Ain't no love in the heart of the city

Its all  twisted

Everyday I have the blues

Behind the groove

Its alright now

Happy holidays to you

Better than nothng

Curious

Old cadillacs never die

The finance company just fade them away

The Undershepherd

On a clear day

I got your checkers right here

I need about tree fiddy

Uncommon ground

Half crazy

Politics in America have been so fucking crazy for so fucking long that it starts to feel like progress when they resort to just plain old regular vanilla corruption. At least we know this game.

It just goes to show you that sometimes crazy mofos ain't always quite as crazy as they want you to believe they are.  Yielding the right of way to a speeding locomotive that ain't got no brakes is decidedly within the province of the sane and sentient. There is a well know distinction between being crazy and acting crazy.  If you are only acting crazy you step aside just in the nick of time.  But still, you don't want the opposition peeping your game so you better throw yourself back on the tracks after the train has safely passed.

So this post is dedicated to all the politicians who chose to dial it back rather than stand on the tracks when this train came through.

Do what I gotta do

Sinful fuckers

Well I reckon yeah that oughta get it

Butterfly

Behind the green door

Its my time

And ain't nobody got time for that

You think our lives are cheap

I get out

Who made up these rules I say

My favorite things

Two for one

Trust

Sideways

The sweetest berry

I didn't choose jazz, jazz chose me

I guess it would have been nice to have a proper instructor to tell me what to listen to and what it all meant. But that's not the lot I drew.

In every child's life there comes a great emptiness, that point in your life when you realize that Santa Claus and everything else you ever believed in is just so much bullshit. But you have built your entire life around it and its not so easy to let go.  Its the same with music.  That which you thought was great turns out to be the mumblings of morons.

I really heard that sound for the first time in the early 80's but I didn't know what it was or where it was going.  I didn't even know how to find it again.  But it knew me and it knew where I was going.  I didn't know what I was looking for but there was definitely something there. I spent the next 10 years trying to figure it out. There were faint clues but not much else to go on. Mind you this was in the days before reliable streaming so finding real jazz was still pretty much a crap shoot. This same journey might only take a couple months today what with Pandora and all the other resources available now.

So you start searching, and what you think you are looking for is just as fake as what you already have so you have to begin anew. And so you fall into a despair that leaves you open to the offers of the universe and it turns out you simply follow that sound wherever it leads. No structure, no pattern, no instructors, just that sound. Like being an infant again, and as an infant, you have no way to communicate your needs, you just know you have had it before and you want it again and you cry out until you get it.  Nothing tells you what is right or wrong, you simply know what's right.  And when you get to that place on your journey where your ears tell you it's right and you find the architects of the music there waiting for you, then you know you are home.

I didn't have the benefit of a paint by the numbers kit, I just had the faint sound to follow.  Consequently, traditionalists become exasperated with my style because I won't stay within the lines.  What lines?  I hear jazz in places I'm not supposed to hear it.  And much of what passes for jazz is just a never ending mathematical equation with all the joy of an 8th grade algebra class. So I follow what I hear.

Sure, there were Thelonius Monk albums left in the wrong section of the record store that lead me to the party but at that time it was more about the funny looking dude with a scraggly beard and the funky hats. Besides, he didn't play the right notes and it sounded funny. But there was always something about it that would not allow you to let go.  Then again, the path leads you right back to Monk's music.

But once I found the architects, more Diz than Byrd, I didn't, and I still don't feel like I need any instruction.  I know it as well as anyone.  If what I am hearing is not to your liking then maybe its you that needs to change.   I let my ears guide me to the place I should be.  And usually, without fail, my ears lead me to the real music.

Throughout the course of this journey, I have found one simple unwavering truth that guides everything; I am the foremost authority in the world on what I like to hear.

You don't tell me

Chain of fools

The land that time forgot

Cloudy

Isn't it a shame

Tell me how is it

Love brought me back

Gimme my money

Always bet on black

The obstructionist whisperer

There was a time

I may not do the dance
as well as you
But, baby you can bet your bottom dollar
You'll never hear me holler
I'll do the best that I can do

And the beat goes on

How is it that partisans are allowed to go on the Sunday morning spews shows and peddle one sided bullshit that is demonstrably untrue.

Listen Chuck, you are going to have to add more to the mix than a spiffy new set design if you want to own Sunday morning.  If we just want a run down of the Republican and Democratic talking points we can just go to their respective websites.

Either you challenge their lies or you stop booking them.  The public should be more informed, not more confused, after watching your program.

And another thing, stop with the hack guests who have accomplished nothing more than forming an opinion.  Maybe that gets you invited to the right dinner parties but it makes you look like putz on your own show.  Hell, if that's the case you should book me and get a standing invite to hotdog night.

For once in my life

If you really loved me

Won't you tell me

Midnight rider

Straight no chaser

Its too late to turn back now

Its alright

Now you gonna respect the law

Everybody plays the fool

Hood rule #1a, don't go out like a chump.

The Democrats went out like chumps.

You may go down but go down swinging.


Nobody is going to say this out loud so let me break it down for you.

What you witnessed on election day was the complete and total niggerization of the President, and by extension the Democratic party.  And them suckas walked right into it.

From day one, even before the President took office, the Republican party declared their intention to niggerize the presidency.  All they had to say was "Them niggers is coming for your jobs and your daughters and if you know what's good for you, you will line up and vote for us no matter how detrimental we are to your own individual interests".   It was southern strategy 2.0.  And by and large it worked.

We hate Obamacare and the people who brought it to us, but we sure do love all those things that flow directly from Obamacare, just make sure you call it something else so we feel okay about taking advantage of it.We don't want nothing from niggers or nigger lovers even if its good for us.

Much of what passes for political discourse is offensive and racist and they know exactly what they are doing.  Anybody who challenges them on their race based strategy is attacked as a race baiter (the irony). The Democrats were so afraid to have an honest discussion about race that they became co-conspirators in this little charade.  Well that conversation needs to happen now so everybody get your lies straight.

There probably was not much that could have been done to change the situation on the ground once they successfully niggerized the entire Democratic party.  Remember this occurred over a period of years, not just the most recent election cycle.  If you don't challenge this on day one you lose. But nobody wanted to touch it.  It might have been nice to have a diversity of defenses to see if the strategy could be outmaneuvered, you know, for scientific purposes and all.

The only candidate that came close to anything resembling a defense was Mary Landrieu in Louisiana declaring that maybe, just possibly, perhaps, conceivably, somehow, if you think about it really really hard, if it pleases the court, it might be possible for race to have something to do with something.

I guess we will find out in December if that was enough to get her through re-election.

Regardless of the outcome of the election let's just say we are not amused.  And this time we are blaming both sides because both sides are guilty.  One for tying the knot and the other for pulling the lever.

The question is what now?

Now that they are holding the bucket will they stop poisoning the well

I am changing

The creator makes but one demand

Backstairs

Flowers

Bless you brother

Bunch of ignorant fuckers

She blinded me with science

Morning

Love train

Stay together

Munchies for your love

Vertigo

Its you or no one

I waited for you

Say you won't

Tis autumn

time

I'll remember April

Hell, why don't we put a travel ban on Texas

and then give them all them all that border security they been talkin bout

Cause Ornithology's my tune

Mr Kenyatta

Look over your shoulder

Things ain't what they used to be

The hustle never dies

You may recall that last month we awarded the jacked UP jazz hustle of the day award to an enterprising fellow that, let's just say, improvised his way into a career.

Well apparently this is a thing. And it seems that the fellow I encountered was only heir to the original hustle.  And there seems to be more than one Bushman.  However, I'm sad to report that the originator died back in February.

The award still stands, but I guess we have to issue it posthumously and perhaps as a group award. 

And while we're here, I guess we need to set the record straight. This under resourced fellow was the originator and the fully resourced guy with the skeleton costume was the copy cat.

RIP

Up above my head

Jamph

Playas gonna play

Haters gonna hate

Ballers they gonna ball

And shot callers they gonna call

Das hi de do shawty

If I coulda, woulda, shoulda

Like a natural man

Evidence

They all laughed

Check this out

Awww yeah

You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille

Welcome to the colored section

Can I get a hello

You damn right

A redneck in a soul band

going to soul heaven

As good as it gets???

It appears that somebody has a giant hardon for the NFL.

I guess they are just gonna have to bend over and take it.

Looks like no don't really mean no after all, huh?

Are we sure the memo didn't say NRA, you know those initials look kind of similar to NFL. Maybe if we put this kind of effort into sensible gun laws we would have a few less non domestic violence victims too.

As previously stated, I am no fan of the NFL, they probably deserve everything coming at them and then some. But mob justice still looks pretty much the same regardless of whether the participants are wearing white hoods and bed sheets or power skirts and Vince Camuto shoes.

Domestic violence claims and child support are two toes on the same claw and, when teamed up with Family Court, have done more to destroy families than hookers and blow coupled with an open bar tab.

No you don't get to beat women. At the same time, you don't get to beat men either. This whole thing is nothing more than mass hysteria and the criminalization of manhood/fatherhood.

This train ain't going nowhere good and everyone on it will deserve the same thing the NFL is getting. You see problem is things are never quite as simple as your 60 seconds of network air time dictate it to be. So if you are not actually going to try and fix the problem, may I respectfully request that each and every one of you STFU.

Joe Sample RIP

Joe Sample was a musician that was comfortable in different settings.

He had a pretty good run with the Jazz Crusaders and he was rightly called a jazz musician. But I knew his music better from the non jazz side.

The best memory I have of Joe Sample was when he came to town to play a gig. Later that night he dropped by the local jazz watering hole to sit in for a few. Of course this was the one night I chose not to show up and had to listen for months to everyone talk about the night Joe Sample showed up.

Sometimes my friend, sometimes...

RIP

giddy up giddy up

Gerald Wilson, musician, composer, bandleader, educator, husband, father and icon

It is with the greatest respect and utmost admiration that we acknowledge the passing of another pillar of jazz Mr. Gerald Wilson at the age of 96. He did us the favor of living a long and fruitful life thereby eliminating the need for us to speculate about what could have been. He showed us what could be done with a great talent, a little determination and the benefit of a long lifetime dedicated to the art of jazz.

I don't know if he ever set foot in a class room, but I do know that he was an extraordinary teacher. Even the most accomplished musicians need to be shown how to channel your artistic gifts into the proper format from time to time. If you understand it well enough you can make even the tin ears like me hear it.

You had to be careful when listening to his music. His orchestrations tapped into something that few musicians can consistently find. His music was just so right that it would force you to your feet and make you exclaim with joy because all the notes were exactly where they were supposed to be. Its as if he were inside your head and new what you wanted to hear before you even knew what you were listening to.

I came to Mr. Wilson late, the last 10 years or so, but Gerald Wilson owned a legacy that emanated from the very beginnings of jazz and, as far as I know, lasted up until his death. Mr. Wilson recreated and updated some of his previous master works and found a whole new audience including me.

You probably already have his music in your collection and didn't know it but do yourself a favor and get a copy of his "New York New Sound" and enjoy a real musical romp.

I wish I were better able to compose my thoughts but maybe Gerald Wilson can best say it himself.

RIP

Happy talk

Part of the problem or part of the solution

I knew the NFL was a lost cause 10 years ago when women successfully lobbied for equal access to the men's locker room on the pretext that women reporters weren't able to get the same stories as men reporters. The men's locker room!

Now I have never been much of a fan of professional or amateur football but I do get it. The main attraction for many has been the joy of being in a room full of beer and snacks with your compatriots watching 300 pound men knock hell out of each other for fun and profit. This was simply an acceptable way to release your aggression so that when you went back to work on Monday you wouldn't choke the living shit out of that idiot supervisor of yours. You know, that whole opiate of the masses thing. I am still trying to understand why anybody gives a shit about football much less why women give a shit but here we are.

The sole redeeming quality of the NFL was that it provided a few sacred hours where men could bond with each other and, I can't stress this point enough, participate in a wholesome activity where they could get the hell away from the women folk. That's not anti women that's just the way it is. We are different creatures. Men are from Mars women are from Venus and we are supposed to do different shit. No girls allowed and your woman can't accuse you of being unfaithful. That was the deal.

Then those greedy somebitches at the NFL decided that women were an untapped market. The next thing you know everybody is taking sensitivity training and getting in touch with their feelings. I mean the whole point of the NFL is violence. As soon as little boys are old enough to put on a jock strap they are trained to aspire to this supreme level of violence. And surprise, surprise, surprise, turns out that football players can be violent.

I really don't think the value to our society of professional football players smashing into one another is worth paying them a gazillion dollars a year and I certainly don't think that the grand wizard of the NFL, who never has to get the hell knocked out of him, is worth 40 gazillion dollars a year. But they bout to take this bitch out on a humble. And I'm wondering if I should be sad or grateful.

Personally, I think women should be equal to men in every way possible. And I think we all should be held to the same standard.

Alls I know is that if any man in America had gotten liquored up and tried to attack Ray Rice in that elevator and gotten knocked the fuck out nobody would have thought twice about it. I'm just saying there is a difference between domestic violence and combat. And the whole Ray Rice episode looks like combat to me. But that doesn't seem to matter to folks who choose not to deal with facts.

I'm not saying that the elevator event was Ray Rice's finest hour or that perhaps he shouldn't have handled it differently or even that he shouldn't have to suffer the consequences of his actions. I am saying that losing a fight is not the same as domestic violence. And all you talking heads trying to build your careers on this one incident are doing way more damage than Ray Rice ever could. And now they got all these so called thought leaders co-signing this bullshit out of fear of being labeled pro domestic violence. Et tu Brute?

Well Jack what's your point. My point is this whole conversation is stupid and meaningless and I am truly tired of listening to it. Talk about the weather, talk about ebola, talk about why America needs to have a war or two every generation, talk about some real domestic violence victims, but get this stupid discussion out of my media feed.

Space

The worthy hustle continues

Upon having the opportunity to visit a tourist locale recently, I took time to partake of the the local culture.

Now some cities are just making the best of what they got, and rely heavily upon the hype to put butts in the seats. And then other cities have a pretty comprehensive arsenal of entertainment choices. So when you are confident of your offerings you feel less inclined to prevent the urban leisure technicians from plying their wares. This particular city had a somewhat lax policy towards innovative self employment strategies.

Now we had just departed from the main tourist drag where you see pretty much everything including one enterprising individual dressed as an inanimate skeleton statue. When the tourist ventured too close he would lunge at them with a hearty "Boo" and point to his tip box as the crowds screamed with delight upon learning that a skeleton wanted nothing more than a tip rather than their soul. OK fair enough.

Further down the line the strip transitions into more of a town vibe with shops and bars and what not but still very touristy. Now here's where the hustle continues. Sitting next to a standard issue street trash can was a full blown urban leisure technician in full regalia complete with missing teeth and shoes with more hole than shoe. Now he was just sitting there holding a freshly cut and very leafy tree branch in front of him that obscured his presence from semi-drunk holiday mode tourists. Now when in a strange place with lots of people I pretty much I pretty much stay in threat detection mode so I spotted him right away. But most people didn't. And so the group of women right in front of us received the benefit of his offerings. I saw the whole thing. Out he jumped with his bush in hand with a hearty "Boo".

There was screaming and laughing and a quick little ruckus before home boy went immediately back into position for his next victim. A good time was had by all.

I got half a block down the street and said to myself "naw, I'm not letting that pass". That is a worthy hustle. I turned around and went back to hand homeboy a dollar and he directed me to his improvised tip jar, a restaurant take out box. Of course it is!

This renewed my faith in America.

Homeboy could have stood there pestering passersby for unearned financial favor and in this environment probably made a fairly decent living. But no! This brotha decided to join the capitalist system and earn his keep despite his lack of proper shoes, much less any type costume. And to be truthful about it, his contribution to his tourist based economy was just as valuable as most of the rest of the overpriced crap in town.

I don't know his name but homeboy is the recipient of the official jackedUPjazz hustle of the day award.

What is there to say

What is there to do

Highway one

Power and glory

You ain't got no problems Jules

Take it from me

Some day we'll all be free

Bird alone

with no mate
turning corners tempting fate
flying circles in the air
are you on your way somewhere

You too near me not to hear me

The harder de come

I have been watching the activity in Missouri from the beginning. Over the course of the past couple weeks I have developed some concerns about the so called "Ferguson movement". And while quite a lot is being said, some things that need to be said remain unspoken.

First, it should be said that the facts are not clearly understood. And the few facts that are in the public domain seem to be in, shall we say, a state of flux. So due diligence is incomplete.

But it is clear that no one has the right to summarily execute anyone in these United States. There must be accountability regardless of which side of the divide you find yourself on. It would appear that justice for the law enforcement officer is now on a course that cannot be easily subverted. I also expect to see the people in that community begin to seize the reins of power in their municipality so that they may control their own destiny.

What I am not seeing, however, are the loud voices calling for accountability from those who are most likely to find themselves holding the shitty end of the stick.

The frequently used refrain "hands up, don't shoot" on it's face is completely accurate, but I am deeply troubled by the message it may send. To me the message implies that its okay to go about your extra legal lifestyle until confronted by the authorities. And as long as you promptly surrender you may now rely on others being compelled to adhere to the very laws that you yourself have failed to respect. Well if you are not adding to your community then you are subtracting from your community. Anything that connotes an acceptance of breaking the social contract that provides for a civilized society should be openly denounced as unacceptable.

Many of us are confronted on a day to day basis with the need to "do what you gotta do" to survive. We get that! What we don't get is the need to liberate flat screens and weaves from the oppressor during the revolution. Something ain't right and it needs to get put on blast so we can figure out who is who.

It is partially because of community members who "got to live that thug life" that we all need to narrate our every move whenever getting pulled over by the cops in order to avoid becoming the beneficiary of law enforcement lethal force, "I am reaching into my pocket for my license".

Why can't we develop a preconceived notion in the psyche of every cop in America that pulling over a black person will be met with the same experience as pulling over a white person. I suspect that the people of Ferguson have a deep understanding of the issues in Gaza and the West Bank. A minority of the residents create a majority of the chaos. But to the ones with the power everyone is the same and completely deserving of indiscriminate group punishment.

Someone with the proper amount of pigmental qualifications is going to have to say it out loud. There is a certain way that each of us is expected to conduct ourselves, regardless of your class, race or economic situation. And failure to adhere to these standards puts you squarely in the category of being part of the problem, not the solution.

Joy comes in the morning

Talkin bout don't worry

and the band played on

Winter in America

Yeah, they been looking for the rain

Make me wanna holler

the way they do my life

Everybody thinks that we're wrong

but who are they to judge us

Rosa Parks

My handy man

Somebody's watching you

RESPECT

You can't tell the difference after dark

Rosewood

Seconds of pleasure

Life's little treasures

If you can keep your head

when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you

You just don't understand the fucking problem

If its all the same to you

Playing your game

I'm willing to play

whatever you say

if love is the end

On and on

Sticking like glue to my love in you

Who let the dogs out

Down here in hell with you

I think of saving myself

but with nothing to complain about in heaven

what would I do

I ain't letting her go

she's all I got

634-5789

And we're back

Woke up with this clanging around my skull

Once you get started...

When the music stops

Slowly I turned

Person to Person

Work to do

Maybe tomorrow

No one else can make me cry...

No, the answer's no

No now, no tomorrow, no next week, no next month, no next year.

Memphis soul stew

Vlad the impaler

Please don't let me be misunderstood

Every ghetto every city

Pick up the pieces

Here's another day, will I get through it

Daydreaming

But you can bet your lifetimes that and twice its double...

So make sure when you say you're in it but not of it
you're not helping to make this earth the place sometimes called hell

Tell me have you ever tried forgiving when somebody's done you wrong

Well the price of love runs high

or perish together as fools

Send your's in right away

To live together as brothers and sisters

will she leave a message

and you don't answer

If God calls

There is room at the cross

And the Harper Valley PTA

For the coloreds

For whites only

I walk the line

Where is your faith

Light skinned beauty

Teddy

Troglodytes

Theo Crocker afro physicist

Open the door

Backtrack

Retrograde

Don't you be no fool baby

Gotta have it

Think it over

RIP

Silver's Serenade

Senor Blues

Peace

Blowin the Blues Away

Nutville

Baghdad blues

I was saddened to learn of the passing of Horace Silver on Wednesday.

What can I say. If you didn't know of Horace Silver you probably won't get it anyway. One by one, the last of the jazz giants leave us and Horace Silver was about as big as they came.

Infectious, bluesy, groovish, funky, soulful bop. He was my first clue that it was alright for jazz to be jacked up. He blazed his own trail musically and even a tin ear like me could instantly recognize one of his tunes. Sifting through his discography you will find a gold mine full of treasures. My personal favorite, Pistol Packin Papa is not to be found on YouTube, but do yourself a favor and go track down a copy of "Soulmates" and "Red Beans and Rice" or "A Ballad for Hawk" from the Rockin with Rachmaninoff release.

Update: Please forgive but I stand corrected "Red Beans and Rice" for your enjoyment

There really hasn't been much in the way of output from Horace Silver in the last 20 years so those who are not inclined to dig down deep may have missed him. But his music was quite accessible for those that chose to look. His discography over the past 50 years is a testament to his genius.

Those who knew the man personally speak very highly of him as a wonderful human being. Many of us are just grateful to have known him through his music and recognize him as not only a unique artist but a true master of this thing we call jazz.

RIP

John Coltrane

It hurts so bad

Ev'ry time we say good

Party down

Gonna be some changes made

Smooth sailing

The creator has a master plan

Gotta keep that vibe alive

People try to make you Do the thangs you know ain't cool


Well well well

I just can't rely on you

Prince of peace

Wild and peaceful

Loran's dance

Greetings to Idris

Because it can

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul

Somewhere there's music

Tune up

Cannonball junction

Its hard out here for a pimp

I try to tell these young cats

Some kind of hero

Walk on by

All dressed up with no where to go

Django unchained

The train and the river

When Sunny gets blue

Not one more

What we need are more people willing to say kiss my ass, and get off of yours.

I just hope he has enough anger to see us through. I'm guessing he has more than enough.

Count me in.

I feel like going on

...but I get up again

So what

There is no greater love

California soul

Equinox

Lone Warrior

Do your worst

Moanin

Black heroes

Shine

It's getting kind of hectic

You should have stayed here

Laura's song

You better go back the way you came

Free free set them free

Certainly not me

Who gave you permission to rearrange me

Turn my back and then you slip me a mickey

The world is mine when I wake up

I don't need nobody telling me the time

Everyday is mother's day

And that's Uncle Joe

Doo Doo Brown

One more river to cross

Rainbow people

My favorite things

Body talk

Push

Let's bring him back

Look at this view

These eyes

You got to believe in something

Make room for me

Patiently waiting

Black Jesus returns (again)

In prime time no less. This oughta be deep.

Just a player

With the groove our only guide

So wide you can't get around it
So low you can't get under it
So high you can't get over it

Here's our chance to dance
our way out of our constriction

Feets don't fail me now

Not just deep...

Pseudo Racist Bullshit

Continues

Too young to go steady

Can't next to you

Newsy Neighbors

Lord, instead of getting a Cadi they say get a Ford

I want my people to be free

Who have incarcerated themselves in a prison of ignorance and greed

With all my heart

Feel that you're feeling

You've changed

Ways of light

Spanish joint

I got dreams

Ain't that loving you

Pennies from heaven

For you and for me

The door of no return

Higher Ground

Cause it won't be too long

Control

What have you done for me lately

Who's right?

Who's wrong?

Who do you love

Really, nobody thought to ask if your products were killing people until the check cleared.

They don't care about us

They don't work for us

How can you tell when a politician's lips are moving

Don't play that song

Let's get serious

Miles ahead

Time will tell

No not the democrats...

Oh snap

Did he just call them punk ass bitches

or was it bitch ass punks

Wilson, I'm sorry

This time its real

Soul Lifted

Ring the bell, school is in

Chasing rainbows

Out of the night

Where or when

Why not

Not again

Happiness is just around the bend

There's something going on inside of my head

Flying home

One by one

Heaven

She doesn't have no money
But always got a way to pay

Its time to sell some ghetto heaven

)

The world is a ghetto

Wonder when I'll find paradise
Somewhere there's a home sweet and nice
Wonder if I'll find happiness
Better give it up now I guess

Don't you know that its true
That for me and for you...

)

In a nation of CEO's

Who is gonna clean the toilets

They're writing songs of love
But not for me

A lucky star's above
But not for me

)

Love Love Love

Show you the way to go

Liberian girl

You do

That thing

Respect is just a minimum

Movement of Jah people

Exodus

And I panicked

And I'll draw all men unto me

Lift Him Up

Happy

Clap along if you feel that happiness is the truth

Bring ass to get ass

This is what happens when you loud talk Little Seymour

They can't take that away from me

What it is

Well played sir

Go Charlie

Brothers gonna work it out

Good luck charm

They call it stormy Monday

but Tuesday's just as bad

Blue Charlie Brown

Blues in the closet

Exactly like you

All or nothing at all

Lush life

Little Bluebird

Seven of nine

Let the beat hit 'em

Speaking of mules

Where's mine?

Georgia

will be closed for this ice storm.

Confirming that indeed there is no education in the second kick of a mule!

I won't back down

Scorpion

You got to go through it to get to it

But it ain't no fun to me

It's alright

Dancing and singing is all I really ever wanted to do

People call me so much dirty names

Time is on my side

Don't let go

Without God

On a clear day

you can see forever more

Gimme your love

At your best

Stand

There's a midget standing tall

and a giant beside him about to fall

Stand, they will try to make you crawl

And they know what you're sayin' makes sense at all

Whipping post

What you say...

Watch your mouth

Véu da Noite

The whispers gettin louder

To each his own

Experimental movement

We are one

Whenever you're ready

Going in circles

On and on

Saturday morning

The greeting

Guess who I saw today

Nothing left to say

I can't see for looking

Soul with a capital S

Some other time

By the time

I get to Phoenix

We need a resolution

Fall

Lonesome Lover

Boogie Man

Nobody that I know no longer do this shit for fun

Rome wasn't built in a day

Sweet Sticky Thing

Something keeps me hanging on

Little Sunflower

The wrong way

From the city to the woods

Can you dig it