A Dog’s Life… songs about dogs

As most of you know, I’m a huge fan of dogs and animals in general. Will I hug a King Cobra? No, but I do love animals. Dogs (yes, I’m counting the prairie variety as well) are part of that list, and I’ve probably been closer to dogs than to any other animal. I started to think…hmmm…what are some songs that were about dogs? I’ll keep this brief except for the Neil Young description…he rambles a bit. 

The Bottle Rockets – I Love My Dog

The Bottle Rockets came out of Festus, Missouri, in the early 1990s. They were part of the wave that later got labeled alt-country. At the time, it was just a bunch of bands mixing country, rock, and whatever else they grew up on. Brian Henneman had been around the scene already, even doing a stint as a guitar tech and occasional player for Uncle Tupelo, which put him right in the middle of that movement as it was forming.

Just a person, and their dog, and the sense that the dog might be the most dependable thing in their life. There is some humor in this, but it never turns into a jokey kind of song. I also love the jangle that came with this song. I’m going to revisit this band in the future. It’s hard to resist this video, especially with Carlene Carter and her dog Sparky starting it off!

This is such a cool video and song. Many happy humans, along with their owners.

Cat Stevens – I Love My Dog

This song was released in 1966 as a single and the following year on Stevens’ debut album Matthew and Son. He wrote the lyrics to the music of Yusef Lateef’s song The Plum Blossom. He credited the song to Lateef, and they shared the songwriting royalties. The song peaked at #28 in the UK, #47 in Canada, and #118 on the Billboard 100 in 1966. 

Beatles – Martha My Dear

Our Saint Bernard was named after this song. Paul McCartney wrote this song about his English Sheepdog. Paul got the dog in 1966, and Martha lived a long life with Paul until 1981. Paul had Martha’s descendants, but I’m not sure about them currently. Paul has said that the riff to this song is one of the most difficult ones he came up with on piano. The song has a special place in my household. In fact, she is under my feet now as I type this. 

 

Neil Young – Old King

This one is about Neil’s dog named Elvis. It was released in 1992 on the Harvest Moon album. This Neil Young quote is from a concert talking about this song. It’s rambling…but it’s Neil!

Neil Young: “This a song about my dog. His name is Elvis. Elvis is riding on Jimi Hendrix’s bus now. He traveled with me for many years. Well, I changed his name to ‘King’ in the song to avoid any confusion. Elvis had quite a nose. That was his whole thing, was his nose. But, you know, he was very sensitive about it. I’ll tell you a little story about him. He used to go on the road with me all the time, and, you know, he kind of smelled like a hound, ’cause… he was a hound. But it smelled good to him, and uh, you know, we would take him to a veterinarian’s place or something, and they’d clean him up a little bit so when he got on the bus, he wasn’t too comfy, you know?

After a while we all kind of got used to each other on the bus, so it was okay, but right at first he was a little strong, so. . . so anyway, once, uh, someone took him that usually doesn’t take him and took him to some fifi dog place. He came back smelling, uh, kinda like some bad toilet paper or something? Non-environmental and all. It had this odor to it that was like,(groaning)’oh no, wow.’ He kind of smelled like one of those things that hang on people’s mirrors, you know, that smell? Anyway, it was bad for me, but to him it was hell, ’cause he was, you know, sensitive.

And uh, so I was sleeping on the side of the road, I was on my way out to Eureka, California to play this gigantic gig… And ah, uh, you know, he woke me up, it was about six o’clock in the morning, I get this nose, you know, ‘snnnfff, snnnffff, snnff, snnff,’ He woke me up… I’m going, ‘What’s happening?

It’s this, this big nose, it’s lookin’ at me, kinda, you know, desperate. You know, I said, ‘God, you smell terrible. You stink.’ And he knew he stunk. He wanted off the bus. He said, ‘I want to go roll in some cowshit on the side of the road. So, you know, he was a smart dog, and he was purebred, actually, he was a beautiful hound, and uh, he had all his senses that he needed, he knew how to get back. You know, hounds will circle, uh, an area, and keep going in wider and wider circles, and they count how many times, somehow they know how many times they’ve been around it, so when they come back in they just count it like the, like the lifelines on a tree or somethin’, you know, you just come right back in and, right to the core and that’s where you started from, you know. Anyway, he knew that. He taught me that. And uh, so, I said, ‘Okay Elvis, take a shot.

He took off, I let him go. And uh, there’s only one thing that can go wrong if you do that. That’s if it rains, then, and then he can’t find his way back, ’cause he can’t smell over the little rains, you know. He just loses it. So, he lost it, he got lost. It’s like three o’clock in the afternoon, we’re still waiting for him to come back, and we gotta go to the gig pretty soon or we’re gonna be late, you know, and I’m going, ‘Shit, I lost my dog. What am I gonna tell everybody?’ You know, I can’t leave him behind, I can’t, you know, what can I do? So I went out hunting for him.

There was a railroad track there, and I walked up and down the railroad track. I was going all by myself up there, from the railroad track, (in a loud, anguished shriek) ‘Elvis!!!!’ And uh, I couldn’t hear a thing, not a hound around, and uh, so I gave up after a while, ’cause this Rolling Stone guy was following me around, taking random notes. You know, I saw him write it down, you know, I was out on this railroad track in the middle of nowhere yelling out Elvis, and uh, so I got, I knew that wouldn’t be good for my image.

“So I went back to the bus, and uh, I got out my lucky shirt, which I don’t have with me tonight, you may have noticed. I know, but it’s too hot for my lucky shirt. So anyway, I, he, I took it out there, and I put it down by the bowl, put his bowl out there, and left the shirt; he’d come back eventually, you know, find his way back to the shirt. And I’d figured after the gig I could come back. So, I get back on the bus to take off. So I’m leaving, and this guy in a pick up truck pulls up and says, ‘Hey Neil, what’re you doing?’ Well, so, I told him, I’m not gonna tell it again here, I told him, and then, uh, then uh, he said ‘Well that’s okay, Neil, I’ll, me and, I’ll go get my wife, and we’ll wait, we’ll wait right here until he comes back, and then we’ll bring him to you in Eureka.’

“I said, ‘Wow, what a great guy, you’re, you’re great.’ Yeah, so he did. You know, so I took off, and uh, just before, uh, I was about half an hour late – nothin’ like Guns n’ Roses or nothin’, but uh. . . but I lost my dog… What did they lose, you know what I mean? So, uh, so I, so I got there. Ah, hey, that’s rock n’ roll, you gotta do what you do. And ah, you know, just as I was going on he called me and said they found him.

 

Pink Floyd – Seamus

This blues song goes beyond writing a song about a dog. It features a dog singing! This song was on the 1971 album Meddle. The band was moving away from the early psychedelic singles and into longer, more intricate pieces, and this track, though, shows another side built around a simple, short blues pattern.

The song was about and featured Steve Marriott’s dog Seamus, whom Gilmour was dog-sitting for. Gilmour played the harmonica while Seamus was howling away. So that I’m straight on this…seventies rock stars dog sat! I would have never guessed. 

I’m playing this loud…Martha is looking around everywhere. 

***BONUS***

John Hiatt – Me and My Dog

Lobo – Me and You and A Dog Named Boo

Beatles – Hey Bulldog

 

Jerry Jeff Walker – Mr. Bojangles

I’ve wanted to revisit Jerry Jeff Walker for a long time. I picked an easy one, but the song has always meant a lot to me. It’s for the personal connection that I picked this one. I first heard this song by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, but I love this version as well. Only a few songs can make me feel emotional, and this one does. The song gets me emotionally involved with the story, and then comes the line, his dog up and died. I can feel that, and it hurts every time. 

The inspiration for the song started in the mid-60s, before Walker was known. He was passing through New Orleans and ended up spending a night in a jail cell on a minor charge. While there, he met an older man who began talking to pass the time. The man said his name was Mr. Bojangles, not his real name, but as something he used to avoid giving his identity to the police.

During the conversation, the man talked about his life as a street dancer. He described performing for tips, moving from place to place, and how he used dance to get by. At one point, the mood shifted. He spoke about his dog that had died, and how that loss affected him. Then, almost as a way to break the tension in the cell, he started tapping and dancing a little. This meeting stayed with Walker.

After getting out, Walker wrote the song based on that encounter. He didn’t try to document the man exactly. Instead, he shaped the story into something broader, a character built from memory. The name itself came from the man’s habit of using it in place of his real one, which also echoed the stage name of dancer Bill Robinson, though the song is not about Robinson. I thought it was when I found out about Robinson. 

This song has stood the test of time. I hardly use that worn-out phrase, but it does. Just like some movies are classics, this is because of that story. It’s a great story song, and you get a full look at the characters. It’s some excellent songwriting in that. 

Walker was born in New York but drifted around the country in the 60s. In the early 1970s, Walker relocated to Austin, Texas, where he became part of the burgeoning outlaw country music scene. He helped define that genre. He was part of the Texas songwriters such as Willie Nelson, Guy Clark, and Townes Van Zandt. He is not technically a natural-born Texas singer-songwriter, but he is remembered by many as one. 

Walker recorded the first version of the song, and it peaked at #77 on the Billboard 100 in 1968. The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band recorded their version the next year, releasing it in 1970, and it peaked at #9 on the Billboard 100, #2 in Canada, and #2 in New Zealand in 1971.

Mr Bojangles

I knew a man Bojangles and he’d dance for you
In worn out shoes
Silver hair and ragged shirt and baggy pants
He did the old soft shoe
He jumped so high
He jumped so high
Then he’d lightly touch down

I met him in a cell in New Orleans
I was down and out
He looked to me to be the eyes of age
As he spoke right out
He talked of life
He talked of life
He laughed slapped his leg a step

He said the name Bojangles and he danced
A lick across the cell
He grabbed his pants a better stance
Then he jumped so high
He clicked his heels
He let go a laugh oh he let go a laugh
Shook back his clothes all around

Mister Bojangles
Mister Bojangles
Mister Bojangles
Dance

He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs
Throughout the South
He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog
And him traveled about
His dog up and died
He up and died
After twenty years he still grieves

He said I dance now at every chance in honky-tonks
For drinks and tips
But most o’ the time I spend behind these county bars
Hell I drinks a bit
He shook his head and as he shook his head
I heard someone ask him please

Mister Bojangles
Mister Bojangles
Mister Bojangles
Dance

Max’s Drive-In Movie – Frequency

This is not a “great” movie but a very entertaining one. 

This 2000 movie has two of my favorite elements, time travel and baseball. It’s NOT about baseball, but the 1969 World Series was used as a talking point and to prove a point. This movie has a cool twist on time travel. No one walks into the future or past, but father and son talk on a ham radio 30 years apart. That World Series is used in a way that convinced the dad that his son was talking to him over a ham radio 30 years in the future. 

This movie, overall, is a good vibe movie. Yes, things work out more than they probably should, but it’s just that kind of movie. I love the way they communicate 30 years apart. There are many twists and turns, but it pays off at the end. So if you want a dark, dark movie (it does have dark spots), this one is not for you, but it’s not overly sweet either. The actors did great. Dennis Quaid, Jim Caviezel, Elizabeth Mitchell, and others were on target. 

It begins in 1999. John Sullivan is a New York City police detective still affected by the death of his father, who died in a warehouse fire in 1969. One night, during a rare solar event, John discovers that his father’s old ham radio is picking up a signal from the past. He soon realizes he is speaking directly to Frank (his father) in 1969. At first, they test the connection with personal details. John tells Frank (his dad) about the 1969 World Series and what happened. Frank doesn’t believe him at first, but soon does, and his life is saved. 

Once convinced, John warns Frank about the fire that will kill him the next day. Frank listens, changes his actions, and survives. When the timeline shifts, John wakes up in a new version of 1999 where his father lived longer, but other events have changed. Saving Frank sets off a chain reaction. In the altered timeline, John’s mother is murdered by a serial killer who was active in 1969.

John and Frank, now aware of their link across time, work together to track the killer in both eras. John uses modern police records to guide his father’s investigation into the past, while Frank gathers evidence that affects the future. Their actions create more changes, sometimes helping, sometimes making things worse. The film moves between 1969 and 1999 as both men close in on the suspect. In the final act, events from both timelines converge, leading to a confrontation that resolves the case and restores their family.

Frequency avoids complicated science explanations. The radio connection simply exists, tied to solar activity. The crime plot gives the story tension, but the center remains the conversations between a father and son who were given one more opportunity to speak. Overall, it’s a time-travel feel-good movie…and I’m a sucker for time-travel movies. 

The Prisoner – The General

November 3,1967 Season 1 Episode 6

If you want to see where we are…HERE is a list of the episodes.

On the surface, I thought what a great idea, but then, as the show progressed, I saw how evil it could be.

This one is one of The Prisoner episodes that looks simple on the surface, then keeps getting stranger the longer you sit with it. Number Six is dragged into the Village’s latest civic craze, a bright, friendly educational program called “Speed Learn.” It’s sold as progress, a way to teach people anything in 3 minutes, and the whole place treats it like the future has arrived. Number Six doesn’t buy it. He watches how quickly people accept it, how eager they are to be improved, and he starts asking the one question the Village never wants asked: who benefits?

The episode turns into a battle over information, and not in the usual spy-movie way. Speed Learn isn’t just about learning faster; it’s about removing the messy parts of thinking, doubt, and choice. The most important part is: what are they going to encode in the machine for you to learn?  Number Six pushes back by doing what he always does…he refuses to play along. The deeper he digs, the clearer it becomes that the message is all about control. Either you think like everyone else, or you are out of bounds. 

By the end, this episode feels like a warning. It’s not about technology being evil; it’s about how easily it becomes a shortcut to obedience when it’s run by the wrong hands. The episode keeps its tone light on purpose, but the point is blunt. A society that treats knowledge like a product can also treat people like human containers. Number Six’s resistance shows the one thing they can’t fully automate and control… a mind that won’t surrender.

I thought the ending could have been better with this one. That doesn’t mean I didn’t like it, though. This episode also urges caution regarding the up-and-coming computer age. I was thinking of TikTok while watching this episode.  Be Seeing You!

…

Replacements – Hold My Life

There is a reason I like SNL’s first 5 seasons the best, and to me, they never came near that again. Were some of the later seasons just as funny or funnier? Yes, they were, but more rigidly controlled. Why am I bringing this up on a Replacements post? One word…Risk. I like it when actors, comedians, and musicians are on the edge. You know good and well it could break apart at any moment, but somehow they manage to pull it back together at the last minute. Artists who take chances and run the risk of running off the road are exciting. Sometimes a chaos grenade needs to be pitched in to liven things up. No bigger chaos grenade than the Replacements musically. 

One thing that took me a while to learn when I played in various bands, it’s alright to mess up (I don’t mean stupid mental mistakes). As long as you were trying to push the song forward, take chances. I’ve been on stage when a song falls apart. Not a good feeling, but you learn from those things. I noticed the crowd always loved it when you tried different things on the edge.

The crowd was not musicians, but they could feel a car wreck coming, but more often than not, it didn’t come and was pulled back between the lines…but it was the thought of watching a train/car wreck. In other words, the phrase “playing with fire” came into play, but it paid off so many times. After a while, you can control the chaos when you conquer your fear of making mistakes. Then it becomes second nature, and you know how to progress, and the mistakes stop, but the thought/energy doesn’t…so we learned to risk it from time to time. I guess that is why I love the Replacements so much…they perfected that energy. I first learned it from The Who. 

The Replacements are famous for that mentality.  Everything sounds like it could fall apart, and that’s exactly the point. This song is the opening track from the album Tim from 1985. The Replacements had already built a reputation for mixing chaos with something close to truth. It doesn’t ease you in; it drops you right into the middle of the chaos.

The recording came during sessions with producer Tommy Erdelyi, better known as Tommy Ramone. The Ramones drummer pushed the band toward to something tighter, but you can still hear and feel the sharp edges. I always liked the line “Hold my life until I’m ready to use it.” It sounds like a throwaway at first, but it stuck with me. Back then, it sounded like an attitude. Now it sounds more like a question. There’s frustration in it, maybe a sense of being stuck between wanting control and not knowing what to do with it.

This album was their first major label release on Sire Records in 1984. This would be the last album by the original band because Bob Stinson would be kicked out a couple of years later.  Tim was placed 136th on Rolling Stone’s 2003 list of the 500 greatest albums of all time, and 137th in a 2012 revised list. The album peaked at #186 on the Billboard Album Chart in 1986.

Hold My Life

Oooo well, well, wellI bought itDown on all foursLet me crawlIf I want ICould dieOh byMy handTime for decisions to be madeCrack up in the sunLose it in the shade

Razzle dazzle razzle drollTime for this one to come homeRazzle dazzle razzle dieTime for this one to come aliveAnd hold my lifeUntil I’m ready to use itHold my lifeBecause I just might lose itBecause I just might lose itBecause I just might lose it

Well, well, wellAnyone could tellClassic aweA lucky shotOoo-leh-doHate ’emSomeday soonFace ’emTime for decisions to be madeCrack up in the sunLose it in the shade

Razzle dazzle razzle drollTime for this one to come homeRazzle dazzle razzle dieTime for this one to come aliveAnd hold my lifeUntil I’m ready to use itHold my lifeBecause I just might lose itBecause I just might lose itBecause I just might lose it

Just my, just my, just myWe might crack up in the sunBut we’ll lose it in the shade

Razzle dazzle razzle drollTime for this one to come homeRazzle dazze razzle dieTime for this one to come aliveAnd hold my lifeUntil I’m ready to use itHold my lifeBecause I just might lose itBecause I just might lose itHold my lifeHold my lifeHold my, hold my, hold my, hold my, hold

Golden Smog – Son (We’ve Kept Your Room Just the Way You Left It)

I wrote about these guys a year or so ago, and I’ve continued to listen to them. The way I describe them is 90s alt-country mixed with Big Star. You literally get Big Star, Wilco, Uncle Tupelo, and The Jayhawks in this band…plus a member of the Replacements.  

The Golden Smog started as a loose collaboration of Minneapolis-based musicians who got together to play cover songs under pseudonyms. The name Golden Smog comes from a character in a Flintstones episode. The band initially played country and rock covers, but it evolved into a serious musical project over time.

Membership in this band has been fluid. They have had Chris Mars (Replacements drummer), Jeff Tweedy (Wilco),  Louris and Perlman of The Jayhawks, Dave Primer from Soul Asylum, and more. Also in 1997, Jody Stephens became their drummer. He was an original member of Big Star. 

This song, to my surprise, was first released by a band from the early seventies called Michaelangelo. They were a baroque-folk band around that time. This song was on their 1971 album One Voice Many. 

Lyrically, it is very interesting. A mom sends her son a letter, and he is unsure whether to send a reply and tell her the truth about how he is doing…and it’s not good. 

This song was released on their debut EP, On Golden Smog, in 1992. Altogether, they have released 1 EP and 4 albums, with the latest one in 2007 and a “Best Of” package in 2008. They reunited in 2019 and played together last year with Jeff Tweedy. 

Son (We’ve Kept Your Room Must the Way You Left It)

Hello Mom, I’m fine, where the sun is dyin’How’s the weather around my old hometown?You seem to worry about my livin’, you say that all’s forgivenWhat’s lost is bound to be found

I hope you don’t expect to see me‘Cause you know I’m very far awayYou know I really miss youBut a man’s gotta make it on his own someday

Sue, she sends her greetings ’bout the school and civic meetingsSays she’s doin’ well in her cellYeah, her brother’s won the race nowAnd he’s proud to show his face now‘Round the corner scene in his paper-doll dreams

And me, I guess I’m livin’Takin’ what’s for the livin’Oh, Mom, you know how I really wishYou could see what’s on my mind, yeah

Yeah, I guess it’s kinda lonely, and I’ve been uptight for moneyBut I’ll make it on my own, stayin’ highYou seem upset about the drugs and thingsI guess I’ve finally found my wingsIt’s my way to be free, don’t think you failed in me

Someday, you’ll understand all thisJust what it is I mean to sayJust don’t try and love meI don’t wanna see you hurt this way

Yes, I’ll be ignorin’, makes a guy feel freeKnowin’ that somebody cares somewhere

Mama, can I mail this and let you know I failed?It’s just not right somehow, oh noI’d rather let you think I’m dead than hung on drugs insteadI’m dyin’ anyhow, and it’s too late now

And I guess there’s a moral somewhereBut I can’t seem to think just nowIf I had to do it overGuess I’d try to change the trial somehow

Lord, it’s really hell when you’re livin’ in a spellAnd nothing’s like it seems in a cocaine dream

Guy Clark – The Randall Knife

Finding Guy Clark in the past few years has been amazing. Song after song that I can relate to with words that always fit. I lost my dad in 2005, so I can totally relate to this song. I have some of his tools for making guitars and an old wooden case he made for them.  This song brought back a lot of memories. This song is a true story song in every sense of the word. I’m usually a little more hesitant on partial talking songs…but this one is a winner.

The song was on the album Dublin Blues, which was released in 1995. The musicians on this album were staggering. Rodney Crowell, Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, Nanci Griffith, Emmylou Harris, Kathy Mattea, and more. This song closed the album, and that’s where it belongs because it would have been hard to follow this song. 

The song centers on a knife passed down from his father, a Randall Made Knives blade with history behind it. Clark doesn’t treat it like an object; it’s more like a stand-in for memory and loss. He talks about using it, holding it, and what it meant to his dad. By the end, the knife becomes a way of holding on to someone who’s gone.

The arrangement stays simple, and nothing pulls attention from the lyric. You can hear the same mindset in writers like Townes Van Zandt and Steve Earle, where detail matters more than volume. Every line feels and is important.

It’s about one knife, one father, one set of memories. But it doesn’t stay there. Anyone who’s held on to something after losing someone will recognize it. Clark never says more than he needs to, and that’s the reason it holds up. 

The Randall Knife

My father had a Randall knifeMy mother gave it to himWhen he went off to World War IITo save us all from ruinNow if you’ve ever held a Randall knifeYou’ll know my father wellAnd if a better blade was ever madeIt was probably forged in hell

My father was a good manHe was a lawyer by his tradeAnd only once did I ever seeHim misuse the bladeWell, it almost cut his thumb offWhen he took it for a toolThe knife was made for darker thingsYou could not bend the rules

Well, he let me take it camping onceOn a Boy Scout jamboreeAnd I broke a half an inch offTrying to stick it in a treeWell, I hid it from him for a whileBut the knife and he were oneHe put it in his bottom drawerWithout a hard word one

There it slept and there it stayedFor 20 some odd yearsSort of like ExcaliburExcept waiting for a tear

My father died when I was 40And I couldn’t find a way to cryNot because I didn’t love himNot because he didn’t tryWell, I’d cried for every lesser thingWhiskey, pain and beautyBut he deserved a better tearAnd I was not quite ready

So we took his ashes out to seaAnd poured ’em off the sternAnd then threw the roses in the wakeOf everything we’d learnedAnd when we got back to the houseThey asked me what I wantedNot the law books, not the watchI need the things he’s haunted

My hand burned for the Randall knifeThere in the bottom drawerAnd I found a tear for my father’s lifeAnd all that it stood for

Delaney and Bonnie w/Eric Clapton – Comin’ Home

In the past few years, I’ve learned more about this group of musicians. The first time I noticed Delaney and Bonnie was in the great movie Vanishing Point. 

There’s a carefree spirit to Comin’ Home that feels like a blend of Rock, Soul, and Blues. It was released in 1969 on On Tour with Eric Clapton, and after listening to the album…I wish I could have seen that tour. Delaney & Bonnie were leading a rotating group of talented players at the time, and you can hear that sense of a band finding its way together perfectly.

By this time, they had built a strong live band that mixed rock, gospel, and soul, and it caught the attention of Eric Clapton, who was looking for a way out of the pressure surrounding Blind Faith. Clapton joined their touring group, not as a headline name, but as part of the band. He also occasionally brought his friend George Harrison to join in. 

 Clapton’s guitar work sits along with his work with Blind Faith at the time. The sound tilts toward gospel and Southern soul, which makes for some great roots music. The tour itself ran through the UK in December 1969, with a lineup that was deep to say the least! The backing band featured Leon Russell, Delaney Bramlett, Bonnie Bramlett, Rita Coolidge, Dave Mason, Bobby Whitlock, Carl Radle, Jim Gordon, George Harrison (on some shows), Tex Johnson, Bobby Keys, and Jim Price.

If you wanted a big tour back then, you grabbed Leon Russell. He would soon be on the notorious Mad Dogs and Englishmen tour of Joe Cocker. The recordings were taken from shows in cities like London and Birmingham, captured on the fly rather than built in a studio. Producer credit went to Delaney Bramlett, and the goal was simple: to document the band as it sounded in the room.

What gets me is the looseness of the recordings. Songs like Things Get Better and Only You Know and I Know stretch out, driven by Russell’s piano, while Clapton adds fills and does his thing.

The album also mattered for what came next. Clapton carried this experience forward into Derek and the Dominos, both in personnel and in feel. The Dominos were all in this band except Duane Allman. The idea of a band built around feel and fluidity hit home for Clapton. He would not be the spotlight of that band, just a member.  In that sense, On Tour with Eric Clapton works as a bridge record, a live document of one group, and the starting point for another.

You want to listen to a great live album that sounds like the musicians are in the room with you? Listen to this album and hear some of the greatest musicians of the era. The album peaked at #29 on the Billboard Album Charts and #12 in Canada in 1969. The single Comin’ Home peaked at #84 on the Billboard 100 and #55 in Canada. 

Comin’ Home

Been out on the road ’bout six months too long.
I want you so bad, I can hardly stand it.
I’m so tired and I’m all alone.
We’ll soon be together and that’s it;
I’m comin’ home to your love.

 

Hitchhiking on the turnpike all day long.
Nobody seemed to notice, they just pass me on by.
To keep from going crazy, I got to sing my song.
Got a whole lot of loving and baby that’s why
I’m comin’ home to your love.

 

Coming home.
Coming home.
Coming home.
Coming home.

My Favorite Soul Songs… Part II

I love this genre…I made Part 1 a couple of years ago, but never followed up. Sometimes soul blends with pop and is closely related to R&B. Below are a few that I have always liked.

Freda Payne – Band Of Gold

I’ve always liked this song. It’s a bit of a soap opera but it’s a really good soul song. The song peaked at #3 on the Billboard 100 in 1970. The guitar had a rubberband-type effect that was used in this song.

Because of the subject matter, Freda Payne did not want to record this at first. She thought the song was about a woman who was a virgin or sexually naïve and felt it was more suitable for a teenager. When Payne objected to this song, Ron Dunbar (co-writer of the song) said to her, “Don’t worry. You don’t have to like them! Just sing it,” and she did. Little did she know that this song would become her biggest hit and would give her her first record of gold.

Aretha Franklin – Baby I Love You

This is my personal favorite song of Aretha Franklin…and she has a boatload of great songs to pick from. She could bring soul to You Light Up My Life and THAT is saying something. I’ve said this a lot but Aretha Franklin and Janis Joplin are my top female singers.

This Aretha Franklin song was released in 1967 and it was on the Aretha Arrives album. It peaked at #4 on the Billboard 100, #3 in Canada, and #39 in the UK in 1967.  Her sisters Carolyn and Erma provided backing vocals along with the Sweet Inspirations, an R&B girl group founded by Cissy Houston. Musicians who were featured on the track included engineer Tom Dowd and Muscle Shoals players Jimmy Johnson and Joe South on guitars, Tommy Cogbill on bass, Spooner Oldham on electric piano, and Roger Hawkins on drums. Truman Thomas also played the organ.

Franklin recorded this with Atlantic producer Jerry Wexler in New York City during the same session as Chain Of Fools. The song was written by Ronnie Shannon, who was also responsible for another hit for Aretha with I Never Loved A Man (The Way I Love You).

Temptations – I Wish It Would Rain

It sure got A LOT of play when I went through my first real hard breakup. You break up with someone…the Temptations have your back. Their greatest hits were more like advice than songs, which I loved.

David Ruffin sings this song, and you can feel the sadness and pain in his voice. The man had a tremendous voice. Naming my favorite Temptations song would be hard, but this one would be near the top.

The song has been covered by Gladys Knight and the Pips, Marvin Gaye, Aretha Franklin and The Faces. This song was released right before the psychedelic soul hit Cloud Nine, and the band’s style began to change.

Stevie Wonder – I Was Made To Love Her

Of all Stevie Wonder songs…this one is at the top of the list for me.

Anything Stevie does, I like. Sometimes when I hear a song, it takes a few times for me to like it, but this one…hooked me the first time. This song peaked at #2 on the Billboard 100, #5 in Canada, and #5 in the UK Charts in 1967. The song was written by Wonder, Lula Mae Hardaway, Henry Cosby, and Sylvia Moy. Lula Mae Haraway was Stevie Wonder’s mother.

Jimmy Ruffin – What Becomes of the Broken Hearted

Jimmy Ruffin was the brother of then Temptation David Ruffin. This was written by Motown writers Jimmy Dean, Paul Riser, and William Witherspoon. They wrote it for The Detroit Spinners, but Ruffin convinced the Motown writers to let him try it, and they liked what they heard.

I think Motown has been the soundtrack to more breakups than anyone else. This song peaked at #7 in the Billboard 100 in 1966. The great Smokey Robinson produced this track. He worked on many Motown classics as an artist, writer, and producer. This would be Jimmy’s biggest hit of his career.

 

The Prisoner – The Schizoid Man

October 27, 1967 Season 1 Episode 5

If you want to see where we are…HERE is a list of the episodes.

I highly recommend this one. The episode is grounded in behavioral science, and there’s something very unsettling about this one. It’s a little too real. Number 6 awakens to discover he’s grown a mustache, his hair is darker, and he’s left-handed. Oh, and now he’s Number 12 (6+6 = 12). I like many of these episodes, but this might be my favorite episode. I do give some things away in this review; it’s hard not to with this one. 

Having a character encounter their double is a common movie or television ploy (even two of the castaways on “Gilligan’s Island” met their doubles), but few examples are as effective as Number Six confronting his spitting, smirking image. It’s not just one of the best interrogation episodes but one of the best I’ve seen. Number 6 and Number 12 are going at it. 

They try to break him by splitting his life in two. The Village creates a “new” Number Six who smiles, cooperates, and actually fits in, while the other one is treated like a problem.  It’s about making Six doubt himself and making his resistance look like he’s insane. 

Number Six wakes up after being drugged and tampered with. When he awakens, he is not in his usual dwelling, and when he looks in a mirror, he sees his appearance has been altered with darker hair and a mustache. At the Green Dome, Number Two addresses him as ‘Number Twelve’, and acts as though he is on his side. Number Six is given his ‘orders’ to break himself! After having his hair dyed back to its original colour and the moustache shaved, Number Six returns to his original dwelling. Who should be in residence but…Number Six! Confused? Of course, the Number Six coming back is actually Number Twelve.

As he is released back into the Village, officials test him by placing him in situations meant to trigger his old defiant behavior. Each time, he hesitates or reacts differently, which convinces them the procedure worked. They assign him a new job and surround him with friendly villagers who reinforce his new identity. Meanwhile, viewers see the Control Room watching every move, adjusting the experiment as they go.

Over time, cracks appear. Small details bring back flashes of who he really is, and he begins to suspect the whole transformation is an act forced onto him. When the Village authorities push him too hard, his old instincts return. He confronts the people manipulating him and exposes that the “new identity” was created through psychological conditioning rather than real memory loss.

What makes this episode work is how it turns identity into a weapon. Number Six fights with logic and willpower, but he’s also fighting a system that is against him. The episode keeps the pressure on, then ends with the Village still ready for the next move. 

This one was very hard to write up. It’s best to see it, and I think you will enjoy it. Some have ranked this as the top episode or at least in the top 3. Be Seeing You!

…

Godfathers – She Gives Me Love

There’s no easing into She Gives Me Love. It hits fast and stays there. Released in 1986 on Hit by Hit, the track shows what The Godfathers were about in their early run: tight playing, sharp edges, and no interest in slowing down.

 I listened to their first real album Birth, School, Work, Death, and it was fantastic. I then skipped around and listened to some songs throughout their career. Super band… they have a tough, rough Katie bar the door… no-holds-barred sound. I hear some Who, Kinks, Small Faces, Sloan, and other bands in them.

The main reason I like them…the hooks. They know how to develop and use great hooks in the right places. While you have the hooks and melodies, you also have the super-aggressive anger riding on top of everything. They mix it perfectly. In short… abrasive in-your-face rock.

The band, led by Peter Coyne and Chris Coyne, came out of the UK scene with a sound that pulled from R&B and stripped-down rock. You can hear that here. The guitars are direct, and the whole thing feels built for a small room turned up too loud. It doesn’t try to expand beyond that.

This is one I came across later, digging past the usual tracks people mention. It felt like finding something still wired tight after all these years.  No buildup, no release, just straight through. Sometimes that’s all you need.

She Gives Me Love

Don’t claim to understand herI wonder what she’s doing with meDon’t know what she does with the rest of her timeBut she gives it to me for free

She gives me loveShe gives me love

She never takes my moneyBut she always steals my timeShe’s the kind of a girl that if you gave her the worldShe’d say it wasn’t worth a dime

She gives me loveShe gives me love

It’s not easy to explain itThe effect she has on meMake a dumb man talk and a blind man seeThat sweet little mystery

She gives me loveShe gives me love

She gives me loveShe gives me love

Band – Twilight

I have to thank obbverse for introducing this song. This song was on the 1976 album The Best Of The Band. It was also released as a non-album single in 1975, along with “The Weight” in the UK. 

This is one I didn’t pay much attention to at first. It sat on that best of record surrounded by their giant songs. But over time, I would give it a listen or two. When obbverse mentioned it…I kept it on my playlist and realized how great a song it is. I also found an alternative version with Levon singing it. Something about Danko’s version, though, that makes it sound so personal. 

The song was written by Robbie Robertson; like most Band material, it was shaped by everyone in the room. The sound is rooted in the group’s style, but the direction feels more centered.

Some bands have great voices and tight harmonies. The Beatles and The Beach Boys, to name a few, but The Band’s harmonies were loose, yet at the same time just as tight in their own way. They had that back porch and bluegrass sound. Their music sounded spontaneous, but it was well-crafted. They always left enough raw edge to keep it interesting.

Robbie Robertson’s words and melodies were Americana flowing through a Canadian who had part-Jewish and Native-Canadian roots. He would read one movie screenplay after another. It helped him with his songwriting to express the images he had in his head. Robbie also took stories Levon told him of the South and shaped them into songs.

Twilight

Over by the wildwoodHot summer nightWe lay in the tall grassTill the mornin’ lightIf I had my way I’d neverGet the urge to roamBut a young man serves his countryAn old man guards the homeDon’t send me no silly salutationsOr silly souvenirs from far awayDon’t leave me alone in the twilight‘Cause twilight is the loneliest time of dayI never gave it a second thoughtIt never crossed my mindWhat’s right and what’s notI’m not the judgin’ kindI can take the darkness, ohStorms in the skiesBut we all got certain trialsBurnin’ up insideDon’t put me in a frame upon the mantel‘Fore memories grow dusty old and grayYou don’t leave me alone in the twilight‘Cause twilight is the loneliest time of dayAnd don’t leave me alone in the twilight‘Cause twilight is the loneliest time of day

Tragically Hip – Fiddler’s Green

I heard this song while listening to Road Apples last year or so, and I knew I wanted to come back to it. A shout-out to deKe, who recommended this album to me.  This one is such a beautiful and sad song. When I looked up the inspiration, I sadly understood. 

There’s a quiet weight (best way I can describe it) to Fiddler’s Green that sets it apart in the catalog from what I heard of The Tragically Hip. It was released on Road Apples in 1991; it comes in soft and stays there. No huge dynamic, just a steady song that feels epic at times. 

The song was written by Gord Downie after the loss of his 3 year old young nephew. That context explains the tone and meaning without needing to be spelled out in the lyrics. The band keeps the arrangement simple, light acoustic guitar, space between the notes, and a vocal that sounds like it’s being carried more than delivered. Producer Don Smith, who had worked with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, helped guide the sessions toward a more direct sound, and this track benefits from that restraint.

The album was recorded in New Orleans, and the environment shaped parts of the album, but this song feels separate from the rest. While other tracks were more into groove and band interplay, this song is kept simpler. It’s closer to a live recording in spirit, one voice, one guitar, and the room around it. The band understood it didn’t need more.

I didn’t hear this one right away when I first got into Road Apples. It was one of those tracks you come back to later, and it hits you differently. The first thing I thought was how different it was. The album peaked at #1 in Canada in 1991. The album had 6 singles released from it, but this one wasn’t one of them, and that is a shame.

I’m not an expert on this band, but after listening to the debut album and then this one. It sounded like a band settling into who they were. It’s an excellent album. 

Fiddler’s Green

One, two, three, four, one, two

September seventeenFor a girl I know it’s Mother’s DayHer son has gone aleeAnd that’s where he will stayWind on the weathervaneTearing blue eyes sailor-meanAs Falstaff sings a sorrowful refrainFor a boy in Fiddler’s Green

His tiny knotted heartWell, I guess it never worked too goodThe timber tore apartAnd the water gorged the woodYou can hear her whispered prayerFor men at masts that always leanThe same wind that moves her hairMoves a boy through Fiddler’s Green

Oh, nothing’s changed anywayOh, nothing’s changed anywayOh, any time today

He doesn’t know a soulThere’s nowhere that he’s really beenBut he won’t travel long aloneNo, not in Fiddler’s GreenBalloons all filled with rainAs children’s eyes turn sleepy-meanAnd Falstaff sings a sorrowful refrainFor a boy in Fiddler’s Green

Formerly Brothers – The Return of the Formerly Brothers …album review

A while back, I really started to get into Doug Sahm because the guy was quality, period. Everything I’ve heard from him I’ve liked. Thanks to halffastcyclingclub for more information about Doug. He was born in 1941 and had singles out when he was 14 in 1955. He was a child prodigy and a proud Texan. 

The Formerly Brothers brought together three players who already had long histories: Amos Garrett, Doug Sahm, and Gene Taylor. I’m grateful they did, and the reason I first listened was because of Doug Sahm, but he is far from the only one on this album. When three artists of this caliber get together, sometimes it can feel forced, but this one doesn’t. The album was released in 1987. 

They got their name from the press always introducing them individually as “formerly of” different bands. They started this album after appearing at the 1986 Edmonton Folk Festival. The project came together as a collaboration between these artists who had crossed paths for years. 

Doug Sahm founded, with Augie Meyers, The Sir Douglas Quintet. He would go on to have a solo career and also play with The Texas Tornados, among many others. The American-Canadian Amos Garrett became known for session work, including his time with Paul Butterfield and his guitar on Maria Muldaur’s Midnight at the Oasis. Gene Taylor worked with many artists, including Canned Heat and, later, The Blasters, but he was always in demand for his piano playing.

By all accounts, they got along well, and the music shows this. It sounds like very talented musicians having fun at a party, but the music stays precise, yet not rigid. What makes the record work is that it doesn’t try to give us any new style of music. It sticks with styles like blues structures, R&B grooves, barroom riffs, and pure country. Sometimes bundled all together for our listening pleasure. 

The music slips easily into different styles like changing socks. The first song that got my attention on this album is the song Teardrops On Your Letter for its soulful sound and that tremelo guitar to open it. Sahm knocks that vocal out of the park.  They cover Dylan with Just Like A Woman and it is a version I will go back to.

Louis Riel is another song that caught me right away. Again, it was the soulful voice of Sahm.  The opener Smack Dab In The Middle is somewhere in the middle of R&B and Country. Big Mamou is pure old school country. Probably my favorite on the album is Queen of the Okanagan. 

The record blends blues, R&B, country, and Texas roots music while blurring the lines between them. Sahm’s voice carries a lot of it while Garrett’s guitar fills the spaces with that clean tone and bending style. Gene Taylor’s piano is a big part of this album as well. 

There’s a loose feel across the album, but it’s not sloppy. It’s the kind of looseness that comes from experience. If you’ve spent time with Sahm’s solo records or the Texas Tornados, this sits right alongside that world, just scaled down a bit.

The album won the Juno Award for Best Roots & Traditional Album at the Juno Awards of 1989. Also, here is a 15-minute interview with Doug Sahm. He tells a lot about his history in this one. 

Connie Converse

I wrote this for Lisa’s WMM (Women Music March) as I have proudly done for the past few years in March. Lisa was one of the first followers I had when starting out, and she is one of the readers who helped build my site in a lot of ways. Please go see the original post and visit her site. Thanks, Lisa!

It’s a shame she is more remembered for what may or may not have happened to her than for her music. She has been hailed for being ahead of her time, and she was. I plead with everyone reading this, please look her up and read some things about her. I have barely scratched the surface with this post.

Connie Converse is one of the most unusual stories in folk music or music in general. She wrote quiet, thoughtful songs in the early 1950s. That was years before the folk revival made that style popular. At the time, almost no one outside a small circle of friends heard her music. Decades later, people realized she had been doing something new long before it became fashionable.

She was born Elizabeth Eaton Converse in 1924 in New Hampshire. She grew up in a strict Baptist family and showed an early interest in writing and music. After leaving college, she moved to New York City in the late 1940s. She went there hoping to find a place in the arts. Instead of the louder folk style that would come later, Converse wrote reflective songs that sounded closer to personal thoughts or even letters.

During the early 1950s, she performed occasionally in New York apartments and small gatherings. Her friend Gene Deitch, who later worked in animation, recorded many of her songs at home on a tape machine. In 1954, she appeared on The Morning Show on CBS, singing several of her compositions. The appearance did not lead to a recording contract, and by the end of the decade, she stepped away from performing.

In the early 1960s, Converse moved to Michigan and worked in publishing and writing. Music slowly faded from her life, and she became a huge activist on racism. On August 10, 1974, she wrote letters to friends and family and packed her belongings into a Volkswagen Beetle and drove away from her Ann Arbor, Michigan home. She was never heard from again, and her disappearance remains unexplained.  She left letters indicating a desire to start a new life and instructed friends/family not to look for her.  No traces of her or her car were ever found. There have been theories about her.  While she may have started a new life, the most widely discussed theories include suicide (possibly by driving into a body of water) or death by misadventure.

Several years after she left, someone told her brother Philip that they had seen a phone book listing for “Elizabeth Converse” in either Kansas or Oklahoma, but he never pursued the lead. About ten years after she disappeared, the family hired a private investigator in hopes of finding her. The investigator told the family, however, that even if he did find her, it was her right to disappear, and he could not simply bring her back. After that, her family respected her decision to leave and ceased looking for her.

Her music might have stayed unknown if Gene Deitch had not preserved those early tapes. In 2009, the label Squirrel Thing Recordings released a collection of her recordings. For the first time, people heard the songs she had written more than fifty years earlier. Listeners were struck by how modern they sounded, both in their lyrics and their quiet delivery.

Today, Connie Converse is often mentioned as a lost pioneer of singer-songwriter music. She worked alone with a guitar, writing direct songs about daily life, loneliness, and independence, years before artists in the 1960s folk revival made that approach common.

What makes Connie Converse interesting is timing. She was writing personal, singer-songwriter-style material in the early 1950s, almost a decade before that approach became common. If these songs had been recorded during the 1960s folk revival, her story might look very different.

Connie Converse: “Human society fascinates me and awes me and fills me with grief and joy; I just can’t find my place to plug into it”

“I believe all true art is, in this sense, impersonal:
its value does not depend on knowing or thinking anything
about its maker. Art is not an extension of the artist’s personality,
but has its own life”

“The problem, or at least a problem, I’ve been told —
is that I am not very concerned about being missed
upon any of my exits, not the ones that are voluntary
nor the ones that swoop down without warning
to cover me in a quilt of dark feathers”.