It was recorded at the Continental Club in Houston, Wednesday, October 24th as part of the Wicked Wednesday there.

Lyrics after the break.

Spent My Time

I could have been a rich man.
I could have saved every cent,
Been thrifty everywhere I went.
I’d be diving in my money like a porpoise.
I got no regrets.

I could have been a traveler.
I could have roamed the countryside,
Could have found my tribe.
They’d probably built me an altar of gold and ivory.
I got no regrets.

Because I spent my time,
Every season, every dime -
I spent my time
Learning everything about you.

I could have been a cowboy,
Or an athlete or a star.
Could have learned this damn guitar.
Guess I don’t need none of that.
I got no regrets.

Well, it ain’t an easy life.
Untangling your mysteries every day,
What you mean when you say, “OK.”
Could be a dozen different things.
I got no regrets.

Because I spent my time,
Every season, every dime -
I spent my time
Learning everything about you.

When all my days are over,
And I’ve done all I’m going to do,
When that last phone rings,
And my obituary is due,
They’ll write down,
“Noted lover of you,
and quite the scholar.”

Because I spent my time,
Every season, every dime -
I spent my time
Learning everything about you.

Mel’s voice steps up, and so does Dan’s guitar. My guitar playing, mercifully, sinks a bit into the background.

D the B says check it out.

This song was inspired by two things: shitty relationships that I’ve had and this picture.

Happy Birthday, Mrs. K

We were adam and eve in a casino back then,
Just trying to figure out the mess we were in.
Thirteen months of trying – and we just couldn’t agree,
But i loved the way you used to swear at me.

I just called to say
I miss you and your ways,
And that black star tattoo,
And that ambivilent look on you.
I just called to say
Happy birthay, Mrs. K.

We were young and I was afraid,
And you were crazy like a mermaid parade.
I loved you since that time you threw me out.
If i was smarter back then, i would have figured that out.

I just called to say
I miss you and your ways,
And that black star tattoo.
Nobody sells lipstick like you do.
I just called to say
Happy birthay, Mrs. K.

What are you looking at me for?
I’m outside and it’s cold, you know.
I’m out here in my overcoat and half a foot of snow.
I just wanted to say
I just wanted to say
Happy birthday, Mrs. K

This is pretty universally read as lesson that you should not kill your brother.

This seems a little shallow to me.

I think it’s possible that Abel might have had a certain amount of hubris, being both the very first born and the favorite son of God. And, perhaps, he did not wear this hubris well.

I think what that story is about is the choices you make, and the price you pay.

Abel Had It Coming

It was another hot day … in the ancient holy land.
Cain had just invented murder. He had the blood on his hand.
God was out cruisin’, enjoying his seventh day,
And when he put it in park, he heard the guilty man say.

With you as my witness,
And my six strings strumming,
Ain’t no joy in being right …
And Abel had it coming.
You’re gonna reap what you sow.
Abel had it coming.

Eve started crying … like a momma would.
But she knew both her boys, and she understood.
She knelt down, leaned out and touched Abel’s head
She wiped a tear, looked at Cain, and turned to her God and said

With you as my witness,
And my six strings strumming,
Ain’t no joy in being right …
And Abel had it coming.
You’re gonna reap what you sow.
Abel had it coming.

He was always holding it over others bad, bad, bad.
Never did a lick of work and he lied to say he had
Resting when he should have been working; playing when he should have been in school
Was willfully ignorant and maliciously cruel
Always looking out for number one
Keep your eye on the fortunate son.

With you as my witness,
And my six strings strumming,
Ain’t no joy in being right …
And Abel had it coming.
You’re gonna reap what you sow.
Abel had it coming.

Well, God marked Cain in his omnipotent way
And Cain wandered the earth til the end of his days
God hopped in the holy Cadillac and he drove away
And as he pulled out of sight, only the angels heard him say

With you as my witness,
And my six strings strumming,
Ain’t no joy in being right …
And Abel had it coming.
You’re gonna reap what you sow.
Abel had it coming.

So I wrote an uptempo song about getting out of prison on a bus.

Gone Greyhound

Well, the judge didn’t dig me and he just couldn’t see it my way
So he put me in the state pen for three years and thirty days
But the parole board said I’m okay
And they sprung my ass today
And now I’m gone Greyhound, I’m gone.

For three long years, i could hear that highway whine
Behind a cement wall, a pack of dogs and a razor line
But now I’m outside of those bars
In a world full of women and cars
And I’m gone Greyhound, I’m gone

Reno, Nevada, I can’t believe I’m glad to see you.
I got thirty dollars and I got some drinking to do.
Driver won’t you open that door?
Cause I’m a free man once more -
And I’m gone Greyhound, I’m gone.

Gone Greyhound, ain’t got no more sorrow
Gone Greyhound, you won’t see me tomorrow
No more pain. No more doubt.
Because I’m gone Greyhound. I’m out.

Two Lanes of Blacktop

Well, I got so tired of myself one day
I took a good life and just threw it away
Then I broke a window, and then I stole a car
Then I drove a thousand miles just to get to this bar

CHORUS:
Two lanes of blacktop
Two lanes of blacktop
Come on, baby, we could disappear
Down two lanes running down a highway near here.

Well I got so tired of my job one day
When I decided it just didn’t matter anyway
My boss said, “Hey, buddy, you won’t get far.”
And I said, “Fuck you, man.” – and I bought a red guitar

CHORUS

Well I got so tired of my exit sign
I thought I’d stay on and see the next one
And my home town vanished so god damned fast
Like the smoke out the barrel of a gun

Now I’m gonna keep on goin’ – ain’t never gonna stop
Now I’m gonna keep on goin’ – ain’t never gonna stop
Now I’m gonna keep on goin’ – ain’t never gonna stop
Now I’m gonna keep on goin’ – ain’t never gonna stop

Well I got so mad with myself one day
Just thinking about the time I had just pissed away
Ain’t nothing I can do but pull my face from the fog
And push the accelerator down until I see God.

Boxcar

VERSE

The alarm clock was unsually insistent
And your suitcase kept looking out the door
The airport sang its same sad song
And the loading zone didn’t want me anymore

But I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself
And I decided to stop today
So I went down to the train yard
And said everything I had to say

CHORUS:
Wrote you a love letter on a boxcar baby
Spray-painted on a rust red Southern Line
Wrote you a love letter on a box car baby
Now I’m soaking up our claw foot tub, feeling fine

Now the moon’s been hanging around
And the stars are doing what stars always do
And we’re all just sitting here making small talk
While we wait for you

CHORUS

And the train said, ‘ooo-ooo-eee’
I’m gonna find her wherever she may be
And the train said ‘ooo-oo-alright’
She’ll be home the next damn night

CHORUS

Stop doing whatever you are doing right now and go to Waterloo Records and buy the new Porter Wagoner cd “Wagonmaster.” It’s the best Bruce Springsteen album in years. Trust me. You need this record. Don’t look it up or read about it, that’s just going to waste time that could be spent driving to the store to get it. Find your keys and your wallet, put your shoes on, and go…. now. Come on… move it.
billysteve

I did.

It’s a great album — in the full sense, in the sense that it’s a coherent piece of work, with a viewpoint that it wants to share with you, stories it wants to tell, and a full emotional arc. The songs are great, the production is awesome.

If you don’t dig the whole Bakersfield sound, you might not be able to get into it. But you should.

On a separate note, “Eleven cent cotton” rules. We might need to cover it.

Oh, Rita.