Vagabond
a Bootleg/Basement album
Ted Unseth
Singer/Songwriter
1967-1973
The late ‘60’s-early ‘70’s. It’s hard to imagine, nowadays,
how I managed to survive back then—if I had a job at all
it was always part-time; and there were times when I was
simply a vagabond with no job but a guitar and a voice
and a bunch of musical ideas in my head. No, make that
heart, moreso—I never ‘planned’ my music, it just rather
spilled out from an urging within. There are those who
will testify that I lived in their homes but didn’t pay rent and
they didn’t mind because I sang/created music
‘for my supper’ and that was somehow enough. Suffice
it to say the Times were very different back then; and I’m
grateful I was allowed opportunities for unfettered
music exploration and creation during those years. In a
particular way, those were Golden Years. This music is
from that Time.
Stylistically noteworthy: 1. a lot of ‘high voice’ and falsetto
singing—that range is completely gone now; 2. an
interesting sense of ‘rubato’ time—slowing down &
speeding up for dramatic effect.
01. Jimmy Brown the Newsboy
(A.P. Carter)
The version I patterned this after was the classic by Lester
Flatt and Earl Scruggs. This was a rare occasion whereby
I was able to borrow a neighbor’s 4-track stereo reel-to-reel
recorder and double-track the guitar (lead & accomp.) and
the voice (not always in perfect sync but to nice effect).
I sell the mornin’ paper, sir
My name is Jimmy Brown.
Everybody knows that I’m
The newsboy of the town.
You can hear me yellin’ "Mornin’ Star"
Runnin’ along the street.
Got no hat upon my head
No shoes upon my feet.
Never mind sir "How?" You don’t
Look at me and frown. (I)
Sell the mornin’ paper, sir,
My name is Jimmy Brown.
I’m awful cold and hungry, sir,
My blood is mighty thin. (I)
Wander ‘bout from place to place
My daily bread to win.
My father died a drunkard, sir,
I heared my mother say.
I am helping mother, sir,
To journey on my way.
My mother always telled me, sir,
"Nothin’ in the world to do [lose]."
I’ll get a place in Heaven, sir,
To sell the Gospel News.
02. The Dust Rag
One of several original guitar instrumentals.
Some ‘riffs’ will sound familiar/derivative,
but,overall, I think it’s unique in construction.
03. Ramblin’ Boy
(Tom Paxton)
Hobo. Vagabond. Not a lifestyle many would
consciously choose, but some still do. During
the Great Depression it was unavoidable for
plenty of folks out of work. Hopping freight
trains to and fro, running from the ‘bulls’ (rail-
road cops), knocking on doors for handouts—
some of it became stuff of legends and there
was an unspoken Code of Ethics that prevailed.
Tom Paxton did a great job of capsulizing
a strong friendship in such a milieu.
I knew a kid once who hopped a train from
Minneapolis to New Orleans and back again
"just to do it." A free spirit, right? Nowadays,
he’s a dizzyingly successful ad-man—go figure.
He was a pal and a friend always
We rambled ‘round in the hard ol' days
He never cared if I had no dough
We rambled ‘round in the rain and snow
Ch.: So here's to you my ramblin' boy
May all your rambles bring you joy
So here's to you my ramblin' boy
May all your rambles bring you joy
In Tulsa town we chanced to stray
We thought we'd try to work one day
The boss says he had room for one
Says my old pal "We'd rather bum."
Late one night in a jungle camp
The weather was cold and it was damp
He got the chills and he got them bad
They took the only friend I ever had
He left me here to ramble on
My ramblin' pal is dead and gone
If when we die we go somewhere
I'll bet you a dollar he's ramblin' there.
04. Over The Ocean
A good friend (a "best friend for Life") was about
to embark on a visit to Europe for the first time.
She stopped by my apartment just before she left
and I sang this to her as a going-away gift.
Over the ocean
Comrade of mine she'll be
Casting the shadow (of) good company.
One thought I wish her:
That she take my love there, too.
I am her Brother: "Think of me when you do."
05. Everybody’s Talkin’
Most but not all of my guitar work was acoustic. I
experimented with different ‘settings’ on guitars
and amps, too. This track has me in a "fuzz-tone"
guitar mode, almost rock n’ roll. The lyrics are
an attempt at satirizing opportunism and advice-
givers.
Everybody’s talkin’ ‘bout the time when everybody else
Believed that everybody talked about time.
Standing on the faces of a million different places, they’re
Holding the line on spending.
Well, even if the chances for the living of the future had a
Name and everybody would know,
Chances don’t build Economy.
Only if I thought that putting feelings into words was worth
the effort would I do such a thing.
Surely if I say it then you’ll have a chance to weigh it for the
Pros and the Commies.
So let me tell you all the things that structure my mouth;
Maybe you could read me my book.
06. Ethers
This is about as ‘cosmic’ as I ever got/ever will get.
It employs an unusual guitar-tuning whereby the 2nd
and 3rd strings are the same pitch.
07. The River Crossed Its Heart Off
I used an ‘open D’ tuning for this on the guitar.
These are some of the best lyrics I’ve ever written.
The river crossed its heart off today.
The flowers in the park are undecided.
My ears have told me I shouldn't stay.
The dog is pointing down saying that's what I did.
If only I could leave the city
And know that everything would be all right if I return to my home:
I just don't know.
I'm sleeping every night in the tree
But the motors of the mad are eternal.
I've even tried to down-on-one-knee
But the problem is not only internal.
If only I could leave the city
And know that I could love the land enough to live a life all alone:
I just don't know.
08. The Bender
This has nothing to do with alcohol., just bending
strings on an electric guitar (much more malleable
than acoustic). A couple of years ago, a ‘genius’ friend
sent me a CD of one tune that he eked out from memory
and asked if it was my composition—yes, it was this one
and he had everything virtually note-for-note correct.
He remembered it from 30+ years ago. What I
wouldn’t give for a photographic memory like that!
09. The Medium Rag
Another guitar instrumental. A bit more complex than
most ‘rags’, I’d say. The guitar strings sound and felt
like metal rubber bands, but it’s all there.
10. Don’tcha Know Why?
Another tongue-in-cheek piece aimed at unsolicited
advice-givers. I won’t mention any names...
Don’tcha know why I’ve been livin’ here?
When you go by don’t you think it’s so queer.
I know, you know more than me.
Even so, please let me be me.
Don’tcha know why I’ve been diggin’ for coal?
Let me be the judge of my own soul.
I know, you’ve done all you can.
Even so, let me be me-I own man.
Don’tcha have a thing you wanna do?
Go away, you make me nervous, too.
I know, you’ve done all you can to make me see the way.
Even so, let’s call it a day.
Don’tcha know why I’ve been livin’ this way?
Can’t I comb my hair another day?
I know, you’ve been readin’ a lot of books that tell you what taboo.
Even so, get outta my house or this is what I’ll do.
11. Kjaerlighet (Beloved)
Ah, fantasy! I don’t know why, but it seemed perfectly
logical for me to imagine being a Norwegian boy with
a crush on a Norwegian girl and singing her a love song
in falsetto voce. When I composed the piece, I’d only just
learned a few Norwegian phrases from a Norwegian hobo
in Loring Park, Mpls. I wasn’t sure of the spelling and/or
meanings exactly, but the sentiment got expressed just fine.
Many years later, I re-worked the song for my parents’
50th Anniversary and consulted with a real (undrunk)
Norwegian to write more ‘tamed-down’, makes-sense lyrics.
These work fine here, though.
Jeg er ikke sa dom som i serut
Jeg er ikke sa dom som i serut
Fannte kjering, du. Du er fannte kjering, du.
Jeg skulle ha du. Hmm…… Ah……..
I mannei
(I’m not as dumb as I look
I’m not as dumb as I look
Helluva woman, you. You’re one helluva woman, you are.
I shall have you Hmm…… Ah……..
I’m sure)
12. Don’t Let It Worry You
This is a fictional tune from the perspective
of a responsible, ‘normal’ brother to his
wilder, less responsible sibling. Truth
be told, it’s borderline autobiographical, too.
I’ve always felt obliged to ‘follow my heart’
and go wherever that takes me; but also
guilty that I’ve been less of a family member
than I perhaps should have been. I think
my family forgave me for being an oddball
a long time ago, so it’s all OK in the end—
they’ve given me wonderful support over
the years and I give them Music.
A pretty little town in the middle of the wood
with a world that shines so bright.
They’re simple little folk like you and me
and they never ever seem to fight.
But they don’t seem to understand
why your heart is in a different land.
Well, don’t let it worry you,
you loved them as much as you could.
They never had a chance to take the time
to talk with you too long.
They were busy with the store and they should’ve said more.
To be sure they weren’t very strong.
They wanted you to be a man
in a way that you never can.
Well, don’t let it worry you,
you love them as much as you should.
They sent their money and they sent their food
and they sent their precious love.
They even sent you pictures of the girls upstairs—
every hand that fit the glove.
But how could you ever care
about the people there?
You didn’t let it worry you,
you’d love them as much as you could.
You tell me their narrow-mindedness
has driven you away.
It’s better to have lost the love back then
than to lose the mind today.
Well, it’s not over yet, my friend.
The beginning is not the end.
No, don’t let it worry you,
just love them as much as you should.
I know you haven’t time for friends
who keep crawlin’ up and down your back.
And I’m sorry it I fail to see your world
but your vision is what I lack.
My love for you, my friend,
and for them—it has no end.
So, don’t let it worry you,
just love us as much as you can.
13. Redskin Lament
I had the "impish audacity" (a favorite phrase)
to put myself in the shoes of Native American
Indians. What did I know about ‘Indians’? Well,
they were here first; and ‘we’ (whites) took over
pretty much everything. The ones I saw in real
Life back then were mainly wineos asking for
spare change in Loring Park--not exactly your
‘noble savage’; but I also saw great sadness.
This is my back-then ‘take’on the situation.
White:
: "Close your eyes and count to 21.
Fold your hands, pretend you're anyone.
But, don't look at yourself; it's a little bit too bizarre
To believe that you'd want to know who you really are.
Try to forget about your heritage.
Face the facts: your future's in our hands now.
I'd really like to help but, you see, there's a war on now.
Come back when the war is over and we'll show you how."
Beloved Uncle Sam, what have you done?
You stripped the Redman naked in the sun.
Yes you did, umhmm.
Red:
"What about your million promises?
Have you no shame for what you've done to us?
We tried to believe that even you possess a heart.
Maybe that's the reason why we have no home.
You give me your city and your factory.
I work for you--you turn your back to me.
The only thing that's left is the swirling in my head
From the booze that helps me forget that my heart is dead."
Beloved Uncle Sam, what have you done?
You left no hope--not even for the young.
Yes you did, unhunh. Hmm. Hmm. Hmm.
Oh, Father, my dear Father,
I’m your one and only son.
But my gut is in my mouth, now
When I see what you have done.
14. Can’t You Keep It In Your Heart?
(Ed Beaty, 2nd guitar)
Some nice fingerpicking. Just for fun.
Can’t you keep it in your heart?
Why do people fall apart?
Isn’t it fine to find
A hundred hours of Art?
Can’t you feel it in your bones?
Why are people throwing stones?
Isn’t it fine to find
A hundred Dorothy Malones?
Can’t you see it in your soul?
Why do peoples’ hearts have holes?
Isn’t it fine to find
A hundred parts to the whole?
15. She Will Be My Friend Forever
This one is perhaps the most curious. The lyrics are
dripping with sentiment from a bygone era, The
Romantic. Also throw in the concept of the authentic
Troubador (they never requited) and this something
of a modern version of that. Perhaps, too, it’s a bit like a
traditional Scottish Tragi-ballad. The topic is Selfless Love.
At the time, it was all quite real and very intense. And
the conclusion reached from it is valid to this day:
It’s better to have a Dear Friend than to not have a
Desired Lover.
All that Life could be is dying.
My trembling hands torment me night and day.
Only yesterday, I'm crying.
I sit alone. My heart has turned to clay.
I've betrayed my love for Woman.
My eyes have killed the faith she never had.
I've been dubbed The One Mistaken Lover.
She lost my heart the day I thought of me.
She will be my friend forever,
No more, no less-this I just now have seen.
And now I find I am stronger.
I fear no(t) Death/my sacrifices/me.
16. It’s Only The Girlcats
I once lived on the first floor of a duplex house in
Minneapolis and the guy upstairs knew I was an
‘animal person’ (I had two dogs) and he was moving
to a place where he couldn’t have animals and would
I take his cat? Sure. A longhair Persian male named
Everett who had two distinctive characteristics: 1. He
hated being touched—any time, ever; and 2. He had
‘animal magnetism’ up the wazoo. Which is to say
[note: these were days when I was very irresponsible
when it came to letting my animals roam wherever
they pleased] Everett would go ‘out’ once in awhile
and not come back for awhile and then I’d see female
cats bringing dead mice and birds to the kitchen door
as gifts to Everett!
[I, of course, am now a responsible person when it
comes to these matters.]
Oh, it's only the Girlcat what catches the mice
Cuz the Guycats stay home and get fat.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ted Unseth
TedEBoy Productions
Minneapolis, MN
tedeboy@att.net
http://tedeboy.net
Copyright 2006 © Ted Unseth
