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Steve Martin –338

ALBUM: Let’s Get Small (1977)

MVC Rating: 4.0/$

I got this record around my junior or senior year in high school in Athens, Ga., and Steve Martin was taking off.

From writing for sketches on TV on shows such as the Smothers Brothers, he moved quickly to being an on-air comedian. His Saturday Night Live appearances boosted audiences by the hundreds of thousands. His ‘Excuse Me’ and “We’re just two wild and crazy guys’ became national catch-phrases. Then he went to movies. Some good ones Father of the Bride, All of Me; Some not so good, Dead Men Don’t Wore Plaid, Pennies from Heaven.

The Jerk in 1979 is along with Airplane, Dumb and Dumber and Ace Ventura Pet Detective, among the best lowbrow comedies of an era, punctuated with pratfalls and bathos.

Martin, Robin Williams and especially Jim Carrey drew heavily on the physical comedy of Jerry Lewis. But took that style to new and different levels.

But Martin was no lowbrow draw. Inspired by his philosophy classes, Martin considered becoming a professor instead of an actor–comedian, Martin’s Wikipedia page says..

“It changed what I believe and what I think about everything. I majored in philosophy. Something about non-sequiturs appealed to me. In philosophy, I started studying logic and they were talking about cause and effect, and you start to realize, ‘Hey, there is no cause and effect! There is no logic! There is no anything!’ Then it gets real easy to write this stuff because all you have to do is twist everything hard—you twist the punch line, you twist the non-sequitur so hard away from the things that set it up.”

That comedy was on full display on the ‘Let’s Get Small’ album.

On ‘One way to leave your lover’ he starts a lament about his girlfriend whome he lost one tragic night. I feel responsible Martin tells the audience. We were at a party and she had too much to drink. She snatched the keys from my hands. I told her no don’t go but she wouldn’t listen.
Then Martin pauses and says: “So I shot her.”
The audience doesn’t know whether to laugh or what.
He waits and then adds: “With a shotgun.”
Martin is chuckling a sinister chuckle.
Non sequitur delivered.

The comedy is good and the record is inexpensive. Should have no trouble finding for under $5.

“
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I decided to quit driving. How’s that going for me? (Blog version)

This is an opinion/humor column in that the author is of the opinion there’s humor in this column. The views are solely those of Mike Oliver and do not reflect those of AL.com — and especially not the views of Catherine.

I gave up driving some time ago.

As a 59-year-old man living with Lewy body dementia, I believed I was doing myself and others a favor by turning the wheel over.

The view from the passenger side has given me a totally different perspective, onefueled by adrenaline and abject terror.

Every day I gather my stuff together, grab a cup of coffee and hurry outside to the passenger seat. My wife, Catherine, is waiting which I can see but she tells me anyway. She’s in the driver’s seat.

Many days I arrive at my Birmingham office white=knuckled and covered in a nice cold layer of sweat.

“Bye bye dear,” my wife Catherine says as I practically roll out of the car – though she usually slows down a bit.

On those really bad days where my hands are a vise grip on arm rests, she finds it helpful to pull my pinky finger back first in order for the rest of my fingers to relinquish their grip. She learned that in a self-defense class some years ago.

“Aaaaauuuugghh,” I scream.

On this particular day, I wasn’t sure how I went from vise grips to lying on the street. But I popped up, brushed off my clothes and snatched my nearby backpack containing my laptop just seconds before it would have been crushed under the wheels of a 10-ton transit bus.

“That was close,” my lovely wife noticed and felt the urge to verbalize.

You think? Captain Obvious.

I kept that thought to myself. But I continued my silent thought:

Sure it was close but not as close as you came to hitting a garbage dumpster about 10 minutes ago as you tried to shoot the narrow gap on a merge between a car and the aforementioned dumpster.

The dumpster was on my side – the passenger side — and appeared to be coming at me at 50 mph.

“Honey slow down now,” I said gently. “We are coming to a merge here. Um, there’s a merge here. Catherine? We are not going to make that gap. Catherine, seriously the car won’t fit in that space, slow down.”

I think she sped up to get ahead of the car. My voice got a little louder.

“HONEY YOU ARE NOT GOING TO MAKE IT THROUGH THERE!

S-L-O-W T-H-E F-U-D-G-E D-O-W-N

I actually don’t know if I fell asleep for a few seconds or just closed my eyes, whatever my body’s adrenal glands were plain used up. No crash noise did I hear. No scraping the top of the car off by a dumpster sized can opener. Regaining consciousness, my head was on a swivel looking back and front, incredulous that she once again had threaded the needle.

I gathered myself and was almost inaudible. “I did not think you could make that.”

She was humming along with a song on the radio.

She wasn’t even listening to me at this point. I think she was still a bit angry because early in the trip when I yelled ‘Watch Out’ at the top of my lungs. Turns out she didn’t really need to watch out. My bad, sheesh, no need to hold a grudge.

To be fair, I have found that it’s not just Catherine who drives like this. It’s practically every single person who takes me somewhere pulls these scary maneuvers on what seems like every single trip when I am in the passenger seat.

How could this be?

From my new vantage point, maybe I’m coming to some truths about myself and others and the difficulties it is to be more dependent on others.

The passenger side takes me away from my comfort zone and into a world where I have to learn to accept that I am dependent on other human beings.

Yes, the passenger side has given me new perspectives and confirmed a perspective I already suspected:

I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS HOW TO DRIVE.

AL.com version here

Mike Oliver can be reached at moliver@AL.com. Read his blog about living with Lewy body dementia at www.myvinylcountdown.com

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Salt of the Earth

It was the ‘children’s’ message at First Presbyterian Birmingham on Labor Day weekend.

This is where the children are given a kid-friendly explanation of the upcoming sermon.

It was a holiday weekend so not many children were in attendance, but one of the kids made up for it with a barrage of questions and stories.

The little girl had something to say about almost every sentence uttered by Director of  Christian Education  Patti Winter,  a veteran children’s educator, who has mad skills at handling children eruptions diplomatically.

Patti waited patiently through each anecdote coming from the child before she gently steered the conversation back to her message.

The message on this day was the ‘salt of the earth’ passage, Matthew 5-13:

“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.’

Patti talked about how salt is helpful to make food taste better.  She said salt is also used in  dyes to make colors brighter and, if that wasn’t enough, she said salt goes into plastics to make the plastics better. She did a little more talking about the virtues of salt and the meaning behind the passage before getting ready to go. The children’s program had by now taken on a little extra length.

But wait, the girl’s hand was in the air again

OK, last question, Patti said.

In a sincere voice, the girl asked:

“What about pepper?”

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Yeats, Eminem and Trump walk into a bar … (blog version)

<Note the full version is on AL.com>

A lively give and take as three influential men get together and talk. And rap. The words are actual quotes or lyrics of those to whom they are attributed – however this author takes poetic license in the context surrounding the meeting, or even if there was such a meeting.

Slim Shady: Now these critics crucify you, journalists try to burn you, fans turn on you.

Donald J. Trump: The media is–really, the word, I think one of the greatest of all terms I’ve come up with–is fake.

W.B. Yeats: If you have revisited the town, thin Shade,

Whether to look upon your monument

(I wonder if the builder has been paid)

 Slim Shady:

Just a feeling I’ve got, like something’s about to happen, but I don’t know what
If that means, what I think it means, we’re in trouble, big trouble,
And if he is as bananas as you say, I’m not taking any chances

Trump: Crooked Hillary Clinton is the worst (and biggest) loser of all time. She just can’t stop, which is so good for the Republican Party.

Yeats: But the gyre is ‘widening’: it is getting further and further away from its centre, its point of origin. In short, it’s losing control, and ‘the centre cannot hold’

Slim Shady, nodding his head to a beat inside his head: You better lose yourself in the music, the moment 
You own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime

Eminem (Billboard.com)
(Here, the bartender turns on the TV showing a pre-season professional football game.)

Trump:   The American public is fed up with the disrespect the NFL is paying to our Country, our Flag and our National Anthem. Weak and out of control!” 

Yeats: That is no country for old men. … Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

Trump: Why would Kim Jong-un insult me by calling me ‘old,’ when I would NEVER call him ‘short and fat?’ Oh well, I try so hard to be his friend – and maybe someday that will happen!”

(The men order another round of drinks. An Amstel Light for Eminem, a rum and Coke for Yeats, and a low-cal virgin strawberry margarita with a Happy Hour $1 pizza slice for Trump. The day workers were getting off work now and filling up the bar.)

To continue  go here on AL.com.

 

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John McCain’s last words are right on (blog version)

 

So what’s the last word?

McCain

 

John McCain said before he died, “I love you, I have not been cheated.”

Wow. I love those last words as relayed by McCain’s good friend Sen. Lindsey Graham.

McCain had left a written statement but these words spoken to Graham were the actual last words.

My praise of McCain’s utterances  comes from a guy (me) who has been thinking about last words. I’ve also been looking at epitaphs (no brother, not epithets.)

But before I get into some of the best last words of all time, let’s breakdown the last words of John ‘The Maverick’ McCain.

I’m not going to make this at all a political column but I will say I admire Sen. McCain. Anybody who can survive the harsh conditions of a Vietnamese prisoner camp for more than five years, is one tough dude and deserves my respect and my thanks for his service.

Graham, a long-time friend, was reportedly at bedside when McCain made comments before dying.

“I love you,” he told Lindsay.

Those three words.

A connection to humanity. The word love is the most defined, undefined word in the lexicon.

It’s the best thing you can say to somebody — if you mean it.

Forget the fact that we don’t know what it means, love that is. OK, we know what it means, I believe, we just can’t articulate it.

Second part of McCain’s last words: I have not been cheated.

I think he’s saying he lived a full life. And what an interesting way to say it. I haven’t been cheated.

Is that humble downplay or is it a slightly negative way of assessing the state of his life? Instead of ‘I have been blessed …” or “I have been rewarded with a good life” on his deathbed, he was saying  “I haven’t been cheated.” Some might interpret that negatively, like ‘not getting cheated’ is the most important point he can break out about his life?

But I think it is simply McCain saying, ‘I had a good one. No worries.”

Mental Floss, the excellent online compendium of great lists and stories, has assembled the dying words of 64 people in history ith the help of Words of Notable People. I’ll cull it to a Top 10.

Here’s the list, my comments in italics.

Elvis Presely: “I’m going to the bathroom to read.” No no no.

Frank Sinatra died after saying, “I’m losing it.” That’s what I call concise and on point.

Marie Antoinette stepped on her executioner’s foot on her way to the guillotine. Last words: “Pardonnez-moi, monsieur.” Showing the strength of a human being is saying “Excuse me’ to your executioner.

Richard B. Mellon: “Last tag.’

The wealthy man was the President of Alcoa, and he and his brother Andrew had a little game of Tag going. According to Mental Floss, the weird thing was, this game of Tag lasted for like seven decades. When Richard was on his deathbed, he called his brother over and whispered, “Last tag.” Poor Andrew remained “It” for four years, until he died. Life is about having fun and competing. Mellon and brother kept it going to the end. I salute you.

Leonardo da Vinci: “I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have.” Leo, don’t beat yourself up, but you are right, the Mona Lisa’s smile should have been wider.

Murderer James W. Rodgers was put in front of a firing squad in Utah and asked if he had a last request. He replied, “Bring me a bullet-proof vest.” When you got nothing, be a wise guy.

John Arthur Spenkelink was executed in Florida in 1979. He spent his final days writing these last words on various pieces of mail: “Capital punishment means those without the capital get the punishment.” Ah, this guy addresses a sweeping and problematic social issue as he walks to his death penalty.

Groucho Marx: “This is no way to live!” He got that right and died.

Blues guitarist Leadbelly said, “Doctor, if I put this here guitar down now, I ain’t never gonna wake up.” And he was right. Hope he got buried with it.

Bo Diddley died listened to the song “Walk Around Heaven.” His last word was “Wow.”

And my wife’s grandmother Inez Burns lived to be 100. At her bedside she told Catherine her granddaughter who was telling her she was leaving for home in Florida. Inez said: “I’m going to have to go now too. Goodbye. I love you.” And she died.

My last word, for now, is “Wow.‘

NOTE: Mental Floss cites Last Words of Notable People as a major source in their list. Another version of this appears here.

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Firesign Theatre, First Family 466, 465, 464

ALBUMS:  Firesign Theater: ‘Don’t Crush that Dwarf, Hand me the Pliers” (1970);  Eat Or Be Eaten (1985);  and, The First Family Vaughn Meader. (1962)

This is comedy which is hard to keep fresh once infused in beloved vinyl.

Firesign Theatre was a brilliant  comedy troupe from another time. America’s Monty Python, sort of.

They did live shows, radio and lots of records.

The two FT albums I have are considered among their best, ‘Dwarf’ is often cited as groundbreaking in 1970 when it came out. In 2005, Dwarf was added to the National Recording Registry, a list of sound recordings that “are culturally, historically, or aesthetically important, and/or inform or reflect life in the U.S.’ Dwarf was also called by Rolling Stone Record guide as the best comedy album of all time.

I’m throwing in  a non-Firesign record,  Vaughn Meader’s First Family, a successful parody of the JFK White House.  It is definitely dated coming from 1962.  But you wouldn’t believe how popular this was  at one time.

Dwarf and Eaten use similar techniques even though 15  years separates them. Firesign use what I’ll call the ‘drop-in’ method of listener interaction. The listener is dropped in to the middle of something, anything,. It could be a fake advertisement, or the middle of a dialogue between friends.

But while it sounds random,  there’s a narrative thread running through, at least In Dwarf.  It’s a story about George Tirebiter,  a former child actor who lays around and watches late night TV. The narrative frequently is interrupted when Tirebiter changes channels.

Lots of a great work on the recording using voices on radios, TV, or telephones, ambient sounds galore and that effect where it sounds like someone is in another room. And walks by  in stereo.

WIth Firesign, the aural presentation is an art; the records demand audience attention to stay on their toes as funny bits just  parachute in without warning.

As I said earlier, humor on vinyl is a difficult medium to stand the test of time.  I’m guessing there’s not a lot of market out there for old comedy albums, unless deemed a classic.

But in some way I guess you could say  that about music.  There are timeless songs but there are also a  lot of songs that don’t date well:  I don’t think we’ll have to wait until 2525 to see if Zager & Evans had a point. And that was their best song!

One piece on the’ Eat or be Eaten’ album is an advertisement to see Bob Dylan live at the Met where he’ll be singing opera in Bavarian and German languages.

“It’s just like the 60s,’ the advertisement spokesman says. “No one can understand a word he’s saying. And that’s when Dylan’s at his best.”

Vaughn Meader’s White House with JFK was apparently  all the rage back in the early 1960s. It’s amusing in spots such as when all the world leaders gather together and give their sandwich orders.

But there’s a lot of jokes and laughing about stuff that in 2018 sounds sounds like an inside joke.

According to the Wikipedia page, the album,  issued by Cadence was honored as “the largest and fast selling record in the history of the record industry’ selling at  more than a million copies per week for the first six  weeks.

Can that be true?

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Forgive J.R. Smith (blog version)

NOTE:  A version of this originally appeared on AL.com.

I remember it like it was yesterday (and I have a degenerative brain disease.)

Playing right field, I reacted to the crack of the bat. This was big time Little League baseball in Athens, Ga.

“Please don’t let it come to me” went through my head like 1,000 times in a millisecond. Everything slowed down. My adrenaline was surging through my body. Everything slowed waaaay down. People were shouting 33-1/3 rpm when they should have been 45 rpm:

“Dooon’t Drop The Ball,” a horde of deep bass Lurches were yelling . I was moving in slow motion like I was underwater. I thought about my dog, Lucy.  Lucy had died recently. Oh my gosh,  Lucy is dead. I grieved in a millisecond.  I thought about my Dad in the stands, won’t he be proud of me if I catch this.  i thought about my Aunt Velma in Idaho, wait a minute,  I don’t have an Aunt Velma in Idaho.

Then things sped up triple speed. Whoooooooooosh!  Bat crack. Baseball is tiny dot in earth’s upper atmosphere. Falling, falling, getting bigger. Smacks my leather glove. Rolls out.

I dropped the ball.

In three seconds, I lived a lifetime.

The bases– which seemed pretty well  occupied by other team baseball kids — cleared . I’m not sure,  but I think all nine of their players touched home plate in the frenzy afterward.

The game, or life as they like to call it in Athens, Ga., was over.

Just like in the Johnny Cash song , ‘I  hung my head and cried.’

Flash forward to just a few weeks ago, I was playing basketball in  my Old Man Hoops League here in Birmingham. Good friends we all are. They helped organize a basketball fund-raiser for Lewy body dementia last year which we are looking to reprise (stay tuned for details).

So these are very good friends. They know my game and have an extensive scouting report on me. Boiled down the report is:  He used to be good, now he’s not.

Fair enough. Good bulletin board  material. (Smiley face insert here).

It was a next-bucket-wins the game thing. I had the ball. Most of the time I’d take a shot in that situation. But  out of the corner of  my eye  I saw Paul in an area  where he is comfortable  and accurate with his sweet little jumper. My faithful  and often painful worship of my childhood hero Pete Maravich possessed me to swing a behind-the-back pass to Paul which was rather easily picked off by Clay.

There commenced a race down the court which my 58-year-old legs denied me permission to participate in. They scored, they won.

My team avoided eye contact with me.

I know this is a long way to  getting to  the J.R. Smith headline. J.R, a good longtime NBA sharpshooter now with Cleveland Cavaliers, famously made a boo boo last week  in an extremely important  NBA Playoff game. The consensus is that he thought  his team was ahead when he rebounded the ball   with seconds left.  But it  was tied. Instead of putting it back up for a score and a win, he dribbled the ball out. Tied, the clock ran out and the game went into overtime.

Guess who won in overtime.

I’ll bet the world slowed down and sped  up for him.

National headlines. A public shaming.

Few thoughts. First he needs to come clean  and apologize to his teammates. And maybe he has. If so good for him!  I sought forgiveness  and it was good. “Don’t do that ever again,” my teammates said.

Thanks for your forgiveness, I said. (That’s how we usually say we forgive each other: Don’t ever let it happen again.

Secondly, J.R. needs to seek therapy.

This isn’t the first high level boneheaded play for him. For goodness sakes there’s a YouTube video chronicling his mistakes. Maybe there’s something from childhood that is stopping him from being all he can be.

I have a friend, yeah that’s right, a friend,  who was having recurring nightmares  about dropping a baseball and then after therapy he  had a dream that he caught it. Yaaaaaay. He ran around with ball in hand triumphantly.

But everybody was pointing and laughing.

Because he had no clothes on.

AAAARGH. Just a dream. Just a friend’s dream. Sometimes therapy doesn’t work.

But I forgive you J.R Smith.

I’ve been there.

 

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More of Mike’s musings or things Mark Twain never said (blog version)

 

NOTE: This is my blog version of that which appeared on AL.com today. It has some bonus sayings.  (No I didn’t say boneheaded sayings, but they are there too).

Y’all seemed to have enjoyed the last round of things Mark Twain didn’t say so I fetched another batch. (Hope I didn’t misquote myself.)

Mark Twain said nothing in this article.

Here we go:

When I make up my mind to do something, then by golly, I may do it.

We all need to hurry up and slow down.

Buy LOW, sell HIGH? Dang. All these years I had it backwards.

Is it redundant to say ‘pain hurts?’

Is it redundant to ask if something is redundant when you know already it’s redundant?

How come bald men can grow beards?

True fact: The person who invented scrambled eggs did it by accident.

They say everybody bleeds red. But that’s anecdotal evidence.

You know ‘misspell’ is one of the most mispelled words.

You know I still get blown away by this fact: Fish breathe underwater.

Is there anything harder than forgiving yourself?

Why I think dolphins are smarter than humans? Dolphins don’t try to blow each other up.

So the smart folks say there’s more stars in the sky then there are grains of sand on the beach. But they forget there are endless beaches on endless planets in endless solar systems. Whenever you think you’re finished counting, there’s another beach full of sand to count. So, I’ll call it a tie.

If God is a woman, well wow, talk about shattering the glass ceiling.

Can you believe popcorn was invented before the microwave?

What if Father Time and Mother Earth switched jobs? Mom would enforce bedtime curfews and dad would mow the world.

‘Let it Be Me’ was a good song, ‘Let it Be’ was a great song, I can’t wait for ‘Let It.’

Hey Johnny Cash, I shot a man in Reno then ran like hell.

I always thought healthy was two words – heal thy.

Hey Johnny Cash, I hugged a man in Reno just to see the expression on his face.

Hey Johnny Paycheck, take this job and try to keep it, you know you need a paycheck, Paycheck.

Anybody ever wrapped a cell phone in cellophane?

Is life practice? Or the game.

If life is a game how do you know if you won?

The Bible in Acts says ‘your old men will dream dreams.’ Dream dreams? Is that redundant?

Why do we have toenails?

I said it once and I’ll say it again. Soon as I remember.

Do you ever look into somebody’s eyes and get the notion that they know you are secretly a Cowsills fan and that because of that they think you are weird but they don’t say anything, they just look into your eyes? I don’t either.

Wow, did you know the chance of monkeys typing the complete works of Shakespeare is really low but eventually, if given infinite time, they will do it? That’s according to the ‘infinite monkey theorem.’ Not sure how long I have, but I’d appreciate it if they could knock out a few columns for me before tackling Shakespeare.

I sure hope the blue moon of Kentucky keeps on shining.

Lust seems so naughty.

What’s up with trial and error? How about no trial and get it right the first time. Sheeeez.

My cell phone voicemail: Can you hear me now? (pause) Can you hear me now? (pause) Can you hear me now?

A regular columnist at AL.com, Mike Oliver can be reached at moliver@al.com. He chronicles his degenerative brain disease here and on his blog www.myvinylcountdown

This column is dedicated to Emily, my middle daughter, who as a youngster used to sit around with me and laugh as we tossed off all the Yogi Berra sayings we could find (and then make up our own). We finally came to a fork in the road, and, of course, picked it up.

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Sayings to live by, or adjacent to, or in the same block of

NOTE: A different version of this is posted on AL.com here.

One day recently, I happened to be hanging around with myself and overheard some of the things I say. I’m a fan of Steven Wright so some sounded like him. Some sounded like Mark Twain on a day when he wasn’t feeling well. Will Rogers? Well Will he?

Anyway here they are. My joy would be that you stick them on that refigerator called Facebook.

  • I have a memory disorder. I remember things before they happen. After they happen?  Not so  much.
  • Heard of food for thought? Well I’ve got some thoughts give me some food.
  • One of the symptoms of Lewy body dementia is hallucinations. I had one yesterday but it turned out I was dreaming that I was  hallucinating.
  • Digital divide, digital first, digital upload, middle  digital.
  • Life is what happens when you’re sitting in traffic.
  • I’m learning to feel deja vu on demand.
  • I know it sounds paranoid, but I’m paranoid.
  • I believe in God because I don’t want to have to learn quantum physics.
  • Think quickly, speak slowly
  • I don’t want to get out of my comfort zone.
  • Where is my comfort zone?
  • Eat early  and often.
  • Love is not saying you have a pimple on your nose. But do you have to say your sorry if you do?
  • Freedom is just another word for having left your cell phone at home.
  • Dylan said you got to keep on keeping on but  I’m not sure what I’m keeping on.
  • I like writing quotes from myself because I don’t have to fact check them.
  • A simile is like a word/ a metaphor is a word. That’s my analogy anyway.
  • Mark Twain said everything except for  those things Will Rogers said.
  • My guilty pleasure philosopher is Socrates because he was too lazy to write all of his sayings down. Instead, he enlisted Aristotle and Plato.
  • Steven Wright asks if you are in a spaceship going  the speed of light, what happens when  you turn the lights on.? I ask what happens if your going the speed of sound and you turn the radio on?
  • I see a lot of dogs walking people these days.

If  you like those, then, well, read them again. I got no more. At least right now.

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Train songs, countdown and musical tastes

Train train, take me on out of this town. Man. There are a lot train songs I’m learning.

Catching regular blog readers up to date on a couple of things:

I first posted my train song list on my blog. Then I added some commentary and a concern and posted  my list  — same list –on AL.com.

In that last post I told readers I have been dissatisfied with my blog post list of train songs, namely the Grateful Dead’s ‘Casey Jones.’ Not a big Dead fan anyway,  and the performance by Jerry Garcia is lackluster and has ‘cocaine’ running all through it. So I made a call out for replacements. Based on emails, texts and comments from stories, here’s a list we can draw from to replace Casey Jones (unless there’s an outpouring of support for that Dead song?)

I am amazed at the quality and depth of the selections, these aren’t all of them, I had to do some pruning. But it is a good many.

I’m going to make the final decision, here are the suggestions and I will make a pick by the weekend.

  • “Love in Vain” Robert Johnson. The legendary blues guitarist who influenced Clapton and a legion of rock guitar slingers.
  • “Orange Blossom Special,” Johnny Cash.
  • Elizabeth Cotton or Pete Seeger, Freight Train. Cotton is an amazing woman. Check out this video.

  • Paul Simon’s “Train in the Distance.”
  • Aeorosmith “Train Kept a Rollin’ the rollicking  cover of old blues song, also done by the Yardbirds.
  • ‘Last Train to Clarksville’ by the Monkees.
  • The Nields’ “Train.” Leave it to my good friend Bob to come up with something I’ve never heard or heard of — and it’s a great piece by a female duo.
  • “Waitin’ for a Train” by Jimmie Rodgers, the Singing Brakeman, another legendary folk singer (complete with yodels).
  • “Peace Train” by Cat Stevens
  • City of New Orleans” The Arlo Guthriy version of the Steve Goodman song.
  • Syd Straw’s “The Train that Takes You Away.” Great, if not obscure, song.
  • Gary Clarke, Jr’s bluesy rocker, “When My Train Pulls In.” Audience loved him so much they serenaded him before  he launched in bluesy train song.

  • “Throw Mama From a Train — a Kiss a Kiss.” The Sandpipers. Funny funny. Thanks Marvin.
  • Nanci Griffith – 1) So Long Ago. 2) Southbound Train. Nanci has a few train songs in her and I like them all.
  • Janis Joplin – Me and Bobbi McGee. Um, this is possibly my favorite all time song. Not sure it’s a train song, though the protagonist is ‘headin’ for a train,  feeling nearly faded as my jeans.’ Kristofferson wrote. Found this video of an aging Kristofferson doing this — pretty amazing:

  • Eagles – Train Leaves Here This Morning – Pleasant. Not so sure the Dude would like it.
  • Gordon Lightfoot – Canadian Railroad Trilogy. Historic account of real event as Gordon liked to do.
  • Wreck of the Old 97. Classic country sung by Johnny Cash and  others.
  • Desperados waiting for a Train –Guy Clark (several other versions), including the aforementioned Nanci with Clark.
  • “The Train Song” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.
  • Chattanooga Choo Choo —classic, written by a songwriting duo while on a train called the Birmingham Special. Would have been a slam dunk if they named it the Birmingham Choo Choo. (Or, perhaps, not)>
  • “The Locomotion” original by LIttle Eva, babysitter for Carole King. Later Grand Funk Railroad.
  • And one reader says it would be a ‘travesty’ to get rid of Grateful Dead entirely so the reader suggested Dead renditions of “Big Railroad Blues” or Willie Fuller’s “Beat It On Down the Line,” either his original or their cover of it.