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Moments In Love #22
Ruf Dug & Jack Doepel / TV Sky
The Blue Nile / Easter Parade
Anna Domino / Land Of My Dreams
Dean & Britta / It Don’t Rain in Beverley Hills
David Sylvian / Taking The Veil
John Martyn / Sapphire
China Crisis / African And White (Home Demo 1979)
The Bernhardts / Send Your Love To Me
Ryuichi Sakamoto & Robin Scott / The Left Bank
Orlando Weeks / Way To Go
The Pale Fountains / Unless
Lloyd Cole & The Commotions / Big Snake
Dominique Dumont ‘Quand’ (2018)
Suzanne Menzel ‘On The Corner Of July’ (1981)
Ypsilanti (c) 2018 Don Nelson by Don Nelson 1 Here’s a new one I just wrote and recorded this week. Odd subject matter, but this song is loosely based on a book that came out in the 60’s called “The Three Christs of Ypsilanti” – a non-fiction account of 3 mental patients who all suffered from the same delusion – each one thought that he was Jesus Christ – and (rather cruelly the doctors later admitted) they were housed in the same Psych Unit in Ypsilanti, Michigan, and their reactions to and interactions with each other were studied. I had the phrase “Exiled psycho Messiahs” and sort of extrapolated from there. Once I realized I could rhyme Ypsilanti with “Chianti” it got easy to write the rest of it! A silly and somewhat sad song but I like it and hope you do too! Ypsilanti © 2018 Don Nelson All the exiled psycho Messiahs They never will repent As they stare down their holy rivals With pity and contempt And sometimes they erupt in anger And sometimes they begin to weep Sometimes they laugh and grin And then promptly fall asleep In those wicker chairs at the psych ward In Ypsilanti Where they change their scummy bath water Into gallons of sweet Chianti Blessed are the few who understand That things are not the way they seem And blessed are those who get left behind In their cracked and crooked dreams They line their pills up in paper cups They are not allowed to pass over Or the Pharisee Orderlies will bind them up And pin them under blankets and covers Sometimes a stranger visits Maybe just to get their blessing But maybe it’s the Devil in disguise He always keeps them guessing They lie in their beds while the moon sets over Ypsilanti They pretend to be dead until the staff goes home It’s their favorite modus operandi Blessed are the few who understand That nothing ever is how it seems And blessed are those who can hide inside Their cracked and crooked dreams In the morning they cast their shrouds away And they roll away the stone While Mary waits outside in a white frock But she never takes them home As they dip their broken burnt toast Into their Constant Comment Tea They say “when you do this at home with the Holy Ghost Remember me” And the bells are pealing wildly in the streets Of Ypsilanti And the Messiahs have all ascended to the rooftop Trailing clouds of Glory Blessed are the few who understand That nothing is the way it seems And blessed are those who finally rise above Their cracked and crooked dreams
She Built a Time Machine (c) 2018 Don Nelson by Don Nelson 1 More clearing out of half-baked projects from my laptop… one more down! This one seemed fitting for New Years – it is a re-recording of a goofy song I wrote a few years back – about a woman scientist in Oregon who builds a time machine – funded by drug dealers… it was probably more fun to create than it will be to listen to – but I DID have fun messing around with it – and hope you enjoy it too. She Built a Time Machine © 2018 by Don Nelson It was a shooting star blazing through the air Strapped to the back of a rocket chair Funded by anonymous billionaires - She built a time machine! A beam of light from a cyclotron Stirring up them bosons and fermions In that secret lab up in Oregon - She built a time machine! She got her ideas wherever she could find them Freeman Dyson & Richard Feynman Benoit Mandelbrot & Stephen Hawking (She liked how his computer got to do all the talking…) She had a few conundrums – she had some doubts But then one day she finally figured it out Once she had all her ducks lined up right She was ready to go and build a prototype It was a hot knife cutting through the butter of time Leaving space and this place behind She wasn’t really sure just what she’d find but - She built a time machine! Everybody said that it couldn’t be done Nobody had a clue what was going on When she threw that switch she was good and gone - She built a time machine! She showed her designs to some cats she knew They had a lot of spare cash from all the grass they grew Showed them her blueprints – laid out all her plans And even though they didn’t quite understand… Once some of the dealers got hip to her compendium She got a shipping container stuffed with Benjamin’s She bought some gold foil for the reactor’s interior And 3 or 4 pounds of fissionable material… It was a shooting star blazing through the air… It took a little time to get everything right But finally one night she got the green “go” light She jumped right aboard – threw the reactor in gear And that’s when everything started to disappear… She thought she had set it for the Cretaceous Zone But the handle got stuck and something went wrong She wound up heading back before any time at all “Absolute Elsewhere” - I think that’s what it’s called It was a hot knife cutting through the butter of time… She saw space and time fold back on itself There was nothing else there – nobody else It wasn’t very pretty – it wasn’t much fun When the stars started going out one by one She wanted to scream - she wanted to shout! Everything was turning inside out! But then the engine seized up - the reactor shut down She wound up back in her lab in good old Beaverton… It was a shooting star blazing through the air…