Oh What A Friend We Have

Y'know, if I'm gonna write about these songs I've written, I suppose I ought to give you some idea of what they sound like...

So: for all that I hate roadhouse-style blues, I've written a pretty good one in this song. The chord progression on the riff is basically the same as "Werewolves Of London," but it actually starts on the tonic—so it's I-VII-IV-IV, with a bassline that's a kissing cousin to "My City Was Gone." (It sounds horrible and derivative described in those terms, but it's shit-hot in practice.) You do that for six bars, then a two-bar turnaround of VII-IV, two bars chugging on the V, and a two-bar tacit on the tonic.

The introduction I used at Jitters went something like this...

First time I played this song I was down a church basement. I used to do a lot of open mic nights—y'all know what an open mic is, yeah? It's a sort of a self-esteem workshop for musicians. You're in this little space, like a church basement, and you're playing for an audience composed exclusively of other musicians. Everybody gets ten minutes, and as each person plays, you're sitting there thinking, 'Hell, I'm better than him..." That's where the self-esteem comes into it, see.

So I'm down this church basement, and things are kind of dull, and I get up and I start singing this song. And the guy running the thing, he cuts me off in mid-song. I sez,"What's going on?" He sez, "You idiot—this is an A.A. meeting."

Oh. Well.

So I start to play another song, and the guy sez, "What the hell d'you think you're doing?" And I sez, "Hey, my ten minutes aren't up yet..."

Purple Jesus

Welcome to the show boy
Here it's service not a smile
The tips ain't much but the volume's gonna
make it worth your while
The least expensive liquor
and domestic beer on tap
Let me show you 'round behind the bar
Some things ain't on the map
Keep it on the highest shelf
in a rusty Mason jar
so pour me a Purple Jesus boy
and step up to the bar

I been tending bar for thirty years
To me it's all the same
Guys telling me their problems
and I can't recall their names
I've learned the value of a buck
and where the money goes
How else do you think I got all these
blossoms on my nose?
Now do these shaking hands a favor
reach up on the shelf
and pour me a Purple Jesus boy
and one more for yourself

Purple Jesus, Purple Jesus
Won't you save my soul
Won't you save my soul
Won't you save my soul

With all the folks I see here
and the people that I meet
not one of them would know me
if they passed me on the street
Behind this bar from noon
until the sun begins to rise
with stains all down my apron
and blood in my eyes
And I ain't got time for family
and all that other stuff
Now pour me a Purple Jesus
I'm not dying fast enough

Pure-D juke-joint stompology. Went down a storm, I'll tell you.