Scattered Riffs and Sacred Lines

* warning * salty language ahead

I was vibing on country.

Maybe old school, maybe Merle, maybe Hank.

Maybe Garth, Urban, Strait, maybe Shelton.

I honestly can’t remember.

Maybe Chesney, Waylon, Bryan or Hank.

They all have the goods, for real.

Might not be my first choice, default or go to music, but a good song is a good song.

Country does rock.

Country delivers.

Looking back now, most likely it was Cash.

That’s it.

Cash.

Johnny Cash.

The Man in Black.

“Folsom Prison Blues”.

“I Walk the Line”.

”Ring of Fire”.

I wanted a rebel, long black coat, “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash”, ultimate bad-ass, don’t-fuck-with-me, I ain’t your boy kind of song.

The lyrics flowed.

The chords were simple, primal, repetitive, punk-ish.

My band - 2BukkChukk - funked it, mystified it, dirtied it, sexed it, and dive-bar-ed it to a Cash-Zeppelin-Stones-Clash unholy union that required whiskey straight-up every time we played it.

I deeply love those guys - Roland, Mike, Tom, and Jack.

10+ years of making sounds that could have been on the airwaves.

Could have been.

Easily.

Wrong places, wrong times.

My comrade in arms Brett and I even brain-stormed a video for this song.

Over whiskey and cigars.

Lots of cigars.

Lots of whiskey.

Lots of long, black leather coat, desert, dusty boot imagery.

Brett undeniably gets me.

Gets the tune.

Video never got made.

Maybe soon, after a few more scars.

Sometimes lyrics are fictional.

Sometimes lyrics are autobiographical.

Sometimes there’s a nice blend.

“Best Tattoo” is unapologetically autobiographical. 

Scarred, frayed, tattooed.

Nothing imagined.

Everything true.

Best Tattoo.

Best Tattoo

I got people I got friends

Some shoot you down some stick around to the bitter end

I got bruises I got scars

Got a little time I’ll show you right where they are                               

Don’t tell me your lies…

I’ve done some things I’m not too proud I’ve done

Been down, wore out, tore up, flat busted out of luck

Ain’t got no money, ain’t got no fancy car

Ain’t got no way to get a Hollywood star…no…

Whiskey and cigarettes and sleepless nights

Too many bars, guitars, and cars, and hazy eyes…

Tired of running, tired of chasing them blues

I’m tired of trying to fight my way back home to you…

I got people I got friends

Some shoot you down some stick around to the bitter end

I got bruises I got scars

Got a little time I’ll show you right where they are                               

Don’t tell me your lies…

I’ve been to places I should not have been

My heart’s been ripped in two thrown out and left for dead

Ain’t got no lovin’ got no soul to spare

But if you want it you can try and raise it up again…

I got defenses I got walls to climb

Won’t let you in or out or touch a piece of my mind

Ain’t nothing pretty ain’t nothing shiny or new

But if you want me I could be your best tattoo…

                                     

Nobody in this world can love like you do

Nobody else I know can heal me like new

So if you want me I could be your best tattoo…

I won’t tell you no lies