So I think this is my first post of the new year, and what a start it has been. In only two short months I've had a birthday, got back riding bmx and fixed a bunch more after some time off over the Christmas period, got tattooed by the amazing Dan Smith from LA Ink, started boogie boarding again and managed to go through the utter shitfight that was having my work burgled three times in the space of a month. Depsite the burglaries it has been a great start to the year.
One of my favourite things was being introduced to a boston Hardcore band by the name of Defeater. Defeater have released two albums since coming together in early 2008, a full length "Travels" and an EP "Lost Ground" What sets these apart from most releases is that these are both conceptual albums. Taken from their record labels website "Unique in that each song read as a narrative chapter from a novel while creating an embellished piece of fiction set in post WWII America in a broken home." The EP "Lost Ground" takes off from a character that is introduced in track six called "Prophet in plain clothes" this EP was written in a similar narrative style to Travels following a man's journey from enlisting in the military to post-war life." Easily two of my favourite CD's in the last few years.
Below is the first track from Lost Ground and the Lyrics/Story for the album, you can check out more here
http://www.myspace.com/defeater
*My momma passed in april of '43. at her funeral i remember wacthin' the rain hit the wood of her coffin as we set it in the dirt. she had a nice place to rest, with her momma and father next to her. none seen of my daddy though, he was lost off over seas in the first world war, same time as i was born here in birmingham. my momma always told me he was a kind man, a lovin' man. he took care of her and what she needed, fought hard for what he believed in. she told me that when he set off for war, she told him about bein' blessed with me, and he just smiled and told her how proud and strong i would grow up to be. and here i am, just finishin' up my basic, findin' my way into the same path my father did. i aim to please them, have them lookin' down on me, and me know i am doin' them right.
THE RED, WHITE AND BLUES
That whiskey burns goin' down. old man pour me another round, because it's my last night in town, and i ain't thinkin' of slowin' down. no i am fixin' to drown 'til i see the sun, or i can't see. because i got the blues, and the blues got me. i'm gonna make my momma proud, her boy on the front lines. and just like my daddy done, i ain't afraid to die. i ain't no fortunate one, but i am proud of what i done. and hardships, i seen some, but i ain't no coward, i don't turn and run. so i stumble home and pack up my old memories. pictures of ma, my daddy's flask she gave me. "keep it near your heart" she would always say. it's all he left and so that's where it will stay. and her leatherbound book of psalms and prayers, that she would always read with patience and care. a short walk to the cemetary to pay respect before i leave. 1901 to 1943. i run my fingers through her name and the effigy. the sun is
up, and it's all i see. i got the blues and they still
got me. i'm gonna make my momma proud, her hopeful new recruit. and just like my daddy done, i'm gonna bleed red, white and blue.
* When i was about fifteen, my momma gave me a silver flask my daddy left her while he was away. he told her to keep a little bit in there, just in case she missed him too much, if she should need somethin' to ease the pain. i wish i had met him, i think we would have gotten along quite nice, we both seem to have a dear friend in the drink. i spent a month or so gettin' pissed up and thrown out of every place in town, and i figure i walked by them recruitment posters thirty or so times before they took. but when they did, after ma died, my heart wouldn't settle for anything else. so i sobered myself up and found myself in front of a sargeant's desk, no older than me, signin' my life away for this country. if there was a place for me, it was with a gun
in my hand. i met my captain the day we shipped out, he was from monroe county, just a few hours from me. it was nice to have someone else from alabama there with me, it reminded me of home.
THE BITE AND STING
I've spent days in this trench in the snow, just my gun by my side. it's cold and wet and you're all alone up keepin' watch at night. the bite and the sting that the bitter cold brings reminds you, that you're still alive. the hope and the pride that we all hold inside seems to break when another boy dies. we ain't seen no germans for days, we're just tired and sore. and it feels like i'm wastin' away, so i drink from my flask to stay warm. every bomb miles away, every fading engine cry, still makes your heart start to race, keeps you prayin' at night. been too quiet, and too calm for somethin' not to be wrong, so we sit as brothers in arms. so we wait, and we shake, hear the roar of the tanks and the gunfire of the on-comin'
storm. the ring in our ears, and the cold rush of fear overtakes us with the enemy in sight. i stagger, but don't falter, i aim and pull the trigger, and we fight. but it all happens so fast, the blur of the sweat in my eyes. but with every man i kill it seems two of my friends fall to die. i'm down on my knees, feel the pain in my gut, and the snow is covered in blood. i crawl to my captain's side, his head on my knee, says "see to it, that my grave is kept clean." i wake up in a hospital bed. there are rows and rows and rows of dyin' kids. and i know, my whole infantry is dead.
* I was back in alabama in late '44, after a few weeks of medics fixin' me up over seas. i only took one bullet, just a grazin' on my side, my daddy's flask stopped the other right in my breast pocket. but one bullet was all it took to take the lives of my friends. so i took a bus up to monroeville for the captain's service, i new i could never repay him for all the good he did for me at war, so i went to pay my last respects. and he would have done the same for me.
A WOUND AND SCAR
i stand next to an empty grave where my friends will lay. i'll put their bodies down into their restin' place. i got a purple heart for a wound and scar, they just sent letters home that broke their families apart. the pallbearer's burden as heavy as my heart's hurtin', all the pain and guilt my head is ponderin'. why them and not me? did you ever hear that coffin sound? it means another poor boy is in the ground. have you ever heard them church bells toll? it means another poor boy is dead and gone. the preachers preach, holdin' folded flags. mothers mourn, holdin' folded flags. just caskets and folded flags. no hope, just folded flags. no hope.
* I had a few odds and ends type jobs around town for a while, sweepin' up at the barber's shop, shinin' shoes outside the bus station. but they only lasted weeks at a time, seemed even though i had lived here my whole life, i was just a stranger. i would visit my momma every once in a while, break down wishin' i was laid up next to her. i tried and i tried not to let life back home get the best of me, but it was so goddamned hard. with what little money saved, i usually spent on drinkin' and then payin' to sleep in a room above the bar. wasn't too bad, a lot of men like me that came home from the war with nothin', just a room and a bed was enough. one of the men livin' up there had his daddy's old guitar, and it was just about the prettiest thing i had seen. i played one years back that belonged to one of the boys on me ma's old block, and he taught me some slide and some pickin', but nothin' much. this man livin' up there with me, could he ever
play. he'd stay up late in the night just pickin' his blues away, and boy did we have them blues.
HOME AIN'T NEVER HOME
I'm wanderin' these streets alone, they don't feel like home. this once hallowed ground feels like a ghost town now. i'm on the street corners every day and at night i drink it away. this flask that saved my life, might be the death of me. ain't no man in this city will take a chance on me. the color of my skin is all they see. i was a hero when i came home, now no one seems to know. and this medal that i received, it means nothin' to me. i keep readin' my momma's prayers, but i find nothin' there that makes any sense to me. her god is no more than a thief. i'm gonna pack up, i'm gonna leave town on a train car headin' north bound. with my lost hope, i'm gonna get out, carry burdens, carry my guilt. i'm gonna leave. i carry burdens, my burden of watchin' good men fall and brave boys die. hearin' soldiers sob in the dead of night. every poor young soul that died in vain, every soldier lost in this country's name. my guilt, and my shame. no pride and no
name, just burdens.
* Years went by with me on the road, never noticin' just how fast time could pass. ridin' empty cabooses with other men in the same place as me, with nothin' and goin' nowhere. i seen more things in those years i ever thought possible, never knew how pretty this country could be. i'd sit and watch the landscape out the open rail car door, the untouched fields and trees, the cows in their pastures. it was all so beautiful to me. and then it was back to jumpin' off one set of tracks and hopin' the next, stoppin' off in some small town for a week lookin' for work. always the same, spit shinin' rich men's shoes while they wait for a bus or trolly car to work. and not one of them ever knew the man kneelin' in front of them fought to keep him safe in his easy life. so i'd get my things together with the money i made and move on. years and years like this can beat a man into the ground, but i kept movin' on. i think it was '59 when i had run into that guitar
pickin' man from birminham in one of those train yeards. he told me he had gotten out like me to see the world, but he hadn't gotten too far just yet. we decided to keep travelin' north, til we got to one of them big cities, where no one would care what we looked like, or where we been, and we could just sit and play that guitar all day. because in a big place like that, some other men got to have the blues too. after a few more years, we found our way to new york. buildings goin' up to the sky, men like us goin' under ground.
SINGIN' NEW YORK TOWN
My saviour, this city. my comfort, her pity. or so i hoped. my heartache, my hard luck, my war time, my struggle that no one knows. in the alleys where i sleep, i beg and beg for the food i eat. all the pain and the hurt in your gut where it burns, every man here is just like me. the wind blowin' 'round the snow, makes a man freeze straight to the bone. so i drink and i drink and i try not to think of all the people i lost at home. these six strings i'm playin' and these songs i'm singin' keep me alive. these strangers that curse me, the hero they don't see, just waitin' to die. i ain't the man i used to be, i feel the city as it's crushin' me. i am losin' ground on these city streets, new york town has got the best of me. the southern ground where my momma sleeps, she found death and she found peace. there's an empty grave next to where she lay, the where i'm supposed to be. i beg and i plead for her god to hear me, he's just a coward, and a thief. i
pray and i pray, if he is there to answer me, but i hear nothin'.
* After findin' our way to new york, it was back to just more of the same. playin' on the street, shinin' shoes, cleanin' up in bars and houses for room and board. the color of your skin didn't seem to matter as much up here, but your time in war didn't seem to matter much either. no man would give you so much as a dollar a day, for any kinda work. i had gotten pretty good pickin' that guitar, and i tried to get in those coffee shops that seemed to be poppin' up all over now-a-days. but they didn't care much for my sound, said i just was a hillbilly. so i would just keep playin' where i could, put my hat down and just sing until my lungs were sore and my fingers would bleed. i won't ever forget that day i saw that young man watchin' me.
BEGGIN' IN THE SLUMS
I ain't been sleepin' well these days. i lie awake listenin' to the trains wishing for one to come and take me away. i've lost my way every place i've been, i'm tired of thinkin' of all the hurt i've seen. wishin' for death to finally take me. my days are all the same, on the corners i beg and play. i blow my lungs out for some stranger's change. the nights are long and cold under bridges when you're all alone. the embers of the fire build like drifts of snow. i've been thrown out, i've been let down. never felt the promise of this town there was supposed to be when i left home. i am washed up, on my last breath. just an old man with nothin' left. it ain't the way it was supposed to be when i came home. my ups and my downs have burnt me out. these people watchin' me and the swan song that i sing. and in the crowd i see the eyes that have been broken down, just like mine. i hope my words dig deep, i hope he's listenin'. and sees what i've become, just a just a beaten man beggin' in slums. i found my hope, i finally found my hope in the poor lost soul's eyes that were burnin' just like mine.
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Zef Side
