Laker Music lyrics and liner notes Waking Hour

Click here to order a copy of Waking Hour out on Jericho Beach Music in Canada and Red House Records in the US Liner notes and Lyrics I took a trip south to Nashville, Tennessee, to record this album with my good friends Kieran Kane, Kevin Welch and Fats Kaplin. We had talked of recording together for quite some time. When it finally came together over five days in September of 2003 it was a meeting of the minds and I thank the boys for lending their spirit, talents and humour to the songs. David Francey ...to try and write a line or two about how I feel about Francey and this record would be impossible...it would get all syrupy and sweet and adoring and … and ... and..... so I won't try... maybe just thanks pal for having me along.... Kieran Kane Gentlemen (you too Kieran!) it was a true pleasure. I couldn't ask for anything better than this. Kevin Welch The four of us sit in a tight circle, lights dimmed, whiskey bottle open. "What should I play on this one Dave?" "I don't know, banjo?" "Sounds fine to me." And so it goes into the night. Fats Kaplin The Waking Hour In love, the hour of realization and reckoning during a period of silence and doubt. (May 31, 2000. Ayers Cliff, Quebec) I wake to the radio morning news Just as the day is dawning And I watch from the window while a passing cloud Dulls the hopeful morning And I wonder will the girl I love Come back with the morning But the omen crow at the waking hour Has given me fair warning And the heart that's breaking Never makes a sound She was once my heart's delight My need and my desire She was my day, she was my night My water and my fire And I was once the same to her When we still walked together But the heavy heart at the waking hour's Expecting heavy weather And the heart that's breaking Never makes a sound I know love I've seen love's face I understand its sorrow For every love I've ever had Has always met tomorrow Though I am Wednesday's child of woe I try not to be ungrateful But I was born at midnight black With a heart that can be hateful And the heart that's breaking Never makes a sound And the heart that's breaking Never makes a sound And the heart that's breaking Never makes a sound Lead Vocal: David Francey Guitar, Percussion, Backing Vocal: Kieran Kane Guitar: Kevin Welch Mandolin: Fats Kaplin Highway 95 This is the interstate that runs down the east coast of America. It's not so much a journey into the heart of the country as a trip under the skin. (February 3rd, 2002. Jacksonville, Florida.) Three crosses in a copse of trees A long way from Calvary Kiltered in the southern breeze In Northern Carolina Words of God are advertised High above in an empty sky I feel sad and I don't know why In Northern Carolina Driving down the 95 Left winter far behind And it might rain but I don't mind 'Cause I've got the window down Woman in the Welcome House She's a flower of the South Words are jewels in her mouth In Northern Carolina Had the Southland on my mind Crossed the Mason-Dixon Line I'm a long way from my kind In Northern Carolina Driving down the 95 Left winter far behind And it might rain but I don't mind 'Cause I've got the window down Three crosses in a copse of trees A long way from Calvary Kiltered in the Southern breeze In Northern Carolina Lead Vocal: David Francey Bouzouki: Kieran Kane Guitar, Cell Phone: Kevin Welch Fiddle: Fats Kaplin Ankle Tattoo One of the constants of life is the cast of characters that find themselves at the bus station. I numbered among the many at the depot in Montreal, where this song was written. (August 13, 2003. Montreal, Quebec.) I was at the bus station That terminal place With the rest of the desperate Who've fallen from grace Where eyes are averted Where other eyes stare Man talking to somebody Nobody's there The terminal cases They're impossibly young An old man is asking If I've seen his son The cops do a walk through Bottles slip into bags And the beggar boy Standing there Hanging in rags Nothing much changes Just the passing of time And the faces that wait here At the end of the line And the eyes, they get raised To the blue of the screen To the coming and going Of men and machines And I think very likely The departure of dreams The arrival of the midnight hour There's a girl with her legs crossed Got an ankle tattoo It's an ugly reminder In four shades of blue And the bad boys, the rude boys They're into the game And they keep their eyes open For the halt and the lame Nothing much changes Just the passing of time And the faces that wait here At the end of the line Lead Vocal: David Francey Guitar, Backing Vocal: Kieran Kane Guitar: Kevin Welch Mandolin: Fats Kaplin Morning Train I started this song at the train station in Tønder, Denmark. I thought that the messages from all the gods would be the same. (September 2, 2003. Ans, Denmark) I met Jesus in the morning He was waiting for a train He said He thought it might be time To come down and explain How wrong it was to do some things And do them in His name He said, "After all, everybody's Riding on this train" I met Buddha on the subway On the subway underground Saw his smile slowly fade I saw him look around He said He wished we'd understand And do so in His name He said, "After all, everybody's Riding on this train" Met Allah on the El train Above the city streets We rattled down the railway line And we looked down on the meek He said He wondered why it was Some never feel the pain He said, "After all, everybody's Riding on this train" I saw the Devil standing At the station in the rain He had a smile upon his face Self-satisfied and vain Said, "Heaven is its own reward I don't have to explain" He said, "After all, everybody's Riding on this train" Lead Vocal: David Francey Guitar: Kieran Kane Guitar, Shaker: Kevin Welch Dobro: Fats Kaplin Wishing Well What I remember of the media circus surrounding the execution of the Oklahoma Bomber, Timothy McVeigh. Insult added to injury, misery as entertainment. I remember thinking "He's wishing he was anywhere else than where he is right now." (June 11, 2001. Ayers Cliff, Quebec) On the morning news that brought me round They put the Oklahoma bomber down He might serve in heaven, might burn in hell But he's no more wishes at the wishing well I should feel compassion, I know I should I don't know if his dying does any good He was good as gone when the building fell When they ran out of wishes at the wishing well Lying on his back, eyes open wide And the prick of the needle and the silent slide The Press lined up, with their stories to tell How there's no more wishes at the wishing well Today I rattled around this town Hands in my pockets, eyes cast down And the air as still as the steeple bell It was dry as a bone at the wishing well The thunderheads tower over the town I'll be warm and dry, when the sky falls down And we might get lucky but you never can tell It was dry as a bone at the wishing well On the morning news that brought me 'round They put the Oklahoma bomber down Lead Vocal: David Francey Guitar, Percussion, Backing Vocal: Kieran Kane Guitar: Kevin Welch Banjo: Fats Kaplin Ashtabula A small picture of an Ohio coal port on the south shore of Lake Erie. I wrote it at Kelli O'Neill's cottage in Madison. (June 15, 2003. Madison, Ohio) Kelli drove us down the lake On a bright Ohio day And we looked across the railway yards At the hoppers painted grey That coal train from Kentucky, man She's come a long long way Down in Ashtabula On a sunny summer's day Walked down to the harbour Down to the harbour side Where the coal was piled up waiting High and black and wide And it's waiting for a laker, man To carry it away Down in Ashtabula On a sunny summer's day And the tilting bridge Itself swings back And sail is given way And the cobbled streets That climb the hills Are fading red to grey In the maritime museum So high above the waves The pictures of the past recalled In black and white and grey But the Masters and the ships are gone Long since passed away Down in Ashtabula On a sunny summers day Lead Vocal: David Francey Bouzouki, Percussion, Backing Vocal: Kieran Kane Guitar: Kevin Welch Accordion: Fats Kaplin Tonight in My Dreams When I wrote this song I could picture Beth dancing around the kitchen to it. (June, 1994. Ayers Cliff, Quebec) Tell me baby would it be alright Would it be alright If I saw you tonight If I saw you tonight Saw you tonight In my dreams Tell me baby would it be okay We can get back home By the break of day If I saw you tonight Saw you tonight In my dreams I ain't no liar We can get higher Than Heaven above I'm telling you Baby it's true This must be love We could go out, carrying on Just dancing 'til dawn With the radio on If I saw you tonight Saw you tonight In my dreams We could be dancing To a radio tune I'll kiss you all night By the light of the moon If I saw you tonight Saw you tonight In my dreams I ain't no liar We can get higher Than heaven above I'm telling you Baby it's true This must be love Tell me baby would it be alright Would it be alright If I saw you tonight If I saw you tonight Saw you tonight In my dreams Lead Vocal: David Francey Guitar, Backing Vocal: Kieran Kane Guitar: Kevin Welch Fiddle: Fats Kaplin Over You When you take a step back from love to see where you are standing. I did that, but I never did get over Beth, as it turns out. (May 29, 2003. Ayers Cliff, Quebec) Well I saw myself once As clear as day Took a look in the mirror And I turned away And it left me wondering What I'm gonna do If I can't, if I can't get If I can't get over you And the sound of the siren Through the window wide The moan of the city In the dark outside And it might be over But it won't be true If I can't, if I can't get If I can't get over you And the room that you gain Is more emptiness And the sound of the rain On the window glass And the clock on the wall Says ten to two And I can't, and I can't get And I can't get over you Lead Vocal: David Francey Bouzouki, Guitar Slap: Kieran Kane Guitar, Backing Vocal: Kevin Welch Mandolin: Fats Kaplin Fourth of July We were in Madison, Ohio, on the first anniversary of the events of September 11th, 2001. It was all flags and bunting, a nation dealing with its sorrow in part through a display of patriotism, and a government seeing an opportunity to take advantage of it all. Written at Peter and Nancy Clark's house in Oak Park, Illinois. (September 27, 2002. Chicago, Illinois) I returned to the States one year after The towers returned to the earth And the sabers were drawn from their scabbards They were rattling for all they were worth And I understand how that could happen I don't need to ask anyone why It's September and I can't help but think that It looks like the Fourth of July Down on the shores of Lake Erie They see the political slant The pursuit of their happiness promised By the stacks of the nuclear plant Now there's flags flying on every lamp post Red white and blue 'gainst the sky It's September and I can't help but think that It looks like the Fourth of July It's the powers that be pay the piper It's the powers that be call the tune They want all of us up for the dancing All howling away at the moon But my ear's to the ground and I'm listening I keep watch with a weather eye It's September and I can't help but think that It looks like the Fourth of July Lead Vocal: David Francey Guitar, Backing Vocal: Kieran Kane Guitar: Kevin Welch Mandolin: Fats Kaplin Just Wanna Be Loved A love song for Beth, written on the train between Kingston and Cobourg, Ontario. I was listening to a lot of Bluegrass music at the time. (July, 1989. Coburg, Ontario) Takin' the train to see my baby I don't know if I'm comin' back Coulda said yes, but I just said maybe Safest way on a slippery track And I just wanna be loved by someone I just wanna be loved Spent a long time standing on the shoulder Waitin' on that endless ride Started out young but I got a lot older Standing on that highway side And I just wanna be loved by someone I just wanna be loved You can spend a lifetime contemplating Wondering how you got that far Seems to me I'm always waitin' On nothin' but buses and trains and cars And I just wanna be loved by someone I just wanna be loved And I just wanna be loved by someone I just wanna be loved Lead Vocal: David Francey Percussion, Backing Vocal: Kieran Kane Guitar: Kevin Welch Harp: Fats Kaplin Badlands We descended from the verdant prairie, down into the Badlands around Drumheller, Alberta. I recognized much of myself in the landscape. Written at the house of Bill and Betty jo Werthmann, in Edmonton, Alberta. (August 1, 2001. Drumheller /Edmonton, Alberta) Here I am in my own Badlands Here I wait and here I stand Went searching for the distant past Found three red rocks and a piece of glass In my own Badlands In my own Badlands The redstone, ironstone scoured land Rock of ages in coloured bands And I climbed to the top, to the top of the hill If I hadn't come down I'd be climbing still In my own Badlands In my own Badlands And the Red Deer River runs muddy and brown Choked by the dust of the hills around And the sun in the sky standing still But the river's rolling and it always will Through my own Badlands Through my own Badlands You can count the layers of the past and gone You can smell the rain of the coming storm Inside my head is just the same It's cracked and dry and needing rain In my own Badlands In my own Badlands Here I am in my own Badlands Here I wait and here I stand And I feel abandoned, quite alone Dust and rock and skin and bone In my own Badlands In my own Badlands Lead Vocal: David Francey Bouzouki, Backing Vocal: Kieran Kane Fiddle, Banjo: Fats Kaplin Sunday Morning The first song I wrote in Elphin, Ontario, where we now live. I so often feel disconnected from where I am at any given moment. Never when driving, however. (September 10, 2003. Elphin, Ontario) He walked on the water I walk on the ground He went up to heaven And I'm still coming down It's a long way, a long way A long way from Saturday night It's coming Sunday morning I'm a long way from feeling alright In the cold light of morning In the cold light of day In the cold light of reason Got nothing much to say And I'm a long way, a long way A long way from Saturday night It's coming Sunday morning I'm a long way from feeling alright I'm so far away from wherever I am I'm so far away from wherever I am I woke up Sunday morning Saw the shining silver spire Rise above the highest tree That Cross rose even higher I'm a long way, a long way A long way from Saturday night It's coming Sunday morning I'm a long way from feeling alright Lead Vocal: David Francey Guitar, Tambourine: Kieran Kane Guitar, Backing Vocal: Kevin Welch Mandolin: Fats Kaplin Gone I wanted to impart some words of comfort to a friend who had been left behind by love. I couldn't think of what to say, so I wrote this song. (April 30, 2003. Ayers Cliff, Quebec) Look at the sky So blue today Well you'd never know That he walked away Look at that cloud It's the sole one there In the endless sky In the empty air Don't you worry Don't you cry, 'Cause the world will love you By and by That's what it's like To live in town When it comes apart But it all comes 'round And the world will turn Around again And bring the sun And bring the rain It's funny how It carries on, Before we're here And when we're gone That's what it's like To live in town When it comes apart But it all comes 'round Don't you worry Don't you cry 'Cause the world will love you By and by Look at the world It's so new today Well you'd never know That he walked away Lead Vocal: David Francey Bouzouki, Backing Vocal: Kieran Kane Guitar: Kevin Welch Guitar: Fats Kaplin Credits: The Musicians: David Francey: Vocals Kieran Kane: Guitar, bouzouki, mandolin, percussion, backing vocals Kevin Welch: Guitar, backing vocals, percussion Fats Kaplin: Guitar, fiddle, mandolin, slide guitar, harmonica, accordion, banjo Recording and Mixing Engineer: Philip Scoggins Mastering: Philip Scoggins Producer: David Francey Arrangements: David Francey, Kieran Kane, Kevin Welch, Fats Kaplin Recorded at: Moraine Studio, Nashville, Tennessee Design: Michael Wrycraft Photography: Beth Girdler and David Francey Art: David Francey Copy editor: Kate Murphy There are altogether too many people to thank at this juncture. I would no doubt forget someone that I wanted to mention, so I will thank you all for all your help and kindness and support. Special thanks to Nashville support crew, Kellen Brugman, Claudia Scott and Kristi Rose. Thanks to Philip Scoggins for his patience and expertise. To the musicians who played on this album, who made it such a joy. To Ian MacGregor, for his friendship and advice. To my wife, Beth Girdler, my heart's delight. I would like to dedicate this album to my mother and father, who have been a constant in my life. My father passed away on May 5th 2004. He was a kind and gentle man to the end. "Wi' sic as he, where e'er he be, May I be, saved or damned." Robert Burns Thank you all All songs, words and music by David Francey (SOCAN) back home