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Thread: Great Songwriters

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  1. #31
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    Cale released a great new album just last year. Here he is with two other great songwriters

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    "I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn how to do it."

  2. #32
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters


    It began when they come took me from my home
    And put me in Dead Row,
    Of which I am nearly wholly innocent, you know.
    And I'll say it again
    I..am..not..afraid..to..die.
    I began to warm and chill
    To objects and their fields,
    A ragged cup, a twisted mop
    The face of Jesus in my soup
    Those sinister dinner meals
    The meal trolley's wicked wheels
    A hooked bone rising from my food
    All things either good or ungood.
    And the mercy seat is waiting
    And I think my head is burning
    And in a way I'm yearning
    To be done with all this measuring of truth.
    An eye for an eye
    A tooth for a tooth
    And anyway I told the truth
    And I'm not afraid to die.
    Interpret signs and catalogue
    A blackened tooth, a scarlet fog.
    The walls are bad. Black. Bottom kind.
    They are sick breath at my hind
    They are sick breath at my hind
    They are sick breath at my hind
    They are sick breath gathering at my hind
    I hear stories from the chamber
    How Christ was born into a manger
    And like some ragged stranger
    Died upon the cross
    And might I say it seems so fitting in its way
    He was a carpenter by trade
    Or at least that's what I'm told
    Like my good hand I
    tatooed E.V.I.L. across it's brother's fist
    That filthy five! They did nothing to challenge or resist.
    In Heaven His throne is made of gold
    The ark of his Testament is stowed
    A throne from which I'm told
    All history does unfold.
    Down here it's made of wood and wire
    And my body is on fire
    And God is never far away.
    Into the mercy seat I climb
    My head is shaved, my head is wired
    And like a moth that tries
    To enter the bright eye
    I go shuffling out of life
    Just to hide in death awhile
    And anyway I never lied.
    My kill-hand is called E.V.I.L.
    Wears a wedding band that's G.O.O.D.
    `Tis a long-suffering shackle
    Collaring all that rebel blood.
    And the mercy seat is waiting
    And I think my head is burning
    And in a way I'm yearning
    To be done with all this measuring of truth.
    An eye for an eye
    And a tooth for a tooth
    And anyway I told the truth
    And I'm not afraid to die.
    And the mercy seat is burning
    And I think my head is glowing
    And in a way I'm hoping
    To be done with all this weighing up of truth.
    An eye for an eye
    And a tooth for a tooth
    And I've got nothing left to lose
    And I'm not afraid to die.
    And the mercy seat is glowing
    And I think my head is smoking
    And in a way I'm hoping
    To be done with all this looks of disbelief.
    An eye for an eye
    And a tooth for a tooth
    And anyway there was no proof
    Nor a motive why.
    And the mercy seat is smoking
    And I think my head is melting
    And in a way I'm helping
    To be done with all this twisted of the truth.
    A lie for a lie
    And a truth for a truth
    And I've got nothing left to lose
    And I'm not afraid to die.
    And the mercy seat is melting
    And I think my blood is boiling
    And in a way I'm spoiling
    All the fun with all this truth and consequence.
    An eye for an eye
    And a truth for a truth
    And anyway I told the truth
    And I'm not afraid to die.
    And the mercy seat is waiting
    And I think my head is burning
    And in a way I'm yearning
    To be done with all this measuring of proof.
    A life for a life
    And a truth for a truth
    And anyway there was no proof
    But I'm not afraid to tell a lie.
    And the mercy seat is waiting
    And I think my head is burning
    And in a way I'm yearning
    To be done with all this measuring of truth.
    An eye for an eye
    And a truth for a truth
    And anyway I told the truth
    But I'm afraid I told a lie.


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    "I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn how to do it."

  3. #33
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    Moving Sideways another great songwriter whose work has influenced much of my own from his own epic solo albums to the soundtrack of Last temptation of Christ. I have even covered Solsbury Hill

    From Mercy Seat to Mercy Street

    Looking down on empty streets, all she can see
    Are the dreams all made solid
    Are the dreams all made real

    All of the buildings, all of those cars

    Were once just a dream
    In somebody's head

    She pictures the broken glass, she pictures the steam

    She pictures a soul
    With no leak at the seam

    Lets take the boat out

    Wait until darkness
    Let's take the boat out
    Wait until darkness comes

    Nowhere in the corridors of pale green and grey

    Nowhere in the suburbs
    In the cold light of day

    There in the midst of it so alive and alone

    Words support like bone

    Dreaming of mercy st.

    Wear your inside out
    Dreaming of mercy
    In your daddy('s arms again
    Dreaming of mercy st.
    'swear they moved that sign
    Dreaming of mercy
    In your daddy's arms

    Pulling out the papers from the drawers that slide smooth

    Tugging at the darkness, word upon word

    Confessing all the secret things in the warm velvet box

    To the priest-he's the doctor
    He can handle the shocks

    Dreaming of the tenderness-the tremble in the hips

    Of kissing Mary's lips

    Dreaming of mercy st.

    Wear your insides out
    Dreaming of mercy
    In your daddy's arms again
    Dreaming of mercy st.
    'swear they moved that sign
    Looking for mercy
    In your daddy's arms

    Mercy, mercy, looking for mercy

    Mercy, mercy, looking for mercy

    Anne, with her father is out in the boat

    Riding the water
    Riding the waves on the sea






    The song above is inspired and dedicated to Anne Sexton whose poem 45 Mercy Street appears below

    In my dream,
    drilling into the marrow
    of my entire bone,
    my real dream,
    I'm walking up and down Beacon Hill
    searching for a street sign -
    namely MERCY STREET.
    Not there.

    I try the Back Bay.
    Not there.
    Not there.
    And yet I know the number.
    45 Mercy Street.
    I know the stained-glass window
    of the foyer,
    the three flights of the house
    with its parquet floors.
    I know the furniture and
    mother, grandmother, great-grandmother,
    the servants.
    I know the cupboard of Spode
    the boat of ice, solid silver,
    where the butter sits in neat squares
    like strange giant's teeth
    on the big mahogany table.
    I know it well.
    Not there.

    Where did you go?
    45 Mercy Street,
    with great-grandmother
    kneeling in her whale-bone corset
    and praying gently but fiercely
    to the wash basin,
    at five A.M.
    at noon
    dozing in her wiggy rocker,
    grandfather taking a nap in the pantry,
    grandmother pushing the bell for the downstairs maid,
    and Nana rocking Mother with an oversized flower
    on her forehead to cover the curl
    of when she was good and when she was...
    And where she was begat
    and in a generation
    the third she will beget,
    me,
    with the stranger's seed blooming
    into the flower called Horrid.

    I walk in a yellow dress
    and a white pocketbook stuffed with cigarettes,
    enough pills, my wallet, my keys,
    and being twenty-eight, or is it forty-five?
    I walk. I walk.
    I hold matches at street signs
    for it is dark,
    as dark as the leathery dead
    and I have lost my green Ford,
    my house in the suburbs,
    two little kids
    sucked up like pollen by the bee in me
    and a husband
    who has wiped off his eyes
    in order not to see my inside out
    and I am walking and looking
    and this is no dream
    just my oily life
    where the people are alibis
    and the street is unfindable for an
    entire lifetime.

    Pull the shades down -
    I don't care!
    Bolt the door, mercy,
    erase the number,
    rip down the street sign,
    what can it matter,
    what can it matter to this cheapskate
    who wants to own the past
    that went out on a dead ship
    and left me only with paper?

    Not there.

    I open my pocketbook,
    as women do,
    and fish swim back and forth
    between the dollars and the lipstick.
    I pick them out,
    one by one
    and throw them at the street signs,
    and shoot my pocketbook
    into the Charles River.
    Next I pull the dream off
    and slam into the cement wall
    of the clumsy calendar
    I live in,
    my life,
    and its hauled up
    notebooks.




    Anne Sexton
    Hidden Content

    "I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn how to do it."

  4. #34
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    Quote Originally Posted by Andre View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by Gandalf View Post
    Neil Young
    Jason Lytle
    Bob Dylan
    Strummer/Jones
    John Cale
    Manic Street Preachers
    McCullough/Sergeant
    Bryan Ferry
    Brian Eno
    Reminds me, JJ Cale: John Weldon Cale

    Is the most under the radar type of singer songwriters,Has written and recorded a massive amount of songs /albums used by all types of singers and yet only chooses to have his own fan base and never went commercial, his style is minimalist though, nothing showy,but all class.
    Eric Clapton made a few of his songs more famous. Cocaine/After midnight etc etc
    JJ Cale is the whole package






    His songs are for the most part hidden treasures from the rest of the world.





    will check out the cale stuff when i get a few mins. I remember clapton did alot of jj cale covers over the years and always wondered who jj was.

  5. #35
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    Ive just been flicking through that free online book, these pages on the Beatles are relevant here. I thnk its true of many artists and many people with inventions and ideas too,most say it just came to me when I wasnt thinking about it. Energy and thoughts are one and the same if you relax into enough and dismiss the more densified things in material life.

    Interesting take.

    The Beatles
    Hidden Content " border="0" />

    I can explain it.
    But I cant understand it for you.

  6. #36
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    Billy Joel, absolute legend and a top fella.

  7. #37
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rl2Jv4dzFqg



    When this came out I was convinced that James sung "So damn easy to cave in, Mad Cows Everything"

    FASTER

    I hate purity
    Hate goodness
    I don't want virtue to exist anywhere
    I want everyone corrupt

    I am an architect, they call me a butcher
    I am a pioneer, they call me primitive
    I am purity, they call me perverted
    Holding you but I only miss these things when they leave

    I am idiot drug hive, the virgin, the tattered and the torn
    Life is for the cold made warm and they are just lizards
    Self-disgust is self-obsession honey and I do as I please
    A morality obedient, only to the cleansed repented

    I am stronger than Mensa, Miller and Mailer
    I spat out Plath and Pinter
    I am all the things that you regret
    A truth that washes that learnt how to spell

    The first time you see yourself naked you cry
    Soft skin now acne, foul breath, so broken
    He loves me truly this mute solitude I'm draining
    I know I believe in nothing but it is my nothing

    Sleep can't hide the thoughts splitting through my mind
    Shadows aren't clean, false mirrors too many people awake
    If you stand up like a nail then you will be knocked down
    I've been too honest with myself I should have lied like everybody else

    I am stronger than Mensa, Miller and Mailer
    I spat out Plath and Pinter
    I am all the things that you regret
    A truth that washes that learnt how to spell, learnt to spell

    So damn easy to cave in, man kills everything
    So damn easy to cave in, man kills everything
    So damn easy to cave in, man kills everything
    So damn easy to cave in, man kills everything
    Hidden Content

    "I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn how to do it."

  8. #38
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    Cool thread, lots I would've listed as well have already been done. I haven't seen;

    Brian Wilson
    Nick Drake
    Van Morrison
    Warren Zevon
    Joni Mitchell
    Willie Nelson
    Johnny Cash

    Or how about say; George Gershwin, Duke Ellington, Rodgers and Hammerstein? Guys like that practically invented popular music.
    Thelonius Monk, Bill evans, Miles Davis for straightahead jazz composers, etc. Will post more I'm sure when they come to me.

  9. #39
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    Great line up. Here's a few more:

    John Prine
    Loudon Wainwright
    Kate Bush
    Townes Van Zandt
    Judee Sill
    Bowie
    Muddy Waters
    Leonard Cohen
    Prince
    Nick Drake
    Donovan
    Jack Bruce
    Eddie Vedder
    Van Morrison
    Jackson Browne
    George Clinton
    John Phillips
    Hendrix
    Tommy James
    Johnny Cash
    Jimmy Page
    Robert Plant
    Roger McGuinn
    Robbie Robertson
    Marvin Gaye
    Bob Marley
    Freddy Mercury
    Bill Withers
    David Byrne
    Bo Diddly

  10. #40
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    James blunt? or am I'm on deep water?

  11. #41
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    Well i like abba! they are good!

  12. #42
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    Quincy Jones and Babyface
    Last edited by Master; 01-20-2013 at 09:24 PM.
    Do not let success go to your head and do not let failure get to your heart.

  13. #43
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    John Fogarty , there's a bad moon on the rise, I don't no have you ever seen the rain, excellent song
    writer.

  14. #44
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    Hidden Content

    "I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn how to do it."

  15. #45
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    Default Re: Great Songwriters

    Russ Ballard , God gave rock-roll to you, Since you been gone.

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