Lonely In America
(Released January 2012)
Musicians:
Dean Batstone – Acoustic and Electric Guitars, Vibes
Earl Slick – Electric Guitars – Earl plays Framus guitars and Orange amps
John Platania – Electric and Gutt String Guitars
Jim Weider – Electric Guitars
Ira Coleman – Upright and Electric Bass – Ira uses David Gage Basses, Fender Basses, D'addario Strings and Ampeg Amps
Gary Burke – Drums
George Quinn – Mandolin
Debbi Adelman – Background Vocals [‘Northern Eyes’ and ‘The Walk Away’]
The Saturday Night Bluegrass Band - Brian Hollander[Dobro], Bill Keith [Banjo], Guy 'Fooch' Fischetti [Fiddle] & Geoff Harden [Bass].
As a songwriter and oft producer of my own recordings, the challenge for me has always been to get the kind of energy out of a studio performance that I seem to be able to muster live. To that end, I once again tried a few new ideas this time around. Concentrating on my own performance first, I tried to capture a raw vocal and acoustic guitar track when I was ‘in the groove’ [read: in the mood, in the zone, not too buzzed, had the money or was in close proximity to a friend’s studio...]. As a result, these songs were cut in five different locations and studios, [The Clubhouse - Rhinebeck, NY, Analog Audio Farm - Brockville, ON, 3 Bays Studios - Red Hook, NY, Signal Path Studios - Almonte, ON and The Isokon - Woodstock, NY] between May and October, 2011.
I then brought in the musicians and in some cases performed with them, in others had them play to my pre-recorded basic tracks, always with the intention of keeping that initial performance in the forefront and staying true to what each song seemed to require, rather than to an overall concept of the album’s sound – in other words, ‘song first’. I’m proud of how it turned out – Slick rocking on a couple of edgy tracks, Platania in the perfect melodic zone that made him famous, Weider hauntingly textural with perfect tone, Ira Coleman animated and rhythmic, Gary Burke solid, with his trademark nuances and feel and The Saturday Night Bluegrass Band trading off in a hauntingly natural musicality that can only come from years of ensemble playing. We had a lot of fun recording these songs – I hope you enjoy them – SWB.
Copyright © 2012 words and music by Dean Batstone
I see more towns in one torn year than some do in a lifetime,
As they fade in my rear view mirror, I find something to call mine,
A turn of wood on a corner post
A church steeple in the sun
A sidewalk smile I won’t soon forget
I’m not jaded yet.
I’ve hurt enough to sing the Blues for something, or for someone
Blue ain’t in me, at least not yet, so I sing this song
When losing love I simply find
Peace in my own peace of mind
Joy in living with no regrets
I’m not jaded yet.
If jaded’s green and blues are sad,
If yellow’s scared and black is bad,
Then I’m a rainbow washed to grey,
That filters clean life’s hardest rain
Through cracks across my face ‘til I’m all wet,
I’m not jaded
I’ve lost more chances at the prize than a thousand world contenders
I’ve been sucker punched, yeah and beat down blind more times than I care to remember
Stepping up or stepping out ain’t a choice I think about
Faith in me is my one sure bet
I’m not jaded yet
I’m not jaded.
Copyright © 2012 words and music by Dean Batstone
She wore fishnet and chewed tobacco and she spit through missing teeth
But her eyes they shine like a midnight sun to her corner of the street
Now a smarter man might’ve moved on past the hickory smoke and beer
But a hungry man with a highway throat kicked the iron down one gear
I took a beer to push the dust down, a tequila for the white line curse
Lost my hunger to another shot, yeah, I was working on my thirst
She moved me with her broken smile and poured one more Patrone
Then motioned to the alleyway where we could be alone
Oh I know the way this ends,
Down a dirty Lone Star road,
Tequila burning in my veins,
and a Shovel under load.
In the shadow of a road sign that still read ‘Texaco’
She pulled me to her shaking breast, then motioned down below
As my hand moved I could feel the wet as it slid on cold, hard steel
She closed my fist on a bloody blade and went running for the streets
Oh I know the way this ends,
Down a dirty Lone Star road,
Tequila burning in my veins,
and a Shovel under load.
Her voice rang like a Siren, murder her refrain
At my feet they saw a dead man, in my hands they saw the blame
Now, a betting man might’ve gambled that the truth would clear his name
But a running man took his fate in hand laying asphalt in his wake
I cut my beard in Winnie, bleached my hair in Galveston
I bought a gun in Waco, they’ve got 10 for everyone
Painted the Hog in Corpus Christi, I had the border in my sites
But turned North ‘til I hit Dallas, I ride mostly now at night
Burned my clothes just East of Austin, the rest I pawned or sold
But I still drinks tequila and this old Shovel’s never cold...
Oh I know the way this ends,
Down a dirty Lone Star road,
Tequila burning in my veins,
and a Shovel under load.
Copyright © 2012 words and music by Dean Batstone
I chased Cailey over bridges from New York to New Orleans
Over rusted, pounding rhythms through my lost, repeating dreams
Like a record stuck on ‘I love you’, my heart skipped the right words
All Cailey ever wanted was the things she never heard
There’s no cold regrets, no long goodbyes
No turn to kiss her one last time
No suffering words or wondering why’s
No Angel’s song when Cailey cries,
I chased Cailey ‘til the rivers ran to oceans blue and green
I tried to wash my sins away but could not come up clean
Tore my feet upon the shoreline trying to catch the best I’d seen
While the best of Cailey ran from everything I could not be
There’s no cold regrets, no long goodbyes
No turn to kiss her one last time
No suffering words or wondering why’s
No Angel’s song when Cailey cries,
I chase Cailey now in shadows, but she’s mostly out of sight
She lost me South of Birmingham into a pale moonlight
She could bend just like a willow but broken she won’t be
She said “you may steal my heart once,
you won’t take my smile from me”
There’s no cold regrets, no long goodbyes
No turn to kiss her one last time
No suffering words or wondering why’s
No Angel’s song when Cailey cries,
Now each night I scream the words that keep my heart so paralyzed
There’s no Angel’s song when Cailey cries.
Copyright © 2012 words and music by Dean Batstone
Dirty Moonshine and a girl named Candy, A stolen night train with a shaky wheel
Depression glass frames a velvet Elvis, Roman candles over Detroit steel
RV theme parks and breasts of plastic, Coronation of the home coming queen
Plywood windows over skateboard sidewalks, a thousand eyes stare through rusted screens
Spinning in the melting pot of mankind, tell me how can anybody be
Lonely in America, Lonely in America, Lonely in America like me.
A hometown victory feeds the graffiti poets, pawn shop TV helps the beat down dream
‘Born To Run’ played with a trombone solo, the high school marching band down Main St.
A Dusty ale house at every crossroads, a gangland street dance where the borders meet
Sunshine’s too strong for L.A. facelifts, potted memories are growing New World weed
Spinning in the melting pot of mankind, tell me how can anybody be
Lonely in America, Lonely in America, Lonely in America like me.
Last year’s promise steels my passion
This years promise helps me bleed
Let me know if I’ve missed someone
I’m damn sure no one’s missing me
A million Harley Davidson’s parked in suburb driveways
Slick Willy kissing all the single girls on Rhinebeck streets
The all night DJ’s blasting white girl Hip Hop
Or ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ to a reggae beat
The Church St. billboard reads “Feed Your Hometown Hungry”
While the preacher’s pockets are bursting at the seams
Sagging porches recall a grander purpose
More than holding up the blistered paint on an American Dream
Spinning in the melting pot of mankind, tell me how can anybody be
Lonely in America, Lonely in America, Lonely in America like me.
Copyright © 2012 words and music by Dean Batstone
I have stolen every road sign
Where wisdom should’ve had the sense to turn
I have broken every cautious heart
An honest day of loving could have earned
I don’t mind the less travelled road
Or learning love was never mine
All that’s left is the letting go
Love don’t happen every time
I have squandered every kindness
That a good heart should’ve found time to return
I have fallen on the unholy side of righteous
Just so I could feel the burn
I don’t mind the longer road
Or learning love can be unkind
All that’s left is the letting go
Love don’t happen every time
I don’t mind the harder road
Or learning love is sometimes blind
All that’s left now is the letting go
Love don’t happen every time.
CCopyright © 2012 words and music by Dean Batstone
The door swings open and in a corner at the back
I see two-step Sally sipping on a Yukon Jack
Beneath one yellow light on a 3 legged stool
A skinny white boy sings skinny white boy blues
I beat my hands like drums against the Nawgahide
Trying to loosen the grip of this frozen night
Through the frost and the grime on the window pane
I watch a black cat cross towards the bowling lanes
One icicle snaps just like a switchblade in the dark
And breaks on the sidewalk where this big Buick’s parked
As if startled by the noise Fat Man pulls on his lights
And drives off through the black of this frozen night
Now, old Keystone Bobby seems he’s lost a few teeth
For putting his eyes where his eyes shouldn’t be
And Silicon Sue, she’s out there walkin’ the streets
She’s got nothing to lose, man, ‘cause those things don’t freeze
The blind man’s dog’s got no monopoly on bites
‘Cause I’m feeling the teeth of this frozen night
As my fingers thaw I can feel my cigarette
Pressed to my lips so they’ll never forget
The song finally ends and there’s a tap on my back
Give me two fresh glasses and a bottle of Yukon Jack
Sally looks a lot warmer ‘neath a 40 watt light
And I’ll settle for a little warmth on this frozen night.
Copyright © 2012 words and music by Dean Batstone
She has somehow salvaged every half-lit smile that I have tried to hide,
Weaved satin words of wisdom from the twisted lines that trail behind my mind,
Worn smooth the jagged edges of the scars that I have carried far too long,
Turned a black coal heart to diamond, then spent it like today’s already gone,
A man can feel quite taken, forlorn, even forsaken,
In the splendor of un-ending Northern eyes,
A man can feel quite tall ‘til he swallowed in the fall,
Of her un-ending Northern eyes
She broke once in Kentucky and took me and half of Nazareth to task,
I might have tried to help her, but I knew better than to ask,
She grabbed her halo from the shoulder and then rose like it was all part of her dance,
Kissed me with lips of bourbon and any sign of caring left to chance,
A man can feel quite strange, unsettled, rearranged,
Trying to question un-ending Northern eyes,
A man can feel quite hard until he’s softened in the dark,
Of her un-ending Northern eyes,
I saw a single tear roll once that she blamed on a bitter, Northern wind,
But the trail of broken memories tore a line across her cheek that would not mend,
This diner ain’t a place to try and face all of the words that we can’t bend,
Or any ghost she could not slay or every man that she could not call friend,
A man can feel quite chained, disturbed, even pained,
In the mercy of un-ending Northern eyes,
A man can feel quite strong ‘til he’s broken ‘neath all that’s wrong,
In her un-ending Northern eyes.
Copyright © 2012 words and music by Dean Batstone
I heard a door slam
But I was swinging from a crystal chandelier
I heard a train cry
Like the haunting sound of good-bye in my ears
Someone turned the song up
‘Til the room was falling down
Losing you was so much easier
With everyone around
But when the silence finally comes, it’s only you that I don’t feel
While I’m spinning in this circle wrapped in my warm coat of steel
I jumped a South bound
Thinking I might catch my bird in flight
I met a young heart
Yeah, but she was just a sleep car in the night
Someone pulled the shades down
Leaving rail sounds in the rain
Forgetting you is even harder
Than remembering her name
But when the silence finally comes, it’s only you that I don’t feel
While I’m spinning in this circle wrapped in my warm coat of steel
...alone here on a platform
In a crowded morning sun
I realize there are no words
To undo the things I’ve done
When the silence finally comes
It’s only you that I don’t feel
When the blame walks in my shadow
My armor’s tarnished and revealed
You’re not here to heal this old wound
I’ve so valiantly concealed
And I’m spinning in my circle wrapped in my warm coat of steel.
Copyright © 2012 words and music by Dean Batstone
She can take a first kiss and make it last all night
She can turn a small spark into a burning light
She can take a candy and roll it on her tongue
She can make her Daddy feel forever young
She takes her time, she takes her time, she takes her time,
She can turn a fast song into a lullaby
She can count the stars out in an evening sky
She can find the layers in every sip of wine
She can find a reason to leave the world behind
She takes her time, she takes her time, she takes her time,
I’m spinning, turning, racing, burning, free...
Time stands still each time she stands by me...
She’ll wait on hours of grey skies to hold one ray of sun
In a room of strangers she touches every one
She’ll find a 4 leaf clover when all the world sees 3
She can find a good thing in a man like me
She takes her time, she takes her time, she takes her time.
Copyright © 2012 words and music by Dean Batstone
Your hands don’t hold me, well, not like they did before
Your smile came easy when your smile came more
Your lips used to speak the words ‘I love you’ as they brushed across my face
Now I’m left with leaving but the life I’m leaving for can’t take your place
My eyes get the broken lines on a highway with no home
My heart gets the stay behind, but I can’t let that show
My ears get the bittersweet of a small town radio
My feet get the walk away, ‘cause that’s what they know.
You built your walls up, but I handed you each stone
But walls without windows, that’s a prison, not a home
You used to be so good at finding reasons to hold on to what we’d found
You can’t even find a few words strong enough to turn my feet around
My eyes get the broken lines on a highway with no home
My heart gets the stay behind, but I can’t let that show
My ears get the bittersweet of a small town radio
My feet get the walk away, yeah, that’s what they know.
My eyes were all ideals
My heart ever the fool
My ears heard just love songs
My feet danced for you
But now my eyes get the broken lines on a highway with no home
My heart gets the stay behind, but I won’t let that show
My ears get the bittersweet of a small town radio
My feet get the walk away,
My feet get the walk away,
My feet get the walk away, ‘cause that’s what they know.