary

Girl One, she loved you true and you were lost in her smile till along came number Two
Sense a rift, you didn’t write it in the script
Then came number Three and she’s lapping up your Cocktail Blues
Showed the door to number Four
Cute little number, you were looking for a higher score
Met a Crocodile, happy for a little while
Now she’s getting snappy and she’s making allegations

Just, just, just, just so to the point it’s scary
She dropped the bomb with her usual aplomb (sing her a long song)
She was just so to the point it’s scary
TO THE POINT it’s scary

Listen John you could my Saviour, making with my Flavia
Scenes from Scandinavia
Winds blow, she come from the Seven Seas
Uh oh, Vikings in the Hebrides
Press keys, spell check, press send, “We still friends?”
No reply, guts spilled, she’s strong willed, it’s not a thrill to love her

A broken heart, I headed for a foreign land
A New York Tempeh sandwhich so take me to Angelica’s (300 East 12th Street)
Houston we don’t have a problem, Tom Hanks, no thanks
To the promise of a better world (Goodbye Apollo 13)
Cute girl said “Come to Philadelphia”
I took the Gamble then she took the Huff
Mancunian Polish Sex Priestess, pulled down her dress said
“Enough is enough”

She was just, she was just, just, just, just so to the point it’s scary
She dropped the bomb with her usual aplomb
She was just so to the point it scared me
TO THE POINT it scared me

Hey John, I’m kissing out of tune, won’t you tell me your prescription, tell me what I’m missing
“Hey Boy, you gotta hear what I say, you gotta fill your ears with marrow from a cow killed in the hay”
May Horse, she’s a mean little apple
Hatful, capful, 3 bushel bagfuls
Hold my hand let’s pray to the saints
She said
“Get yourself a backbone, you ain’t no invertebrate”

The Song

Actions, directions, corners taken, history and present colliding. There is no youth, middle age, death when you look at it coldly and, obviously, subjectively. There is only the Now.

I was rehearsing with Belle and Sebastian and we got into a discussion about keys and whether or not they had distinctive attributes. I thought of this song, it’s in F. I don’t play piano very well but on that instrument F feels like a proper key or at least in my perception, this feels like a proper song, whatever that means.

I had the words written out and was hitting the keys randomly in the company of Roy Moller to see if anything would come. Suddenly we got the idea of pretending to be Elton and the tune came in a flash. I guess something has to become unhinged in your brain to sing lines like “Lovers, friends, let friends be lovers” but there you go, means a lot to me too. I guess you got to approach something like this with a smile. Roy described the piece as “a tasty album cut.” I knew what he meant and we can only live in hope.

The Players

Katrina Mitchell drums
Bill Wells bass
Bob Kildea guitars vocals percussion
Stevie piano organ pedal steel vocals
John Clark elec piano

The Writers

Stevie Jackson / Roy Moller

The Words

Sitting with my lunchbox, plain bread “Mother’s Pride”
Brown crust on the outside
I couldn’t take my eyes off her
She was playing and I was staying
PURE OF HEART

From boy to man, the awkward stance, the guitar chords and also-rans
The brown suede for the 60’s look
The out of timeness, fashion blindness
All the same I remained
PURE OF HEART

Dreaming of Fame and all its glory
The main thing I longed for was Love
The main thing I longed for was Love

The scent of togetherness, the lavender upon her dress
The girl in the garret stepping into time
Lovers, friends let friends be lovers
Now I know, I’ll need no other, I am
PURE OF HEART

Explorations there to find, Ego-tripping on my mind
Too late for the garret, to the garret I said Goodbye
Lavender girl just shook her head and smiled and said
“Where’s the Pure of Heart?”

Flatter all the lovers you call friends
Who knows who is true and who pretends

Back to the starting post, back to what means the most
Take a look at all that I have learned
Need a friend to be my lover
And I know there’ll be other
I’ll be Pure of Heart
Come on take my hand and make me
PURE OF HEART