Tag: Dave Edmunds

When CB and I did the Dave Edmunds post a few weeks ago I had a couple of sentences about this one but I knew…I wanted to dive deeper. It’s such a likable song from the first time you hear it.

Bruce Springsteen wrote and recorded this song during the 1979 River sessions. Bruce didn’t release it though until 2003 on the bonus disc of The Essential Bruce Springsteen.  He would meet Edmunds in 1981 and give him the song (see long Dave Edmunds quote at the bottom…it’s well worth the read). Bruce described the song to Dave like this… “This is like a Chuck Berry thing that tells a story without repeating any of the lyrics, like The Promised Land.”

Bruce Springsteen and Dave Edmunds

You couldn’t have written a better song for Dave Edmunds. As Dave says…it was perfect for him. Edmunds released the song in 1982. The song peaked at #28 in the Billboard Mainstream Rock Charts and #15 in Sweden.

On July 4, 1981, Bruce Springsteen was playing at Wembley Stadium and Dave Edmunds went backstage. He wasn’t sure if Bruce would know who he was but of course, he did along with the E Street Band. Instead of me paraphrasing what he said…I think Dave should tell the story…not me.

Dave Edmunds: I’d never met Bruce Springsteen before and had no idea of what he knew about me (except, perhaps, for my recording of ‘I Hear You Knocking’ and a few others). How had he known that I was at the gig? The security guy led me through the backstage area to Bruce’s dressing room, where he was sitting alone. Being careful not to blurt out, “Great show, man!” (you don’t do that), and before either of us could say anything, a noisy E Street Band stormed through making their way towards the hospitality area: “Hi Dave, love your records!” And, “Hi Dave, you’re terrific, man!” – and so on. And off they went.

We talked – about what I don’t recall. He asked me if I’d been recording lately and I said, “No” – “Got anything…?” He strapped on his Fender Esquire and explained, “This is like a Chuck Berry thing that tells a story without repeating any of the lyrics, like The Promised Land.” And he played ‘From Small Things Mama Good Things One Day Come’ (not the snappiest of titles) – from beginning to end. It was perfect for me! “It’s yours, man!”

He hadn’t recorded the song but promised he’d lay down a rough cassette with just guitar and vocal – for me! “Gimme a couple of weeks…,” and I could pick it up at his manager’s office, in New York. In such encounters, such promises can evaporate before you leave the room. The way things worked out, I needed to be in New York a few weeks later, and that’s the truth. I went to his manager’s office and, sure enough, there was a cassette of Bruce’s song, with my name on it, awaiting me. That’s class.

Six months later, midway through a US tour with my band, I was playing at the Peppermint Lounge in Manhattan. Bruce turned up — unannounced and alone but for his Fender Esquire. It was good to see him. He waited patiently in the dressing room until the end of my set, and then (although the audience knew something was cooking) he sauntered onstage — you can imagine. We played a load of Chuck Berry songs and ended with “Small Things.” So, good things one day come.

From Small Things (Big Things One Day Come)

At sixteen she quit high school to make her fortune in the promised land
She got a job behind the counter in an all-night hamburger stand
She wrote faithfully home to mama, “Now mama, don’t you worry none
From small things, mama, big things one day come”

It was late one Friday, he pulled in out of the dark
He was tall and handsome, first she took his order then she took his heart
They bought a house up on the hillside where little feet would soon run
From small things, mama, big things one day come

Oh, but love was fleeting
It’s sad but it’s true
When your heart is beating
You don’t want to hear the news

She packed her bags and with a Wyomie County real state man
She drove down to Tampa in an Eldorado Grand
She wrote back, “Dear mama, life is just heaven in the sun
From small things, mama, big things one day come”

Well, she shot him dead
On a sunny Florida road
When they caught her all she said
Was she couldn’t stand the way he drove

Back home, lonesome Johnny waits for his baby’s parole
He waits high on the hillside where the Wyomie rivers roll
At his feet and almost grown now, a blue-eyed daughter and a handsome son
From small things, mama, big things one day come
From small things, mama, big things one day come
Well, from small things, mama, big things one day come

From small things, mama, big things one day come
From small things, mama, big things one day come
Yeah, from small things, mama, big things one day come