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Abandon Ship
An Act Of Faith
Afghan / Forklift
After The Storm
A Mission In Life
Amnesia
Animal Day
As I Went Out One Morning
Back In Flesh
Back Towards Diamond Bar
Bad News At The Dynamite Ranch
Bel Air Blues
Beloved Movie Star
Beloved Movie Star Redux
Beyond Tomorrow
Big American Problem
Big Dumb Town
Bing Can't Walk ('Cause Bob Broke Both His Legs)
Bold Marauder
Bongo Beatniks
Brand New Special And Unique
Buried The Pope
Bushwhacked
Call Box (1-2-3)
Calling Out To Carol
Call Of The West
Camouflage
Cannon Song
Can't Complain
Can't Make Love
Can't Stop The Show
Classic Hollywood Ending
Crack The Bell
Crow Hollow Blues
Crystal Palace
Deep Blue Polka Dot
Dogs
Don't Box Me In
Don't Drop The Soap (For Anyone Else But Me)
Down The Coast Highway
Drive, She Said
End Of An Era
End Of The Line
Exercise
Factory
Floundering
Foggy River
Fortune Cookies
Free Of It All
Full Of Tension
Funzone
Garage Band '69
God Sleeps In A Caboose
Goin' On Down To The BBQ
Goin' Southbound
Gone The Distance
Good Times
Granma's House
Hands Of Love
Harry Truman
Hear That Bird
Heat Takes A Walk
Hell In A Handbasket
Highway Song
In Total Focus
Into The Sun
Invisible Man
I Wanna Be A Boss
Jack Talked
King For A Day
Knife And Fork
Land Of Spook
Lonely Town
Longarm
Look At Their Way
Lost Weekend
Luther Played Guitar
Mama Had A Stove
Man Of Stone
Me And My Dad
Mexican Radio
Mickey The Priest
Mission Bell
Monsters Of The Id
Mouthful Of Sand
Mr. Smith
Murray's Steakhouse Story
My Exclusive Sex Club
My Own Universe
My Rose Marie (A Soldier's Tale)
Nadine
New Blue Mercedes
Newspapers
O.K.?
Old Bent Coin
On Interstate 15
Only A Hobo
Operator Help Me
Our Manhattan Moment
Overlords
Peg And Pete And Me
Picasso's Tear
Pick It Up (And Put It In Your Pocket)
Pile Driver
Pink Parakeet
Police Call
Rain On Down
Red Light
Right Through You
Ring Of Fire
Rio Greyhound
Robbers & Bandits & Bastards & Thieves
Running With The Carnival
Salesman
Sixteen Tons
Snaketrain
Something's Gonna Blow
Somewhere In The Dark
Spy World
Stormy Side Of Town
Stranded
Struggle
Susie Before Sunrise
Sweet Pig Alley
Talk Hard
Talkin' Wall Of Voodoo Blues Pt. 1
That Big 5-0
That Big Weird Thing
The AARP Is After Me
The Alibi Room
The Big Heat
The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly / Hang 'Em High
The Gumbo Man
The Last Honest Man
The Man In The Long Black Coat
The Passenger
The Roadblock
They Don't Want Me
This Way Out
Throw It Away
Time Inside
Time Wave Zero
Tomorrow
Train Of Thought
Triangle Head
Tse Tse Fly
Twisted
Two Guys With A Lot On Their Minds
Two Minutes Till Lunch
Uba's House Of Fashions
Underneath The Big Green Tree
Valerie Is Sleeping
Venus Is Hell
Wake Up Sally
Walkin' Home Alone
Wargasm 2005
Watch Your Step
Whatever Happened To You?
Whistle For Louise
Wild Bill Donovan
Your Rockin' Chair
Footnotes

Sailing, sailing, sailors on the ship––we're sailing
Captain up on deck while the first mate is wailing
Crew is down below, get yourselves up to bailing
Captain, sir, we cannot hold this course, I think we should abandon ship!

Storm is coming in, all hands on the railing
Waves are crashing now, and the mist we're inhaling
Captain orders all to stay the course that we're sailing
Water on the mainsail, grab a bucket or a pail and bail!

Sailing, sailing, sailors on the ship––we're sailing
Captain up on deck while the first mate is wailing
Crew is down below, get yourselves up to bailing
Captain, sir, we cannot hold this course, I think we should abandon ship!
We should abandon ship!

Someone up on deck, bloody sabre they are flailing
Captain's head is off, and to the mast we'll soon be nailing
Turn the ship to sea, or to a port where there's good whaling
Return the rum and turn the boat, and so now this hardtack we will chew!
What's a sailor s'posed to do!

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

With an act of faith, all the mountains would move
And the rain would stop all around
With an act of faith, all the dogs would stop barking
And we could move out of this town

Oh, the road up ahead would open up wide
We'd be the only ones at the line
With an act of faith
With an act of faith
With an act of faith
It'd be fine

With an act of faith, we could throw off the dust around
Leave the past way behind
We'd turn over those rocks and buy brand-new clean socks
And who knows what our shoes may soon find

All the birds in the trees would sing sweet harmony
And bring earthworms to eat on our way
With an act of faith
With an act of faith
With an act of faith
It's our day

Now I've heard what begins with an act of faith
Can bring about changes in life
Yeah, any bum on the street would stand up on his feet
And walk in direction of light
Yeah, up ahead I think I see some light!

We can bandage all the fences broken
Come together and shake hands like friends
With an act of faith
With an act of faith
With an act of faith
It begins
Right where this road used to end

stan says

I was in an old cowboy's frame of mind one day when this fell out of my head. A song that broke some writer's block for me and a song about mending old friendships that would have regrettably ended otherwise. I recorded it one afternoon in a backyard shed at a friend's house, alone, with the window open. There were a number of sharp tools lying around and I remember almost scalping myself on a pair of rusty hedge clippers hanging from the rafters. Sometimes it's best to take that leap and just trust what's there even though it could bring some pain. It's a simple, sparse song that I thought I'd re-record one day, but the more I heard this one, flaws and all, the more I felt it was just fine as it was. Don't put me back in that shed though.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 2001 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway

performers

Stanard Ridgway: vocals, all instruments

Ringin' on the telephone, pick it up and say
What's a man to do with all the trouble 'round today?
Heard it takes a worried man to sing a worried song
Sing it now, but Lord, don't let it all go on too long

Chorus:
Somethin' in the air, and it's movin' like a southbound train
Sun is goin' down, and it seems like I'll be the same

World keeps spinnin' 'round, people say there's debt to pay
I don't know––too busy with my life from day to day
But whosoever journeys up against that border line
The shadows of an ancient flame burn away in time

I was down in Arkansas, workin' graveyard shift
Movin' crates for exportation with a big forklift
Most were crackers, Coca-Cola, shoes and ceiling fans
Two were marked Top Secret, headed for Afghanistan

Chorus repeat

See shadows on the sun, see a comin' thundercloud
Nothin' will persuade, but all will be allowed
And some will seek their god from a heaven in the sky
Defendin' their affliction with a holy alibi

Ringin' on the telephone, pick it up and say
What's a man to do with all the trouble 'round today?
I'm callin' up the president, ask him what he say
No answer, left a message, when he's back from holiday

Chorus repeat

Now the drums are poundin', hear them blowin' on the horn
Two hands are on the hammer, and the fabric has been torn
Dam's about to burst, floods are all around
No more water, little Sylvie, 'cause I think I'm gonna drown

Ringin' on the telephone, pick it up and say
What's a man to do with all the trouble 'round today?
Heard it takes a worried man to sing a worried song
Sing it now, but Lord, don't make it all go on too long
All go on too long

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 2004 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2003

performers

Stanard Ridgway: guitar, harmonica, vocals
Pietra Wexstun: organ, backing vocals
Hayden Burke: bass
Bruce Zelesnik: drums, handclaps, percussion, 2 string jawbone
Alvin Fike: french horns

After the storm
We'll all need to dry out
And the forecast will be
Sunny and fair
After the storm

We'll have a big parade
And the smell of victory will be in the air
We'll march in the sun
And listen to speeches
Life will be a bowl of cream and peaches

After the storm
We'll be sucking on « swallows »
And driving our trucks in the sand
We'll redraw the maps
Wear snappy new caps
A gentle breeze will blow o'er the land

We'll pack up our things
Maybe get married
Throw off that weak, wussy
Feeling we carried
Bring it all home
In a bag to be buried
After the storm

After the storm
The flowers will grow
And pastures of plenty we'll see
We'll dig a few holes
Heat up a few coals
and have a big barbecue feed

We'll shine up our cars
Drive in the sun
Pitch a tent in the woods
And make a beer run
If somebody wants something
We might just give 'em some
After the storm

We'll march in the sun
And listen to speeches
And life will be a bowl of cream and peaches

notes

The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by John Relph and John Trivisonno.

stan says

Out for about a sec. or so as a b-side in Australia. I sometimes get mail from listeners that tell me their use for the music for things I'd never imagine. There's one crazy group that all wear engineer caps, drink beer and jump old freight trains while playing "Mosquitos" on a boombox. Others race dune buggies in the desert and light gasoline soaked tiers on fire and roll them down hills towards their friends while listening to "Ring Of Fire". I've seen the pictures. Hey, whatever gets you through I say. This one I imagine might be good for hitting yourself in the head with a ball peen hammer or maybe lying down on a sun soaked highway at noon and dodging a huge Peterbilt slamming down the I-15. It's good to know that songs can be useful for any activity of choice. After all, it's America here and I guess that's what this song makes me think of. Come to think of it, I think this started as an excuse to plug in my fuzz tone. Oh well, I hope they're insured out there.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1997 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway

performers

Ted "Sticks" Andersen: drums, percussion
Harlan Boddicker: bass guitar
Bob Elmo: bass guitar, cello, violin
Larry Grennan: percussion, background vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, acoustic & electric guitar, harmonica, theater organ, recorder
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, background vocals

Sue, turn out the lights
It's time to close up––we're through
Gotta clear it out
So let's drink up, it's past two
Girl, don't push 'em out
They can walk out on their own
How many times I gotta tell you, Bob,
You gotta drink up and go home
I don't run a business
Just to talk to you all day

Clear out the backroom, Sue
Stack up the chairs
Who broke this glass?
No one really cares
Go take the trash out
And vacuum the stairs
What do I
Pay you for?
And don't forget to sweep up
The glass off the floor

Once I had plans
To fix up this place
A room where you could go to
And meet people with taste
They'd talk and they'd laugh
And forget the rat race
And I'd be just like one of those guys
With the moustache and face
Hey, help me pick up this case

Hey, I'm really sorry I blew up then
I've had no sleep
I've been up all night with my wife and brother-in-law
You know, Pete
At times, this world can seem
Just like a cold icy ball
But don't let that discourage you
'Cause you're young––take that call
And if it's my wife
Just try and stall

I was just wondering
How you get home
Do you have a boyfriend?
Or do you live alone?
I'm going your way
If you're going mine
No, I feel fine
But before you go
Let me just pass on one thing

Chorus:
You've got a mission in life
To hold out your hand
To help the other guy out
Help your fellow man
That's why I own this bar
They're thirsty outside
I give 'em oceans to drink
Then they drown in the tide
repeat once, then repeat They just drown in the tide four times

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1989 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Joe Chiccarelli and Stanard Ridgway

performers

Joeseph Berardi: drums, percussion
Tim Landers: bass
Steve Reid: percussion
Marc Ribot: electric ghost guitar
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, piano
Bernard Sauser-Hall: keyboards
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards
Eric Williams: acoustic guitar, electric guitar

Commissioned for the movie Floundering

Remember me when it's over
Remember me when it's done
Remember me when it's rainin'
Remember me––I'm the one

And if somewhere I let you down
Or ever made you blue
Remember me for the way it was
And I'll remember you

Remember me when you're happy
Flyin' free in the sky
At 3 a.m. and the car door slams
Remember me when you're high

Remember me when the picture fades
Or your doctor makes a call
Remember me just for old time's sake
Or you just might forget it all

And everybody's got lessons they must learn
These days I feel a lot less time to burn
What one love will lose another love will « learn (earn?) »

Remember me when it's midnight
Or when it's hot and high noon
Or when the wind won't stop blowin' cold
Or when you heat up your spoon

Remember me when you feel alone
Helpless, without a clue
Remember me for the way it was
And I'll remember you

notes

The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.

stan says

Another one from "Floundering", with Zander Schloss again adding his inimitable touch. In the film this was called "My Drug Buddy" but I changed it later when I was told someone else had already used that title for a song. I think "Amnesia" describes the song better anyway. I don't know, I can't remember really. This was recorded in my little home studio, sung through a three inch, batter powered speaker from Radio Shack. I really liked the sound.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1994 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)

performers

Stanard Ridgway: vocals, keyboards, harmonica
Zander Schloss: banduria, lap steel, banjo

Grandma is a rhino
My brother is a dog
I can tell it's Animal Day
'Cause my best friend just turned into a frog
Mommy is a monkey
My girlfriend is a horse
But I'm not turning into anything––
I never caused animal wars!

Uh-oh!
Fur has covered my hands!
I'd better run to the mirror!
I'm an animal!

Chorus:
It's Animal Day
It's Animal Day
It's Animal Day
It's Animal Day

Now the animals have cars
They're starting to run us over
Notches on the steering wheel
My pet is calling me Rover
Deers are hunting for humans
Seals keep crushing our heads
Animals betting on us at the track
My animal's in my bed

Chorus repeat

notes

Not one of my favorite tracks, and I'm guessing not one of Stan's either. Listen to the live version on The Index Masters; he sarcastically says "It's pretty creative stuff, here..." after the first stanza, and a joyless "Yessiree, bob, it's Animal Day. What other day could it be but Animal Day." at the start of the instrumental section at the end. The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.

credits

Written by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1981 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Jim Hill, Paul McKenna, and Wall Of Voodoo

performers

Chas Gray: keyboards, synthesizers
Bruce Moreland: bass, keyboards
Marc Moreland: guitars
Joe Nanini: drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, keyboards, harmonica

As I went out one morning to breathe the air around Tome Paine's
I spied the fairest damsel that ever did walk in chains
I offered her my hand, she took me by the arm
I knew that very instant she meant to do me harm

Depart from me this moment I told her with my voice
She said but I don't wish to, said I but you've got no choice
I beg you sir, she pleaded from the corner of her mouth,
I will secretly accept you and together we'll fly south

Just then Tom Paine himself came a-runnin' across the field
Shouting at this lovely girl and commanding her to yield
And as she was letting go her grip, up Tom Paine did run
I'm sorry sir, he said to me, I'm sorry for what she's done

credits

Written by: Bob Dylan
Published by: © Copyright 1968, 1976 Dwarf Music

performers

Ted "Sticks" Andersen: drums, percussion
Harlan Boddicker: bass guitar
Bob Elmo: bass guitar, cello, violin
Larry Grennan: percussion, background vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, acoustic & electric guitar, harmonica, theater organ, recorder
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, background vocals

Someone smashed my alarm
It's got me on the edge
You know it's so sharp
(Aaaaaaaa...)
And you know I won't go
You know I won't go
I don't wanna go
(He won't go)
The corporation's boiling over
Everybody's taking over

Chorus:
And I'm back in flesh
Back in flesh
Back in flesh
Back in flesh
Back in flesh

You better sign your time card now
They don't care about you anyhow
Sign in, your minimum cut
You're late again, your salary's cut!

Someone smashed my alarm
It's got me on the edge
You know it's so sharp
(Aaaaaaaa...)
And you know I won't go
You know I won't go
I don't wanna go
(He won't go)
The corporation's boiling over
Everybody's taking over

Chorus repeat

I won't go
(He won't go.)
I don't wanna go
(You must go!)
Is it time to go?
(The orders are in!)
Well, I'd rather go bowling!
(The lanes are closed!)
Maybe a little tennis?
(Your racket's got a hole.)
How about some baseball?
(Field's rained out.)
Maybe a little fishing?
(The fish are on vacation.)
Well, how about some golfing?
(The greens are overgrown.)
Well, what about some swimming?
(I don't think so!)
Well, what about this––and that––
(No, no, no, no, no!)
Well, you can't tell me what to do!
Well, you can't tell me what to do!
(Hey, fuck you!)

notes

For the TV performance on Showbusiness Is My Life, "Hey, fuck you!" is softened to a gentle "Aw, shut up!" The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.

credits

Written by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1981 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Jim Hill, Paul McKenna, and Wall Of Voodoo

performers

Chas Gray: keyboards, synthesizers
Bruce Moreland: bass, keyboards
Marc Moreland: guitars
Joe Nanini: drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, keyboards, harmonica

A yellow moon hung low in the sky
The snake will crawl, the raven fly
And guilty hands will grip the wheel
Keep on the road, no skid or peel
And then I drove right down the road
I saw myself in a cloud of dust
I wanna drive, I wanna drive
With a trunkload of sin
I don't know the mess I'm in
The mess I'm in

I wanna fly high in the sky
Look right into the red bird's eye
I'm goin' east, I'm flyin' west
North and south––you take the test
In a rear view mirror––check for « red and tin »
I don't know the mess I'm in
The mess I'm in

I got a trunkload a' trash and tar
And I've been drivin' down that road
Back towards Diamond Bar
Diamond Bar...
Diamond Bar...
Diamond Bar...

notes

The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1995 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall

performers

Ivan Knight: Drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals

(instrumental)

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1991 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway

performers

Joe Berardi: drums, tympani
Joe Ramirez: bass, background vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, background vocals
Bernard Sauser-Hall: keyboards
Mark Shulz: guitar
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, background vocals

Runnin' down a purple shallow, goin' down somewhere
Goin' down the alleyway, lookin' for a dead dog with a custard pie
I am looking for a dildo in the sky
And if I find it soon, I think I'll call the Menendez boys

Chorus:
Think I'll call the Menendez boys

Turnin' on the TV set––hypnotic neon queen
Rollin' underwater in a green narcotic dream
Buy a big baseball bat, then call up the Rubberman
« In plastic frown, » blow up this town, think I'll call the Menendez boys

Chorus repeat x3

Coolin' out at Big 5¹, got a sleepin' bag and a new canteen
Shave my body of every hair––rub me down with amphetamine
Jump back in my rail––punchin' it I got spooked²
Remove tattoos, the Bel Air blues––think I'll call the Menendez boys

Chorus repeat

Livin' on a crooked road––like a dust bowl refugee
Crawlin' on the freeway––cleanin' my teeth with a barbecue comb
You can call me Sam, or you can bark my hole
And you can use my dick for a walkin' pole

Celebrity has his wake––a boomer red moustache
An angle slide in Baltimore––Top 40 pederast
Everybody got another 'nother plan
Everybody got another 'nother land
Never never never never never never never!
Never never never!

Chorus repeat x4

notes

The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1995 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall

performers

Ivan Knight: Drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals

My beloved movie star
There's more than cold cream in your jar
When eyebrows arch and lips are dry
When you're alone at night, you cry

Stuntmen make you feel secure
Wrap you up in soft allure
Your key light's bright, your close-up's now
This picture could tank, but you'll make out somehow

Can you hear the surf in Malibu
The red tide there is calling you
You are the part, why don't they know
Remember Tallulah, Janet, and Garbo

Behind you now
See someone there
She looks like you
With blonder hair
A newer one
With a younger glow
So you just cry all night
In your bungalow

My beloved movie star
Now I know just where you are
Up on a hill, in the backseat of a car
You're my beloved movie star

notes

This song was first released in August 2000 as a free MP3 download on MusicBlitz.
The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.

stan says

I had an office on Hollywood Blvd. back in the old days, where I had a studio for a while. The street was pretty run down then and not a day went by when you wouldn't see another young hopeful with stars in their eyes getting off the bus. Hollywood is a state of mind and not a city really. It's a dream. And like any dream, eventually you wake up. It's hard sometimes to hold on to reality in a place like that. This is actually a shorter version than what I initially wrote, but we'll get to that later. I love the harp on this, and Pietra's keyboard textures are great as well. I must admit that the movie "Sunset Blvd." was an inspiration here, as well as my own encounters with things of the Hollywood kind. Another mix of this is still available for download at MusicBlitz, and on my pal Wayne Kramer's "Beyond Cyberpunk" CD, a compilation of great music from the site.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 2000 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway

performers

Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar
Pietra Wexstun: autoharp, keyboards

My beloved movie star
There's more than cold cream in your jar
When eyebrows arch and lips are dry
When you're alone at night, you cry

Stuntmen make you feel secure
Wrap you up in soft allure
Your key light's bright, your close-up's now
This picture could tank, but you'll make out somehow

Manhattan calls
Ignore Hong Kong
Directors ring
But you stand strong
Drink champagne
And celebrate
The critics call
And they think you're great

My beloved movie star
I have watched you from afar
So confident and glamorous
Yeah you make it look so easy to us

Your agent calls, it's not your week
It's a younger one that now they seek
You are the part, why don't they know
Remember Tallulah, Janet, and Garbo

Behind you now
See someone there
She looks like you
With blonder hair
A newer one
With a younger glow
So you just cry all night
In your bungalow

My beloved movie star
Now I know just where you are
Up on a hill, in the backseat of a car
You're my beloved movie star

notes

This song was first released in August 2000 as a free MP3 download on MusicBlitz.
The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings and John Trivisonno.

stan says

Recorded at around 5 in the morning after a night of working the song through with everyone. Sun was just coming up. The first and more acoustic version of this song before I chopped it down and changed the approach. It's got more story and I like it longer like this. This happens to me a lot when I get writing a song. Most of the time I just let it be as long as it feels right for the story at first. Then I might record it another way. Listen for our dog Bart around the third verse, barking his approval. Or maybe he was just mad at his agent.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 2000 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway

Chorus:
Beyond tomorrow
Beyond tomorrow
Beyond tomorrow
Beyond tomorrow

We will be driving in
Little time bombs everywhere
On a street in a skyscraper
With aluminum hair
There'll be someone downstairs
Collecting all our names
Numbers all in a file somewhere
Everyone will be saved

Chorus repeat

Someone will be in the air
In a plane by the sea
I could be anywhere at all
If I could just be
I'll eat candied policemen
You'll eat farmers from hell
Everyone will be very modern
Can't you tell?

Chorus repeat

There could be another one
Come from the East
With a mark on his head
The sign of the beast
Then we will all extinguish
From this thing we call yeast
Did we come from yeast?

Chorus repeat

Way back when––in a petri dish
We were mated with some weird kind of fish
Then we grew arms and legs
Now we have 'em alive, no eggs

In a room far away near the capitol
There's a box that sits on someone's skull
We'll all be waitin' for the word comin' down
Meantime... let's blow this town

Chorus repeat x6 or 7

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1991 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway

performers

Joseph Berardi: drums, percussion
Larry Grennan: background vocals
Joe Ramirez: bass
Stanard Ridgway: vocals and background vocals
Bernard Sauser-Hall: keyboards
Mark Schultz: guitar
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, background vocals

Chorus:
I've got a big American problem
Somethin' that I cannot solve by myself
I've got a big American problem
Somethin' that I need some help from the shelf

Way down in Somalia
Where the starving children play
Where our soldiers are sittin' around
Wonderin' just what to do with the day
There are many people in the hills
And the hills have eyes
There is someone that waits for me
Like a spider waits for a fly

Chorus:
I've got a big American problem
Somethin' that I cannot solve by myself
I've got a big American problem
Somethin' that I better take off the shelf

In Sarajevo, there's lots of people standin'
Standin' there in the street, waitin' for you
Someone's comin' down to give them the answers
« And if they'd know just what they don't want to do »

Chorus:
I've got a big American problem
Somethin' that I cannot solve by myself
I've got a big American problem
« We'd better take that book from the shelf »

Have you got a big American problem too?
Somethin' that you cannot solve by yourself
Have you got a big American problem too?
Somethin' that you cannot solve by yourself?

I've got a big American problem (x4)
A problem! Problem! Problem! A problem! A problem!

notes

The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1995 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall

performers

Ivan Knight: drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals

Now when the city was in flame you were on the phone
Sellin' fire hoses at a premium loan
Yeah the bankers all smile but when you pass they frown
You're just a little too smart for a big dumb town

Now we seen you drivin' down the boulevard
You throw that trash but not in your backyard
But like Newton and the apple what goes up comes down
You're still a little too smart for a big dumb town

We'll all applaud when you break on through
"He's a genius, boys, but then we always knew..."

Yeah, lofty possibilities, you never had a doubt
We'd all scream from the bleachers when you'd always strike out
But now you're way out in front and you look glory bound
You're just a little too smart for a big dumb town

Now when the world is over, clocks run outta wind
Somebody will scrape through the ruins and find
A little picture of you and in a file they found
Sayin' just a little too smart for a big dumb town

Now you speak so soft but in your heart you're cold
In a tower of glass you've got a mountain of gold
Yeah you talk real sharp but we'll soon cut you down
You're still a little too smart for a big dumb town

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1996 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway

performers

Ted "Sticks" Andersen: drums, percussion
Harlan Boddicker: bass guitar
Bob Elmo: bass guitar, cello, violin
Larry Grennan: percussion, background vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, acoustic & electric guitar, harmonica, theater organ, recorder
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, background vocals

Commissioned for the film Slamdance

If you've got a friend that you want messed up
Just meet me on the corner by the Tail Of The Pup³
I'll be there soon if you'll wait a while
It'll be just one punch for my « patients (patience?) »
And a drawer full of dirty shirts
We'll find out just who hurts––'cause

Chorus:
Bing can't walk
Bob broke both his legs
Bing can't walk
Bob broke both his legs

You're the one that I'll remember most of all tonight
Someone let go of my string, I'm fallin' down like a broken kite
Who's to say, and who's to know––they don't know what I know
There's something out there floatin' free
Anything I had is tangled up in the branches of a hangman's tree

Chorus repeat

Like a punch in the face or a kick in the groin
There's nothin' goin' down––goin' down but the dollar and the coin

Greasy little fingers point to ugly little lies
Hide them in a hope chest in an attic in Van Nuys
Trusted friendships can go sour––betrayal at the midnight hour
Just remember––I hate to lose

There's something out there floatin' free
Anything I had is tangled up in the branches of a hangman's tree––'cause

Bing can't walk
Bing can't walk

Chorus repeat

A touch of sin could break your back
Or scramble up your eggs

But then I've got a personal code
I just hit 'em on the head, throw 'em in a trunk,
And then I drive on down the road
Ha.

notes

The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings. The song credits are a bit light, but they're correct––they are from the Slamdance soundtrack.

stan says

A song for the movie thriller "Slamdance" that producer Mitchell Froom called me in to do. That's him on the organ. A friend who worked in television had just shown me some secret, horrific outtakes of a Bing Crosby TV special where he had tripped into the orchestra pit and broke his legs. A big piece of scenery even fell and struck Pearl Bailey on the head sitting in the front row. It made quite an impression! I certainly was not going to write anything called "Slamdance" so this subject matter seemed appropriately cryptic somehow for the film, a gangster kinda murder movie, with a lot of bones being broken and once close partners betraying one another. Being in the music business, I could relate.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1987 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Mitchell Froom

performers

Mitchell Froom: organ
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, all other instruments

It's hi, ho, hey
I am the bold marauder
And it's hi, ho, hey
I am the white destroyer

For I will bring you silver and gold
And I will bring you treasure
And I will bring a widowing flag
And I will be your mother
And I will show you grotto and cave
And sacrificial altar
And I will show you blood on the stone
And I will be your mentor
And night will be our darling
And fear will be our name

For I will take you out by the hand
And lead you to the hunter
And I will show you thunder and steel
And I will be your teacher
And we will dress in velvet and sword
And dip our tongues in slaughter
And we will sing a warrior's song
And lift the praise of murder
And Christ will be our darling
And fear will be our name

It's hi, ho, hey
I am the bold marauder
And it's hi, ho, hey
I am the white destroyer

For I will sour the winds on high
And I will soil the river
And I will burn the grain in the field
And I will be your mother
And I will go to ravage and kill
And I will go to plunder
And I will take a fury to wife
And I will be your father
And death will be our darling
And fear will be our name

Interlude:
And when you think about the end, what is the end, anyway?
Like, the end of what? The end of an era? The end of, a, like––
The end of a license? The end of a––end of what?
What is the end?
There is no end.
And you talk about the end––
there is no end.
And you figure 'bout––

credits

Originally performed by: Richard and Mimi Farina
Written by: Richard Farina
Published by: Richard Farina / ASCAP
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

Sittin' in the gaslight
Pickin' our goatees
Drinkin' cups of java
And talkin' with the fleas
Me? I got my shades on
Beret is pulled down low
Someone turns the lights on
And interrupts my flow

Chorus:
Bongo beatniks
Dig it daddy-o
Bongo beatniks
Waiting for Godot
Bongo beatniks
Dig it daddy-o
Bongo beatniks
Waiting for Godot

Diggin' bebop music
While the room is full of smoke
People snap their fingers
And ho-dads chew on rope
I'm groovin' to the beat
On the swingin' rhythm trail
I'm so cool I'm frozen
But I'll thaw out in jail

Chorus repeat

And I defect from everything I see
And I defect from the university

Sittin' in the gaslight
Pickin' our goatees
Drinkin' cups of java
And talkin' with the fleas
Me? I got my shades on
Beret is pulled down low
Someone turns the lights on
And interrupts my flow
My flow

Chorus repeat

Bongo beatniks!
Bongo beatniks!
Bongo beatniks!
Bongo beatniks!
Bongo beatniks!
Bongo beatniks!

stan says

I found this just the other day in a brown paper bag with some other stuff on cassette from the late 70's. Not bad, this. Its a rockin' little tune. The modern poets Samuel Beckett and Allen Ginsberg and the Ramones converged here to help me write this in 1975 as a song to hear something that WAS NOT on the radio at the time. I was playing top 40 gigs in Diamond Bar and trying to get my shit together. This was me finding out what I thought about writing songs and getting dead tired of Wings and The Doobie Brothers. Beatniks making a comeback. Me and my art bum friends could feel something musical was gonna blow wide open round '75... gee... guess it finally did! I played this just once in a place called "The Three Little Pigs" in West Covina just one time, and a 300 pound guy with an eye patch threw a beer at me. Pretty scary, but I finished the song. Beatniks never quit.

credits

Copyright 1975 by Stan Ridgway
Written and produced by: Stanard Ridgway

performers

Stanard Ridgway: like, everything you hear, man.

Youth is truth they say
And old is rolled away
Grey is shown the door
While youth just paints the floor
With many colors
Bright and rainbow colors
Bright and rainbow colors

Youth is truth they say
And old is rolled away
Grey is shown the door
While youth just paints the floor

Place your seats in view
And call your guards back home
Youth will watch our gates
And yell and scream our fates
And grey will write our say
But soon will move away
To the land of ancient things
Old and ancient things

Brand new, special and unique
Bring the new, replace the antique
repeat 2x

notes

The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by John Trivisonno.

stan says

Another grand Drywall opus that somehow never got nailed up for the public. To all of those that are still waiting for more sonic-mayhem from our little hardware band and "experimental noise-combo", the construction site is still open, so don't take off your hardhats yet. This one features Pietra's "time machine - Kmart chorus" of voices and samples, arc-welded to a sentiment that we imagined piped into every consumer's zombie shopping mall in the US, at a volume that would break glass. We tried to pitch something like this to a commercial for a dot com once but they said it would scare off new investors. Kinda like what happened with Drywall, but that's another story, best left for a new "document". The high voice at the end is me after inhaling too many paint fumes at the job site. Dot gone.

credits

Sun rose up that mornin'
A cardinal dressed in red
Ancient city flocked with people
Even pigeons had no bed
Prime ministers and kings
And queens and presidents behind the rope
And you could hear the hearts a-beatin' like through a giant stethescope
That's the day they buried the pope

Groups of nuns lit candles
Bowed their heads in prayer
Old men stood there and cried––
Thousands in Saint Peter's Square
The pilgrims all applauded
As they bore his wooden coffin through the incense smoke
And it was said among the crowd "He was a man of peace and hope"
That's the day they buried the pope

Chorus:
That's the day they buried the pope 5x

Now, mothers and their children
And folks from far away
Came through traffic jams and accidents
And I heard somebody say
When a world is in confusion
It make the devil hard to see––even with a big microscope
And the wind was turnin' pages on the book there that he wrote
That's the day they buried the pope

And there were police on the rooftops lookin' down with telescopes
That's the day they buried the pope

Yeah, the world choked up with lies
And politician double-speak
Nowhere to get the truth sometime
But some will always seek
Now, you can criticize it, run it down, maybe religion's not your dope
But it's hard to argue solid, 'bout a man of peace and hope
That's the day they buried the pope
Buried the pope.

Chorus:
That's the day they buried the pope 4x
Yeah, they put him in the ground along there with the other folk
That's the day they buried the pope

Interlude:
Check!
Okay.
Maybe, a little slower, huh? Uh-huh.
Two, three––

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

Spoken by George W. Bush:
Mister Speaker, members of Congress, and fellow citizens:
Every year, by law and by custom, we meet here to threaten the world.
The American flag stands for corporate scandals, recession, stock market declines, blackmail, burning with hot irons, mutilation with electric drills, cutting out tongues, terror, mass murder, and rape.
Our first goal is to show utter contempt for the environment.
I have sent you a––I have sent you a comprehensive energy plan to devastate communities, kill wildlife, and burn away millions of acres of treasured forests.
This government is taking unprecedented measures to protect our people and defend our homeland.
We've posted more than fifty small men in airports, begun inoculating troops and first responders against hopelessness, and this year––for the first time––we must offer every child in America three nuclear missiles.
Today, we have arrested or otherwise dealt with many key commanders of Al-Qaeda.
They include a man who directed logistics and funding for the CIA, members of Congress, Vice President Chaney, one of them is found at the Department Of Defense.
One by one the terrorists are learning we are building a culture to encourage international terrorism.
Almost three months ago, the UN Security Council gave Saddam Hussein his final chance to disarm.
US Intelligence indicates that Saddam Hussein had the materials to produce three liters of anthrax.
Enough doses to kill five children.
The British government has learned that Saddam Hussein recently had an advanced nuclear weapon in his arse even while inspectors were in his country.
Our intelligence sources tell us that he has attempted to purchase three hydrogen-powered doctors and the western wall of the Pentagon.
Saddam Hussein has not credibly explained these activities.
The United States will ask the UN Security Council to consider Iraq's ongoing defiance of the world.
Secretary of State Powell, plant information to incite fear about Iraq's links to terrorist groups.
I have a message for the people of Iraq: go home and die.
Trusting in the sanity and restraint of the United States is not a strategy and it is not an option.
In all these efforts, however, America's purpose is more than to follow a process. It is to achieve a result: the end of the civilized world.

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

I press the buttons now
Voice keeps poppin' on the call box out
Mop-man, do you receive?
Ten-four, I gotta pull out
I got an ETA, five-thirty on the dot
A little bit later, it'll thicken the plot

Chorus:
They always tell me what's not is not
I just gotta get that 1-2-3
It's funny how these things always happen to me
I just gotta get that 1-2-3

Now, by the force of circumstance
And by the belt that holds up my pants
I'm held responsible
For this idea that never had a chance
When they call out the guard tonight
He'll cut the alarm and switch off the light

Chorus:
I get a funny feeling that wrong is right
I just gotta get that 1-2-3
It's funny how these things always happen to me
I just gotta get that 1-2-3

1 2 3
A B C
Like you and me
Like 1 2 3
1 2 3
1-2-3
A B C
1-2-3
1 2 3
1-2-3
It's a combination...

I press the buttons nowwww!

I press the buttons now
Voice keeps poppin' on the call box out
Mop-man, do you receive?
Ten-four, I gotta pull out
I got an ETA, five-thirty on the dot
A little bit later, it'll thicken the plot

Chorus:
They always tell me what's not is not
I just gotta get that 1-2-3
It's funny how these things always happen to me
I guess I gotta get that 1-2-3

1 2 3
A B C
Like you and me
Like 1 2 3
Not is not, not is not!
Not is not, not is not...

notes

The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.

credits

Written by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1981 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Jim Hill, Paul McKenna, and Wall Of Voodoo

performers

Chas Gray: keyboards, synthesizers
Bruce Moreland: bass, keyboards
Marc Moreland: guitars
Joe Nanini: drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, keyboards, harmonica

Calling out to Carol
She could really twist the screws
What'cha doin' Monday
And are you back on the booze?
Now, I've been dooin' some thinkin'
About Colorado Springs
A dirty denim jacket
And a seven-dollar ring

Well, I've been keepin' busy
I've got lots of pots boiling on the stove
Who's that in the background
I'm sorry that I asked––I guess I should have known

Chorus:
Callin' out to Carol on the telephone call
Message on a wire comin' through a wall
Talk about old times but not too long ago
Carol was the girl that everybody got to know

When'd you change your number? Hey, Carol!
It's different than you had
Have you got protection?
I know some police are bad
But that's not why I called you up, now
You know I quit that scene
I told ya 'bout your pictures
I guess I'll buy that magazine

And I still remember
All those days we spent alone
You went one way while I went the other
Sometimes, I guess, that's the way things go

Chorus:
Callin' out to Carol on a telephone call
Message on a wire comin' through a wall
Talk about old times but not too long ago
Carol was the girl that everybody got to know
Callin' out to Carol gets a busy tone
Sees a lot of people but she lives alone
Pick up the reciever––love will come and go
But Carol was the girl that everybody got to know

When they called me in the morning
And told me that she'd gone
I didn't want to hear it
So I just hung up the phone

Chorus:
Callin' out––Callin' out to Carol
Callin' out––Callin' out to Carol
Callin' out––Callin' out to Carol
Callin' out to Carol
Callin' out to Carol on a telephone call
Message on a wire comin' through a wall
Is this line in service––operator says no
But Carol was a girl that everybody got to know

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1989 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Joe Chiccarelli and Stanard Ridgway

performers

Joseph Berardi: drums
Bruce Fowler: trombones
Jim Lang: vibraharp
Joe Ramirez: bass
Steve Reid: bongos and percussion
Marc Ribot: electric guitar
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, keyboards
Eric Williams: acoustic guitar, hammer dulcimer, mandolins, 12-string electric guitar

He got the high sign so he jumped a bus
Along the roads that wind on through
The hot Mojave and the Jericho
He'd start his whole life anew
And what he left behind he hadn't valued
Half as much as some things
He never knew

Right around sundown...
He got dropped off on a street in town
Where a grey old man looked him up and down and said
"Son, this ain't no western movie matinee
You're a long way off from yippie-yi-yay
'Cause I can tell at a glance you're not from 'round these parts
You've got a green look about'cha––that's a gringo for starts
Sometimes the only thing a western savage understands
Are whiskey and rifles and an unarmed man
Like you"

"So you gotta keep on the move!
Don't let that fancy paint job fool you!"
Then the old timer pulled him close and said

You've got a long way, I know
You've got a longer drive ahead
Through the bones of the buffalo
Through the claims of the western dead, and––
Just like the spokes of a wheel
You'll spin 'round with the rest
You'll hear the drums and the brush of steel
You'll hear the call of the west, call of the west
You'll hear the call of the west, call of the west

spoken
Harshly awakened by the sound of six rounds of light-caliber rifle fire
Followed minutes later by the booming of nine rounds from a heavier rifle
But you can't close off the wilderness
He heard the snick of a rifle bolt
And found himself peering down the muzzle
Of a weapon held by a drunken liquor store owner
"There's a conflict," he said, "there's a conflict
Between land and people
The people have to go
They've come all the way out here to make mining claims
To do automobile body work
To gamble
Take pictures
To not have to do laundry
To own a mini-bike
Have their own CB radios and air conditioning
Good plumbing for sure
And to sell Time/Life books and to work in a deli
To have a little chili every morning
And maybe... maybe to own their own gas stations again
And take drugs
Have some crazy sex
But above all, above all, to have a fair shake
To get a piece of the rock and a slice of the pie
And spit out of the window of your car and not have the wind blow it back in your face"

Now, from the high timberline to the deserts dry
Who'll risk dangling on some hangman's tree
To stake their claims on these prarie plains
While they say this lunch is not had for free?
Just like the spokes of a wheel
Who'll spin 'round with the rest
They'll hear the drums and the brush of steel
And I'll hear the call of the west, call of the west
(Yippie-yi-yo, yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay, yippie-yi-yo-ohh-ohh)
I'll hear the call of the west, call of the west
(Yippie-yi-yo, yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay, yippie-yi-yo-ohh-ohh)
I'll hear the call of the west, call of the west
(Yippie-yi-yo, yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay, yippie-yi-yo-ohh-ohh)
I'll hear the call of the west, call of the west
(Yippie-yi-yo, yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay, yippie-yi-yo-ohh-ohh)

spoken/shouted:
I used to be somebody!
I used to be somebody, do you hear me?
Do you hear me? I've been there!
I used to be somebody, god damn you!
I've been there before!
Don't walk away!
Well, you––you wanted unleaded?
Unleaded––that's next pump over, so keep on movin', okay?
No, it's out of order.

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

I was a P.F.C. on a search patrol, huntin' Charlie down
It was in the jungle wars of '65
My weapon jammed and I got stuck way out and all alone
And I could hear the enemy movin' in close outside
Just then I heard a twig snap and I grabbed my empty gun
And I dug in scared while I counted down my fate
And then a big Marine––a giant, with a pair of friendly eyes––
Appeared there at my shoulder and said "Wait."

When he came in close beside me, he said "Don't worry, son, I'm here––
If Charlie wants to tangle now, he'll have two to dodge"
I said, "Well, thanks a lot!" I told him my name and asked him his
And he said "The boys just call me Camouflage"

Chorus:
Woah-oh-oh-oh, Camouflage
Things are never quite the way they seem
Woah-oh-oh-oh, Camouflage
I was awfully glad to see this big Marine

Well, I was gonna ask him where he came from, when we heard the bullets fly
Comin' through the brush, and all around our ears
It was then I saw this big Marine light a fire in his eye
And it was strange, but suddenly, I forgot my fears

Well, we fought all night, side by side, we took our battle stance
And I wondered how the bullets missed this man
'Cause they seemed to go right through him––just as if he wasn't there
And in the mornin' we both took a chance and ran
And it was near the riverbank when the ambush came on top of us
And I thought it was the end, and we were had
Then a bullet with my name on it came buzzin' through a bush
And that big Marine, he just swat it with his hand
Just like it was a fly...

Chorus:
Woah-oh-oh-oh, Camouflage
Things are never quite the way they seem
Woah-oh-oh-oh, Camouflage
This was an awfully strange (big) Marine

{spoken}
And I knew there was somethin' weird about him,
'Cause when I turned around,
He was pullin' a big palm tree up outta the ground
And swattin' those Charlies with it from here to kingdom come

When he led me outta danger I saw my camp and waved goodbye
He just winked at me from the jungle and then was gone
When I got back to my H.Q., I told 'em about my night
And the battle I'd spent with a big Marine named Camouflage
When I said his name, the soldier gulped, and a medic took my arm
And led me to a green tent on the right
He said "You may be tellin' true, boy, but this here is Camouflage
And he's been right here since he passed away last night
In fact, he's been here all week long...
But before he went, he said Semper Fi, and said his only wish
Was to save a young Marine caught in a barrage
So here, take his dog tag, son, I know he'd want you to have it now"
And we both said a prayer for a big Marine named Camouflage

Chorus repeat

So next time you're in a jungle fight, and you feel a presence near
Or hear a voice that in your mind will lodge
Just be thankful that you're not alone––you've got some company
From a big Marine the boys call Camouflage

Chorus repeat x2

Hup, hey-ho, hey, left... left...
Woah, woah, Camouflage
Hey, hey-ho, ho, left... left...
Woah, woah, Camouflage
repeat endlessly until fade...

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1986 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Louis Van Den Berg, Stanard Ridgway

performers

Chris Becerra: drums
Mark Cohen: banjo, mandolin
Mark Lewis: ghost platoon
Mark Morris: ghost platoon
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitars, keyboards
Louis Van Den Berg: keyboards

From The Threepenny Opera by Kurt Weill. Also known as Army Song. Commisioned for Lost In The Stars.

John was all present and Jim was all there
And Georgie was up for promotion
Not that the Army gave a bugger who they were
When confronting some heathen commotion

Chorus:
The troops live under
The cannon's thunder
From Sind to Cooch Behar
Moving from place to place
When they come face to face
With a different breed of fellow
Whose skins are black or yellow
They quick as winking chop him into
Beefsteak tartar

Johnny found his whiskey too warm
And Jimmy found the weather too balmy
But Georgie took them both by the arm
And said "Don't ever disappoint the army!"

Chorus repeat

John is a write-off and Jimmy is dead
And Georgie was shot for looting
And young men's blood goes on being red
And the army still goes on ahead recruiting

Chorus repeat

credits

Written by: Kurt Weill / Bertolt Brecht / Marc Blitzstein
Originally Published by: © Copyright 1928 Universal Edition
Published by: © Copyright 1955 WB Music Corp (copyright renewed and reassigned)
Produced by: Hal Wilner and Paul M. Young
Arrangement: Bruce Fowler

performers

Stanard Ridgway: vocals
The Fowler Brothers: brass, woodwinds, bass, percussion

"How you doin', Bert?" "Well, not so good, Charlie,
My back's gone out and I got my finger cut gnarly.
The job's the same, and so's the boss.
He's still a big ass, and my wallet got lost.
My wife's sick in bed, she says she'll never get well.
And all these kids today have gone to hell.
And all that government paperwork caught up with me––
Had to hire a beancounter for an outrageous fee.
And I don't know if the chicken or the egg is to blame
But all things considered, I guess I can't complain."

"Cheer up," Charlie said, "things could be worse."
"Well, yeah, I know, but did I tell ya that
My landlord's a cop? My neighbor's insane?
But all things considered, I guess I can't complain."

Chorus:
Out on the water
Where the sailing men all go
The water's high,
While all the fish swim low
Out on the water
Where the sailing men all go
The water's high,
While all the fish swim low

"You know what, Bert?" Charlie said, "You've got the wrong attitude.
Sometimes life's a big game, and the paths, you can choose.
Things may go wrong, but you've gotta stand tall."
"Well, I know," Bert said, "But well, that ain't all.
My hair's fallin' out. The roof leaks when it rains.
But all things considered, I guess I can't complain."

Chorus repeat

"You know what, Bert?" Charlie said, "You're a real loser.
So I'll see you next week––if you live 'til then."
As Bert walked out to the sidewalk, ten floors up
Two men lost control of a hoist at just the right time
And a big Steinway grand flattened Bert like a dime.
And as a crowd gathered 'round and asked, what was his name?
And could it be the chicken, or the egg to blame?
Well, the only thing heard was that he couldn't complain.

So if you're a loser in life, and your gun's outta ammo,
Just remember the story of Bert and the piano.
'Cause if you can't string the bow––and you're clean outta rosin⁴
Someone may have planned for a music lesson.
Keep your eyes to the sky; it could be a brand name
And remember, all things considered, you really can't complain.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1989 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Joe Chiccarelli and Stanard Ridgway

performers

Joseph Berardi: drums, marimba, congas
Larry Grennan: backing vocals, weights and pulleys
Ken Jones: additional tracking
John Porter: additional tracking
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, keyboards, piano accident
Bernard Sauser-Hall: keyboards
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards
Eric Williams: acoustic guitar, ukulele, poi

Well, I can't make love
To the girls in this city
'Cause the girls
Say I abuse them
And I won't go out
With girls because
Girls will fall in love with you
Everybody's lonely, that's true

Maybe it's psychology
I don't know, I gotta move someplace

I can't make love
To the girls in this city
'Cause the girls
Say I abuse them
And I won't go out
With girls because
Girls will fall in love with you
Everybody's lonely, that's true

Maybe it's psychology
I don't know, I gotta move someplace
Where the girls are easy
And it makes me miss my lonely city
And the girls are so easy
And it makes me miss my lonely city
And it seems so easy
But I can't say the words that are on my mind

Chorus:
"I'm a nice guy but I don't love you––
I just wanna sleep with you."
"I'm a nice guy but I don't love you––
I just wanna sleep with you"

Well, I can't make love
To the boys in this city
'Cause the boys
Say I abuse them
And I won't go out
With boys because
Boys will fall in love with you
Everybody's lonely, that's true

Maybe it's psychology
I don't know, I gotta move someplace
Where the boys are easy
And it makes me miss my lonely city
And the girls are so easy
And it makes me miss my lonely city
And everybody's so easy
But I can't say the words that are on my mind

Chorus repeat

"I'm a nice guy..." repeat until fade

credits

Written by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1980 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Jim Hill, Paul McKenna, and Wall Of Voodoo

performers

Chas Gray: synthesizer
Bruce Moreland: bass, piano
Marc Moreland: guitar
Joe Nanini: percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, organ

There's a man in a booth with a quarter in there
And a girl out on the runway with peroxide in her hair
Move 'em in quick, they pay out
And then they just sit there and stare

Now drink that drink and smoke that smoke
Old Mister Johnson turns blue and starts to choke
Somebody slap him on the back

Now the curtains go up
And both lights go on
And Betsy's out there in her birthday suit
Spinnin' her baton

Chorus:
And they don't know what we know
Nobody knows what we know
(And) No matter what they try to do
They can't stop the show

Now, girls, I'm proud of every one of you
Cass, spit out your gum, it don't look good when you chew
And I've told you time and time before
You're a showgirl, not a whore
Jack, pick up the phone, is it those jerks again?
You'd think they'd know by now that these girls just dance and grin
Just good clean entertainment
We don't handle no tricky-business in here

The curtains go up
And both lights go on
And Betsy's in her birthday suit
Spinnin' her baton
But I think she did it better last year
Before her boyfriend broke her arm

Chorus:
And they don't know what we know
Nobody knows what we know
And No matter what they try to do
They can't stop the show repeat four more times

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1986 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Louis Van Den Berg, Stanard Ridgway

performers

Louis Van Den Berg: keyboards
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar
Mike Terlizzi: bass
Mike Watt: bass

Hear the wind blow back those sycamore trees
There's a screen test haunting my memories
I've been driving down the boulevard, not much change
It's the same old town, just rearranged
But by the time our feature ended, fear still stood
Like an old time movie, like a film from Hollywood

Oh, my screen goes up, and my lights go down
My picture starts but there is no sound
The only thing I hear is a guitar play
From a lonesome place so far away
And I'd let you do the rewrite now, if I only could
Like an old time movie, like a film from Hollywood

Now when that scene starts to fade out fast
The one where I exit, stage right
And then we cut to the boxing match
Inside the colosseum, with that crowd so ugly

And by the time we see dreams disappear
The audience has learned to cheer
But then fashion changed that underground
It's the same old circus with brand new clowns
And I'm lookin' out this window now on the corner where we stood
Like an old time movie, like a film from Hollywood

Now I never knew how your curtain came down
Or what was backstage in your mind
We never played that lost reel we found
The lights went up, and we'd run out of time
Out of time

And it's only when the curtain's down that the ending's understood
Like an old time movie, like a film from Hollywood

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 2004 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2003

performers

Stanard Ridgway: mandolin, nylon guitar, harmonica, vocals
Pietra Wexstun: piano, samples
Alvin Fike: woodwinds and brass
Laslo Vickers: cellos, cinema string quartet
Hayden Burke: bass, popcorn box
Bruce Zelesnik: percussion, marching drum

spoken: Thanks a lot, thanks a whole lot.

Lulu sends her friends
They cover their mouths with one hand
While I keep waiting here
Drifting around in a dark land
« And the lone hunter / Envelope upturned »
I push the stamp and stick it

Chorus:
And I know there's a bell to crack
And I know there's a bell to crack

Well, I hear crosstalk now
Coming through the wire
One voice tells me yes
The other is a liar

Chorus:
And I know there's a bell to crack
I know there's gotta be one more bell to crack

Click-clack, joint, « the sticker's on my sleeve / this thing is on my sleeve »
All this mess around and I gotta clean it up
Okay, Mister Questions, you tell me, when are we gonna leave?
And can you design a heart––a heart that doesn't bleed?

Chorus:
I know there's gotta be one more bell to crack
I know there's gotta be one more bell to crack
Seen a bell, so I crack it
You just can't find good bells anymore!
Yah! Yah! Sure!
Tom Shane's a friend of mine!
I really like him––he's in the industry!
I know there's gotta be one more bell to crack
I know there's gotta be one more bell to crack

notes

For those of you who have never lived in California: Tom Shane runs a chain of jewelry stores, and does his own radio commercials. Their slogan is "Now you've got a friend in the diamond business. The Shane Company." The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.

credits

Written by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1981 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Jim Hill, Paul McKenna, and Wall Of Voodoo

performers

Chas Gray: keyboards, synthesizers
Bruce Moreland: bass, keyboards
Marc Moreland: guitars
Joe Nanini: drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, keyboards, harmonica

Working title: Swimmin' In A Dream

Workin' in the sun, a-scrapin' down the tar
If we made a run fer it, we wouldn't get far
Shovel on a stone, diggin' deeper down
Every day a good day that you above ground

Chorus:
Hear that crow a-laughin' at me
Rain comin' down on the hangman tree
Swing that shovel, and push that dirt
Brady got it in the back, you know it gotta hurt

One day last week, when the boss man slept
Stopped shovelin' for a while and we all made a bet
Who could run an' catch a frog, or grab a dandelion
Billy got caught, he in the hothouse fryin'

Chorus:
Hear that crow a-laughin' at me
Rain comin' down on the hangman tree
Some people gone missin', some people have died
You never know when God'll kick you offa this ride

Been cuttin' me a notch on the bunkhouse floor
One for every year, and now I'm countin' fourty-four
Swing that shovel, and push that dirt
Brady got it in the back, you know it gotta hurt

Workin' in the sun, scrapin' down the tar
If we made a run fer it, we wouldn't get far
We toil and strain, we kick and scream
We may be just a drop of rain a-swimmin' in a dream

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 2004 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2003

performers

Stanard Ridgway: banjo, vocals
Hayden Burke: bass
Pietra Wexstun: tape loops
Bruce Zelesnik: shovels and rakes
Jeff Stooger: bamboo flute

Movin' kinda slow, no I never had much balance
Why does everyone I know keep makin' lots a' dough
I guess I'll find out soon when I get to that crystal palace in the sky

I've heard stories second hand about its grand interior
Its gold and silver strands, cathedral ceilings way up high
All the furnishing's unique when you get to your crystal palace in the sky

Well, I've worked as a part time circus boy
Collected cans down Saticoy
And patiently put forth my master plan

I've imagined futures and full plates
And slept with every subliminal tape
But now I'm so angry at someone
My contract is in breach
Why must my crystal palace be on hold this week?

I feel lucky I suppose, at least we're all still breathin'
Stuck here in escrow, just a' waitin' out our loan
But no big armed patrol will stop me when I get to my crystal palace by and by

And it'll be my way or the highway
Gettin' to my crystal palace in the sky

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1996 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway

performers

Ted "Sticks" Andersen: drums, percussion
Harlan Boddicker: bass guitar
Bob Elmo: bass guitar, cello, violin
Larry Grennan: percussion, background vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, acoustic & electric guitar, harmonica, theater organ, recorder
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, background vocals

Commissioned for the short film Death Smokes A Big Cigar

Swimmin' in the slime
Peelin' off th' dock
Baby got a purple skirt that is polka-dot
Beauty in decay can be the only way when you are not

Wind is blowin' strong
Rainin' in the world
Nothin' but a sag where there used to be a curl
Cloud is comin' on
The weatherman was wrong––it's hot

Kill the referee
I'm callin' off the match
Gimme somethin' real––Babyface will need a peel tonight

Chorus:
Where they go
We don't know
But deep inside we're blue
Catch that fish
Your only wish
Deep inside we're blue
Blow that horn
From you I'm torn
No one has a clue
So pass that glass
Did you have to ask
Deep inside we're blue

Collision traffic mess
Failure or success
Who you lookin' at and tryin' to impress
Join you in your pain
Are you lookin' for the same tonight

Place me in your web
I will obey your plan
Gimme somethin' real––Babyface will need a peel tonight

Chorus repeat

notes

I don't know when this song was actually recorded; 1997 is, well, a shot in the dark.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1997 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)

performers

Joe Berardi: drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, harmonica
Mark Shulz: lead guitar, vocals
David Sutton: electric and acoustic bass, vocals
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals

One dog buries a bone and then the
Other dog digs it up and finds
A prize in store
One dog dies and the other dogs go
Dig him up a tomb, with his
Name inscribed

Chorus:
And there, on his tombstone
Carved so bold
The words are clear and strong
It says:
This one is for the eyes
For the eyes of the other dogs to come
It's for the eyes of the other dogs to come

One man digs a hole while the
Other one shovels dirt inside
Another hole
One man says "hello" while
Another man is leaving on a
Long journey––to a place he'll not return

Chorus repeat

Every entrance has an exit
Every doorknob has a twist
I wonder what my face looked like
Before it looked like this?

Chorus repeat

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1989 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Joe Chiccarelli and Stanard Ridgway

performers

Tori Amos: backing vocals
Joseph Berardi: drums and ratchet
Steve Berlin: saxophones
Larry Grennan: backing vocals
Joe Ramirez: backing vocals
Steve Reid: percussion, conch shell
Marc Ribot: electric guitar
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, piano, ectoplasm
Bernard Sauser-Hall: keyboards, time tunnel piano
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, backing vocals
Eric Williams: electric guitar

Commisioned for the film Rumblefish.

You walk, I'll run
And follow right behind you
You call, I'll come
And I won't remember where I come from
Over there, at the end of the bar
This fish keeps swimmin' in a jar
I feel a tug on the line
Which end will I be on this time?

Chorus:
Don't box me in
Don't box me in
Don't box me in
Don't box me in

One day I'll show them
Just what I'm made of
There'll be a time
When I won't remember what I was afraid of
And I'll be swimmin' in the sea
No banging on this glass for me
My eyes turned red when my life turned blue
So I'm leaving everything, that's true
And I'll jump into
A brand new skin

Chorus:
And then you won't be able to box me in
Don't box me in
Don't box me in
Let go

There's a few places 'round
That I've never been
There's an ocean out there
That I gotta swim
There's a river that flows
Right past my door
I wonder
I wonder...
...what?

And if sometimes I can't seem to talk
You'll know this blackboard lacks a piece of chalk.

Chorus:
Don't box me in
I told you not to––don't box me in
Don't box me in
Don't box me in
Let go

credits

Written by: Stewart Copeland / Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Regatta Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stewart Copeland

performers

Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards
Stewart Copeland: all other instruments

Commisioned for the film Pecker.

There's a guard in the tower
We got just one hour
When we meet in the shower
You'll feel my love power

Chorus:
Don't drop the soap for anyone else but me x3

You be the momma, I'll be the pop
You be the bottom, I'll be the top

Chorus:
Don't drop the soap for anyone else but me x2

You say you're a fighter
But you won't make a sound
You'll be my pillow biter
When the sun goes down

Chorus:
Don't drop the soap for anyone else but me x3

Chorus:
Don't drop the soap for anyone else but me repeat and fade

credits

Performed by: Stanard Ridgway and Stewart Copeland with Judd Miller and Michael Thompson
Music by: Stewart Copeland
Words by: John Waters
Published by: © Copyright 1998 Palmyra Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stewart Copeland and Jeff Seitz

He took a drive down the coast highway
Blowin' where the air was fresh and clean
He had a plan that said I'll do it my way
Rollin' from the desert to the sea

Hit twenty-one years old up in prison
Just a little night job with a stolen key
Two years liftin' weights and pumpin' iron there in his cell
He came out lookin' just like Mohammed Ali

He drove around tailgating trucks and busses
Whistling some new Michael Jackson tune
He thought back on his momma and what she told him long ago
Do it right son, please, don't do it wrong

He's goin' home
Gonna buy some stuff down at the pier
He's all alone
He's got a radio, a gun, and some japanese beer
And on the highway he saw the big cars in line
And he thought, behind every fortune... there's got to be a crime⁵

He took a drive down the coast highway
Blowin' where the air was fresh and clean
He had a plan that said I'll do it my way
But he could not plan for what he couldn't see

He's goin' home
All alone
And he stopped at a couple of markets and drug stores along the way
He'd just walk up and down the aisle and smile––funny that way

The last place he drove into had to be my place
They said he'd run out of gas anyway
And as he walked up to the counter with a blue steel gun in his hand
I took out my long rifle and I blew him away
I blew him away

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1996 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway

performers

Ted "Sticks" Andersen: drums, percussion
Harlan Boddicker: bass guitar
Bob Elmo: bass guitar, cello, violin
Larry Grennan: percussion, background vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, acoustic & electric guitar, harmonica, theater organ, recorder
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, background vocals

Sittin' right behind me
I could smell her perfume
It was somethin' I'd smelled before
Went through a red light
While I spilled my drink
I could feel somethin' sticky on the floor

I said "Miss, you've gotta tell me
Where you wanna go to
I can't keep drivin' round the same block"
So I crumpled my cup
And pulled the gum off my shoe
And then she told me "Just shut up
And keep your eyes on the road"

Chorus:
"And just drive," she said
"Just drive," she said
"Just drive," she said

Well, I watched her put her hands
On the bag in her lap
While I scratched the bald spot on my head
I knew then that my cab was just
A getaway car
But I shut up and drove, like she said

I took a bite of my doughnut
And I offered her one
And I said "Lady, are you in a fix?"
Then she reached in her purse
And she pulled out a gun, and said
"Now just shut up, and keep your hands on the wheel"

Chorus repeat (Okay, okay!)

spoken
Then the moon disappeared, and it started to rain,
So I put the wipers on full.
And on the bag in her lap I saw the name of a big bank downtown.
And I said, "You don't have to worry about me, nope!"
When I turned the headlights on––just for a minute––
I thought I saw the both of us on some kinda tropical island someplace.
Walkin' down a white sandy beach.
Eatin' somethin'...

Chorus repeat

We pulled outta traffic
Down a dark side street
She was fixin' her hair in the mirror
I made a left turn
At a yellow light
Drove my cab fast towards the pier

She boarded the boat
And turned and blew me a kiss
And later on, when the squad car came 'round
I ate a handful of peanuts
And I told 'em this
"I don't rememeber much, except 'Just keep your hands on the wheel'"

Chorus repeat until fade

spoken:
Hey, hey, uh––
Hey, y'all, get outta my way!––all ya sunday drivers!
Hey, you want one of these, ah, Slim Jims? They're good!
What?––what? You don't––you don't want one?
Well they're 100% meat!

Haven't I seen you somewhere before?
I know, I know, Anchorage, that's where I seen ya, Anchorage.
Well, where you goin'?
I'm sorry, I don't go in that part of town anymore.
I don't need my windows washed.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1986 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Hugh Jones

performers

K. K. Barett: drums
Tom Rechoin: percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards
Bill Noland: keyboards

The end of the daydream
The end of the side
The end of relations
The end of my mind
The end of the shoreline
The end of the heat
The end of the cold
The end of an era

My conscience calls me to the phone
Speaking voice telling me it's time to go
I think of the past, and the present, and the future
I start to say

The end of the almost
The end of the sigh
It's the end of the highway
It's the end of the lie
The end of the girl
The end of the world
The end of the romance
It's the end of an era

My conscience calls me to the phone
Speaking voice telling me it's time to go
I think of the past, and the present, and the future
It's all the same

Speaking voice telling me it's time to go
I think of the past, and the present, and the future
spoken in bad Italian accent:
I sink of ze past, and ze present, and ze future
And it's all de same
It's all de same

notes

The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.

credits

Written by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1980 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Jim Hill, Paul McKenna, and Wall Of Voodoo

performers

Chas Gray: synthesizer
Bruce Moreland: bass, piano
Marc Moreland: guitar
Joe Nanini: percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, organ

Commissioned for the French film Terminus.

You are my only confidant
And my only friend
Together we will share everything
Until the very end

Chorus:
There's no one here who shares my views
Or sees the way I can see
But there's just one thing that you'll understand
You'll have to even up with me
At the end of the line (x2)

I've bet it all before
But not everything I own
There are some things that you can't buy or steal
Or learn to leave alone

Chorus repeat last line x4

I toss the dice and skin the cat
And I always pay the fine
So we'll settle up even-steven
When we reach the end of the line

Hey, I hear you calling me back home
To fly or fall to the news of it all
There's no dark destiny
Fate will receive what our love will believe
'Til we reach the end of the line

Chorus repeat last line x10

notes

The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larr