#steve goodman

[kdo-three]

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𝐀𝐫𝐥𝐨 𝐆𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐞 - 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐎𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 (𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟐) Steve Goodman from: "Hobo's Lullaby" (Album) "The City of New Orleans" / "Days are Short" (Single)

Folk | Country Folk | Proto-Americana

Tumblr (left click = play) (256kbps)

Personnel: Arlo Guthrie: Lead Vocals / Guitar Ry Cooder: Guitar Jim Dickinson: Keyboards Nick DeCaro: Accordion Chris Ethridge: Bass Max Bennett: Bass Jim Keltner: Drums

Backing Vocals: Clydie King Venetta Fields

Arrangement by Arlo Guthrie Produced by Lenny Waronker / John Pilla

Recorded: @ Amigo Studios in North Hollywood, California USA 1972

Album Released: April, 1972 Single Released: July, 1972 Reprise Records

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Arlo Guthrie's 1972 cover of Steve Goodman's "City of New Orleans" is widely considered a foundational or proto-Americana song. While it predates the official use of the term "Americana" in the 1990s, Guthrie's version of "City of New Orleans" embodies the genre's key characteristics by blending classic folk and country elements with narrative songwriting, American setting and imagery and a modern singer-songwriter sensibility. - Google AI

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[lew-basnight]

American do not want another superhero movie. Americans want a movie about John Prine and Steve Goodman playing folk music in Chicago in the 70s

[tonreihe]

“Hyperdub’s modus operandi is afrovorticist.”

Steve Goodman (aka Kode9) on hyperdub (i.e. dubstep).

[thegroovyarchives]

Steve Goodman, 1980. (via: Reddit)

[uncahier]

Everyone sleeps on this because the Cubs started being halfway decent, but this is the superior Steve Goodman Cubs song

[poetrex]

You see the preamble is part of the song,

& songwriting's easy. You just imagine what John Prine would say in this situation, throw some "Yeah babies" in there as needed to fit the scansion, & Steve Goodman's your uncle. Well, on the night of the hunter's moon I was an ant begging a cloud to stop the ocean-swelling space rock frying my brain like a very dim magnifying glass. & on my shoulder were two angels, & they spoke to one another but not to me, because... well, I wouldn't listen. You don't hate yourself, they said. You hate that the world is unfair, & that things are broken that can't be repaired, & bad things happen that can't be stopped—bad things that aren't yours or anyone's fault. You hate that the way you do anything is the way you do everything; you hate that it's never too late to change, & still—you haven't. & still, you sing. The preamble is part of the song. & on my back there were two giants, & I was crushed by their belief in me, for the angels spoke of wings, but only a friend's hand on my shoulder turned my face from the abyss. Still, I sing. Who am I without mouth or ears? Plagiarist of music no one hears. Still, the angels speak to one another, but... not to me.

[upperswampmonkey]

John Prine & Steve Goodman - You Never Even Call Me By My Name (1975) 

[cbjustmusic]

A video for Rhonda Vincent and the Rage's new recording of "The City of New Orleans". The little engineer in the video is Vincent's grandson. ______________________ The City of New Orleans Songwriter: Steve Goodman

Riding on the City of New Orleans Illinois Central, Monday morning rail 15 cars and 15 restless riders Three conductors, 25 sacks of mail

All along the southbound odyssey The train pulls out of Kankakee Rolls along past houses, farms, and fields Passing trains that have no name An' freight yards full of old black men And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles

Good morning, America, how are ya? Said don't you know me? I'm your native son I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done

Dealing card games with the old men in the club car Penny a point, ain't no one keeping score Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle Feel the wheels rumbling 'neath the floor

And the sons of Pullman porters And the sons of engineers Ride their fathers' magic carpets made of steel Mothers with their babes asleep Are rockin' to the gentle beat And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel

Good morning, America, how are ya? Said don't you know me? I'm your native son I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done

Nighttime on the City of New Orleans Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee Halfway home, we'll be there by morning Through the Mississippi darkness, rolling down to the sea

But all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream And the steel rail still ain't heard the news The conductor sings his songs again The passengers will please refrain This train got the disappearing railroad blues

Good night, America, how are you? Said don't you know me? I'm your native son I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done