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In many ways, Hank Williams is the king of the sad country song. This is one of my personal favorites.

It’s a simple, heartfelt tune, and pretty much anyone can identify with the sentiments in the song, even Tony Bennett, who popularized the song to a mainstream audience.

Here’s a link to a live performance

And of course, the lyrics:

I tried so hard my dear to show that youre my every dream.
Yet youre afraid each thing I do is just some evil scheme
A memory from your lonesome past keeps us so far apart
Why cant I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold cold heart

There was a time when I believed that you belonged to me
But now I know your heart is shackled to a memory
The more I learn to care for you,the more we drift apart
Why cant I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold cold heart

This is a neat little song by Elvis that was later included in the Taking Liberties. Another version appears on Get Happy. I like the one on Get Happy, but this one is my preference. I think the song works better in a stripped-down, country tinged version. I also think the lyrics work better at the slower pace.

For this particular recording, Elvis chose to play all of the instruments himself–at the time, according to him(info courtesy of Elviscostello.info):

I had this idea of recording songs that didn’t have a beat in them at all, that were just a conglomeration of instruments that weren’t played with the usual techniques. That’s why I played all the instruments myself, basically. They weren’t songs you could really play with a group. They were just like pictures, doodles.

He says he was inspired to write the song by watching old movies, in particular Ball of Fire with Barbara Stanwyck. It’s certainly got the nostalgic tone down; one gets the feeling of a fan who’s had a crush on a particular actress for years only to find that she’s no longer the pristine beauty she once was.

I was surprised to find a fan video on YouTube, but here you go

And of course, the lyrics:

I was looking at the black and white world
It seemed so exciting
If you’d only put me back to back with that girl
When the night’s inviting
With just a little lighting
There’ll never be days like that again
When I was just a boy and men were men
You never go from moment to moment
You’re the living double of a single fiction
You’re very colourful with your compliments
As you feel the finger’s friction
It’s a freeze-frame
Still it’s real life
You don’t want to look
Cause you’ve seen the film and you’ve read the book

I was looking at the black and white world
Trying to name some pin-up
Those days she was just a beautiful girl
Now she’s framed and hung up
I thought she was young
Up until I saw her last night in close detail
Though they all fade away when you’re so pale
It’s more than just a physical attraction
It starts with a face and ends up a fixation
But you’re never gonna feel a fraction
Of the way it used to work on your imagination
When you were looking at the black and white world…

Delia’s Gone was one of the first singles from Cash’s brilliant “comeback” (no, he hadn’t gone anywhere) album, American Recordings. It was not unusual for Cash to perform a song about killing someone and regretting it later, but what really makes this one stand out is that he delivers the dark lyrics with a certain sly humor that really takes the edge off. One might even forgive the protagonist by the end of the song, as the titular lass is not presented in a sympathetic light. This particular song was written by Karl Silbersdorf and Dick Toops.

Here’s a link to the video

And of course the lyrics:

Delia, oh, Delia Delia all my life
If I hadn’t have shot poor
Delia I’d have had her for my wife
Delia’s gone, one more round Delia’s gone

So if you woman’s devilish
You can let her run
Or you can bring her down and do her
Like Delia got done
Delia’s gone, one more round Delia’s gone

For my inaugural post on this new blog, I’d like to talk about Elvis Costello’s version of Leon Payne’s Psycho.

This is an interesting song, and I understand it’s been heavily covered. I first heard this version in the 80’s. The song is apparently about a true story of a psycho killer who shot a bunch of people and a puppy before killing himself. From elvis-costello.info:

“Psycho is based on a series killings in 1966 by a 25-year-old University of Texas graduate student, Charles Whitman, who went berserk with a rifle, killing 20 people & injuring another 28 including his ex-wife, her new boyfriend, some small chilren & a puppy. The murderer’s conversation throughout the song (”You think I’m psycho, dincha, Mama?”) draws on the fact that Whitman knew he was going out of his mind, tried to get help and left a death note asking for an autopsy which he hoped would absolve him of blame by proving he was mad.” - from UK magazine ‘Q’ (Aug-95).

It’s a very haunting song. EC delivers it quietly: in fact you can barely hear him or the instrumentation in the background, making for a stirring, jarring recitation. In my opinion, Costello is one of the better cover artists out there for interpretation, and this particular cover creates a spooky mood. It was originally recorded as a B-side for Sweet Dreams from his album of country covers, Almost Blue.

Here are the lyrics, once again courtesy of Elviscostello.info:

Can Mary fry some fish, mama?

I’m as hungry as can be

Oh lord, how I wish, mama

You could stop the baby crying

‘Cause my head is killing me

I saw my ex again last night, mama

She was at the dance at Miller’s store

She was with that Jackie White, mama

I killed them both and they’re buried under Jacob’s sycamore

You think I’m psycho, don’t you, mama?

I didn’t mean to break your cup

You think I’m psycho, don’t you, mama?

You better let ‘em lock me up

Oh, don’t hand me Johnny’s pup, mama

‘Cause I might squeeze him too tight

I’m havin’ crazy dreams again, mama

So let me tell you ’bout last night

I woke up in Johnny’s room, mama

Standing right there by his bed

With my hands around his throat, mama

Wishing both of us were dead

You think I’m psycho, don’t you, mama?

I just killed Johnny’s pup

You think I’m psycho, don’t you, mama?

You’d better let ‘em lock me up

Oh you recall that little girl, mama

I believe her name was Betty Clark

Oh don’t tell me that she’s dead, mama

‘Cause I just saw her in the park

We were sitting on a bench. mama

Thinking up a game to play

Seems I was holding a wrench. mama

And then my mind just walked away

You think I’m psycho, don’t you, mama?

I didn’t mean to break your cup

You think I’m psycho, don’t you, mama?

Mama, why don’t you get up?