One of the most rushed things I've ever contributed to the MM3AM, but I don't entirely hate it. With another draft or two, I might just turn this into a song.
The assignment made me think a little of Paul Simon, maybe a "Bookends" kind of thing. It was a "large" topic, so I wanted to contain it by thinking small. I've been thinking about XTC a lot lately, of course, and of Colin Moulding's Ray Davies-like penchant for writing small vignettes that reflect large resonances, while focusing on minutiae. I've also been in a continuing John Prine mode, as discussed last week, so there's a lot of that here, too.
I was looking for an angle on this aging thing, and one of the first thoughts to strike me was the thought that one thing that really bugs everyone is when someone younger than themselves complain about aging. So I set up a day-in-the-life situation between two characters of disparate ages, and I put them in a copy shop, for reasons that I didn't quite end up fully exploring, but that might come in future drafts.
I liked a few things about this, particularly the structure, in which you've got a chorus that's about waiting, for "a friend" that's not specified. Each verse reflects the character's irritation at having to wait for something without knowing when it's going to come: the repair guy, his paycheck, the money to go on a vacation. Of course, what the whole thing's really about is the Big D, death, but that's never specifically stated.
The recording is absolutely unadorned, a one-take, um, wonder. In fact, it was actually the first time I ever even played it all the way through. Seemed appropriate, somehow.
lyrics
Sam said, "Jones, what keeps you so damn skinny?"
Jones said, "well, I only drink red wine"
Sam thought, "it's the stupid rules'll kill me
If I ever cross the starting line"
Sam said, "don't go starting any big jobs
The Canon guy'll be here in a few
Don't it drive you crazy how they never seem to know
Exactly when they think they'll get to you."
We could wait here for an hour, we could wait here over night
We could wait until them Germans strike again
It's the thing that drives me crazy what makes my ulcers bleed
It's what'll put me in the loony bin
Waiting on a friend, waiting on a friend
Sam said, "god, I'm feeling like a cooked goose
Getting old is nothing but a scam"
Jones just rolled his eyes, shook his head, and walked away
Cause Jones had fifteen years on poor old Sam
Jones felt round the holes inside his pocket
Wondered if he's ever getting paid
Sam was late with checks again, Johnny wants his vig
Every Friday's like a hand grenade
We could wait here for an hour, we could wait here over night
We could wait until them Germans strike again
It's the thing that drives me crazy what makes my ulcers bleed
It's what'll put me in the loony bin
waiting on a friend, waiting on a friend
Sara's got that cancer in her liver
But they're all saying everything is good
But Jones was thinking maybe they should take that trip to Rome
If he could find the cash, they surely would
Been 40 years together, sometimes he don't even know
Exactly how she feels about him now
He supposes someday soon she'll get around to say it
Soon as she can figure out just how
We could wait here for an hour, we could wait here over night
We could wait until them Germans strike again
It's the thing that drives me crazy what makes my ulcers bleed
It's what'll put me in the loony bin
waiting on a friend, waiting on a friend
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