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LYRICS:
Jack & Charmian
Lyrics by Doug McArthur, music by Jeffra published by Skye Songs SOCAN and Lovintide Productions Inc. BMI
Jack & Charmian, uncommonly blessed
Felt the earth shake, then rattle and rest
From the Valley of the Moon
They could see to the West
The smoke of Old San Francisco.
Jack & Charmian, in 1906,
Harnessed their carriage, rode in from the sticks
They stood on the shore, but the smoke was too thick
To see the ruin of Old San Francisco.
The ferryman brought them with a tear in his eye
Over from Oakland with smoke in the sky
All he could say with a terrible sigh
Was "The land it rolled like the sea."
Jack & Charmian, an army of two,
Ready to show the world what they could do
But where was the water? Nobody knew.
In the cauldron of Old San Francisco.
Jack & Charmian sat high on Nob Hill
The flames were so near, the air heavy and still
"Come into my mansion see if you will
The treasure of Old San Francisco."
The rich man stood there with a tear in his eye
Alone and abandoned with smoke in the sky
All he could say with a terrible sigh
Was "The land, it rolled like the sea."
"O see, I have acres of paintings and books
Tapestry, parchment and linen on hooks
For one final hour please stay and look
At the pride of Old San Francisco?"
Charmian sat down at a classic French Grand
With smoke at the window
She raised up her hand and played waltzes
'til Jack caught her up and they ran
Through the smoke of Old San Francisco.
Jack & Charmian, with a tear in their eye
Sailed off to Hawaii with sails in the sky
All they could say with a terrible sigh
Was "The land, it rolled like the sea."
Jack London is for many people the soul of the San Francico Bay area. He revolutionized the American novel in the early part of the 20th century and his own life became the touchstone of the area for readers all over the world. With his erstwhile and inventive second wife Charmian, Jack entered the ruins of San Francisco at the time of the 1906 earthquake and for three days under the firestorm recorded the destruction of the old city which had been America's major Western port since the Gold Rush. On Nob Hill they were invited in to see an art collection that was about to be destroyed. The events of this song are taken from the book "American Dreamers" by Prof. Clarice Stasz (Lexikos Publishing Lagunitas CA 1995).
Derek Jones: Bass; Jeffra: Keyboards
Angels of the Mission Trail
Lyrics and music by Doug McArthur and Jeffra published by Skye Songs Socan and Lovintide Productions Inc. BMI .
Reach forever Westward
'til you touch the edge of land
Where the Brothers of Franciscus
Have turned their busy hand.
They took Cabrillo's crumbling chart
Invoked the Angels from the start
Built the missions a day apart
In wild Ohlone land.
You can see them riding on the California Coast
Angels of the Mission Trail,
Take in one more broken ghost.
The earth is always moving here
There's a fire in the hills
The tide is always turning here
Only the heart is still.
Fogbound redwood harbour town
The road is lost, the way is found
The dangerous path the Angels use
The Holy Cross in Santa Cruz
You can see them riding on the California coast
Angels of the Mission Trail,
Take in one more broken ghost.
I tried to read the Bible,
You know I gave it my best shot
"Do unto others"
Is as far as I ever got
Those of you who think you see
The wings that hover over me
I'm asking you especially
Are you ready to be free
I might see you riding on the California coast
Angels of the Mission Trail,
Take in one more broken ghost
When we travel in Southern California we are often following the old Mission Trail established in the 18th Century. Many days we feel that by traversing once more this old road of beauty and mystery that we are asking to be accepted by the ghosts, angels and djinns that peer out from the woodsmoke and Redwoods. "Cabrillo" was the first Spanish sailor to see this coast in 1542. Parts of Highway 101 are still called "The Cabrillo Highway." The "Ohlone" were the Native Americans who lived in the San Francisco Bay Area when the Spanish arrived.
Todd Phillips: Bass; Joe Craven: Percussion; Joe Weed: Angel's guitar
The Hills Of Oregon
Lyrics and music by Doug McArthur published by Skye Songs SOCAN
(Chorus)
All along the Willamette
From here to Multnomah
We laid our hands upon the land
The hills of Oregon.
Spring blows in the cabin door
The woodsmoke and the Redwood
The talk runs 'round the town once more
The talk it turns to me
But I was only seventeen
Too young to know the reasons
Too young to know what it would mean
When Caleb came for me
(Chorus)
Heavy boots on the hard dirt floor
Behind me I hear laughter
The men all push each other out the door
Leaving him alone with me
He tells me of the dreams he's got
The future and the family
A hundred acres by Rooster Rock
And of his love for me.
(Chorus)
Oh the hearth and the husband true!
Oh the children's laughter!
All of these are my dreams too
But it's too soon for me
He hit me hard with his horn hard hand
Called me whore and harpy
Pushed me down on the hard dirt floor
Left me no more a maiden.
(Chorus)
All the men how they stare at me
They watch me while I'm walking
But Caleb's bride stares straight through me
Cold as any winter
Where are all my sisters now?
Where are those who raised me?
I walk the falls, I curse the day
That Caleb came for me
(Chorus)
The events of this song, the rape and subsequent "shunning" of the victim, could, and likely did, occur in plenty of frontier towns. Only imagination places the story in the Multnomah Falls area in the last century. We also mean to suggest the rape of the land by the "jolly loggers" in the chorus. Sadly, this, too, could be anywhere from California to Nova Scotia.
Todd Phillips: Bass
The Gold I Threw Away
Lyrics and music by Doug McArthur published by Skye Songs SOCAN>
(Chorus)
She was the gold I threw away when I was making plans one day
I was changing horses, making hay, I was drawing all these lines
She was a diamond in the rough, and I just wasn't smart enough
To see her shining through all that stuff. I threw it all away.
There's an old man up the alley
And he's down on his knees,
Searching through the garbage like he just lost his keys
Then I see he's kinda shabby and that silver Lexus Probably isn't his
I said "Hey old man, what do you know?"
He said "Don't bother me, son, I got a long way to go
There's something that I lost a long time ago and it's Something that I really miss.
I said "Hey old man, what do you say?
You know I lost somebody once the very same way"
I dropped to my knees and started flipping over Everything in sight.
He says "But you ain't from 'round here!" I said "No;
It was many years and many miles ago
But there's no use looking where a thing won't show
At least here there's a little bit of light."
(Chorus)
The thing about lightning is
It don't strike twice
But a little jolt now and then
Sure would be nice
It might straighten me up
Might make me have a brighter day
The thing about me is I really don't change
I'm still a rustler on the same old range
And even if I ever got her back again
I'd probably just blow it all away.
(Chorus)
An unusual encounter with a homeless man in Berkeley leads the writer to ponder some of the strange choices he has made in the past. The episode concerning "searching where the light is brightest" is an idea borrowed from the Sufi divine fool "Nazzradin." In Canadian grade school, the sage was known to all in the guise of "the Little Idiot" and his ideas were commonly discussed.
Todd Phillips: Bass; Peter Grant: Steel Guitar
lovintide
Lyrics & Music by Jeffra published by Lovintide Productions Inc. BMI
you look so yar in the sunset
with the waves all tumblin' down
whitewater beatin' froth in the air
and followin' down the strand
the moon looks down on the stars below
the stars above coincide
boats afar on the ocean green
tell their tale of lovintide, tell their tale of lovintide
the sky's all grey with the work of the day
pink with the romance to come
lights appear magically one by one
as each part of the day is done, as each part of the day is done
so gather here ye of little faith
where the works of the world reside
and see what the sea has to tell us all
on the eve of lovintide, on the eve of lovintide
for you and i can scarcely admit
the world is on our side
such a large and vast, voluminous task
to let the Truth abide, let the Truth abide!
the moon fills out with a perilous sigh
releases love all anew
and we know the stardust that fills our hearts
is a touch of the moon's eyedew
just a drop of Clair de Lune
the ever changing tides and omnipresence of the open sea are a constant in the California psyche, as well as the power and spiritual beauty of sunsets on the ocean, witnessed each night by hundreds of silent beach walkers who arrive alone and disappear with the light of the moon (or "Clair de Lune," Claude Debussy). "lovintide" is an imaginary holiday, although based on a time between february and march when sailors are said to fall in love with the sea.
Derek Jones: Bass; Jeffra: Keyboard
Stumble From Vesuvio
Lyrics & music by Doug McArthur published by Skye Songs SOCAN
I see the jacked up dharma bum
Stumble from Vesuvio,
Lurch along Columbus
Wrestle boys in Berkeley.
Ti Jean smuggled diamonds
Somewhere in his ruined body
Somewhere in his terrible mind
In an alley off of Chinatown
He coughed up diamonds
Coughed up gold.
I see Robert Louis Stevenson
Embracing pointless poverty
Love wracked, wind whipped
Fever dark
Along the wild Point Piños shore:
"The Seacoast of Bohemia"
The redoubt of Big Sur
And all the time Jack London
Is sailing on San Pablo
Finding diamonds in the oysters
Gold out in the fog.
I see the valley near Salinas
Steinbeck trysting with his gods,
Amazing Chinese fishermen
Gliding to the ocean
With eyes like Point Reyes lights
Tunnels of compassion
In the shadow of Diablo
In the Farrallone fog
Diamonds sewn in denim jackets
Gold scooped up from tidal pools.
I imagine all that gold
Washing down the ancient rivers
I think of all that carbon
I see what pressed it down.
It's a High Sierra compound,
North Pacific flume
This city is a giant pan
A great hand grips and sloshes 'round
Somewhere in the silt and flotsom
Something shining! Something bright!
Vesuvio Cafe; in North Beach, San Francisco has long been, and remains today, a favorite watering hole for the "literati" in the Bay Area. Jack Kerouac (Ti Jean) was known to linger (check out his novel of self destruction Big Sur). None of the other writers mentioned ever "stumbled from Vesuvio," but are conjured there in a burst of Ginsbergian liberty. Just brushing the tip of the iceberg as far as great writing goes in this part of the country. "The Seacoast of Bohemia" is a fine book about literary Carmel by Franklin Walker (Peregrine Smith, 1973).
Todd Phillips: Bass
Dust to Dust
Lyrics & music by Jeffra published by Lovintide Productions Inc. BMI.
Memorial Day spent racing down a parched Five Interstate
mirages rising from a buckskin dry display
rolling 'neath the cloud shadowed sculptured Diablo range
the California Aquaduct forced to offer change
to seas of penned up cattle with precious dirt to graze
desert Black-Eyed Susans peek out upon the maze
walnut orchards, chablis vineyards stolen seeds and water
pop-up quirks of verdure spear the molten haze.
(Chorus)
whoa whoa whoa, California, whoa whoa whoa, California
dust to dust, California, donde va? donde va?
"strip-mallitis" takes the lead, once into Orange county
the Angels' megalopolis, once named for fruit and bounty
close to ocean wonder, yet no such sight allowed
blocked by teeming cement and a rapacious building crowd
empty, ever empty, ever building, breeding more
wasting, covering, eating up a fertile valley floor
such a sense of loss and pity, generations so confused
cloning error after error, never Nature so misused
no time...no sense of history...digital clocks bear no past
quick-change...blinking data...
mirrors to a landscape changing just that fast
speed becomes the demon pushing life right to the edge
one being slips and finds it, Death takes its mortal badge
another Twentieth Century landhorse, spewing rocks and shattering time
squeals and flys onto the memorial pile of souls man leaves behind.
Essentially a long Memorial Day drive through the effects of speed and greed in California. Interstate 5 is skewered and paralleled in places by part of the California Aquaduct which forces water into the desert so that human beings can survive in Los Angeles. The water comes from as far away as the Columbia, with the Fraser next on the list (O Canada!) and twists nature to the extent that the Stanislaus River actually runs backwards for fifty miles. The day ended with a near escape from a horrendous car accident that we witnessed in detail in our rear view mirror.
Derek Jones: Bass; Joe Craven: Percussion
Montaña De Oro
(Mountain of Gold)
Lyrics and music by D. McArthur published by Skye Songs SOCAN
Richard Henry Dana claims he's gonna write a book.
He scribbles in his pack at night and he won't let me look
But I can't read much and anyway I've bigger fish to hook.
The fires of San Pedro, they burn the night away
We drink cactus pulp most every night
And haul the hides all day
This sailor work is not for me, soon I'll be on my way
I was shanghaied out of Boston, I woke up across the bar
Never wanted to leave the land and coat my hands with tar
I've been pushed and beat and bloodied down
And forced to sail too far
Around the Horn, the bitter Horn, the air is bleeding there,
It's thick with worms
The timbers crack, the ice crowds in,
On the shore black mountains burn and burn
Once 'round the Horn is all I need I've no wish to return
Chorus:
I'm going to be the richest man in California
Montaña de Oro, a mountain of gold.
In all this fetid, fly blown land, at least I'm not alone
I found myself a Chumash girl and she lives on her own
Last night she whispered to me how we'll steal a boat and go
She works too hard for Don Miguel
and she wants to go back home
And home is north two hundred miles
Where a great sea rock stands alone
That marks a spit that hides a trail that leads to a mountain made of gold!
(Chorus)
That surf, it almost killed me and it broke my Chumash girl
She's dying in the hut tonight while the sails of night unfurl
Even now she's calling to me
As the sun drops below the world
She says "Look outside, my blue-eyed love, See my golden mountain home It's you -Its you
I thank who brought me back, so I won't die alone
See how the orange poppies make the mountains look like gold?"
I thought I'd be the richest man in California
Montaña De Oro! Mountain of gold!
This unamed compatriot of Richard Henry Dana ("Two Years Before The Mast") is a different kind of man. While Dana sought the experiences of Cape Horn and the rigours of the West Coast hide trade, this accidental sailor thinks he can find an actual mountain of gold. This was a common delusion of early explorers. The Montaña de Oro State Park is still rearing its jagged cliffs over the strange volcanic Morro Rock. The poppies still turn the coast to gold.
Todd Phillips: Bass Joe Craven: Percussion
Big Alma
Lyrics by D. McArthur, music by Jeffra published by Skye Songs SOCAN and Lovintide Productions Inc. BMI.
The Clipper Ships are buried now
The railroad men are dust
The Barbary Coast is legend
The bridges flake to rust
Roaring San Francisco
And The Days of '49 are gone,
But down by Post & Powell
Big Alma holds the line
Chorus:
In the centre of the city
Down in Union Square
Look up at the statue
That's Alma dancin' there.
When Alma was a young girl
The men would buck and leap
Six feet tall and gorgeous!
Leave their carriage in the street
That girl was a beauty
She let her beauty shine
When Alma married money
Big Money didn't mind
Alma sailed to Europe
She went to Rodin's hall
Alma liked his sculptures
So Alma bought them all!
The ladies of the harbour
Sniffed at Alma's wares
So Alma built a Palace,
And put them all in there
Chorus:
Before she died in '68
To pass away the day
Alma in her Rolls Royce
Would roam around the Bay
Looking for her ghosts, I guess,
Talking to the air
The chauffer never had to ask
Just once around the square.
Alma Spreckels changed the skyline of San Francisco in more ways than one. She used part of her huge sugar fortune to build the Palace of the Legion of Honor, the Maritime Museum and a giant rambling mansion in Pacific Heights. She, along with Loie Fuller, introduced the works of Rodin to North America and installed "The Thinker" in its present position at the entrance of the Palace. When she was young and single, she conquered poverty by becoming one of the most sought after models in the city. In this capacity she posed for the dancing figure atop the Dewey Monument in Union Square, a landmark recognized all over the world. Single again in her seventies, she ran off with and married a cowboy. "Alma," by the way, is Spanish for "Soul." The story comes from"Big Alma" by Bernice Scharlach (Scottwall Associates, San Francisco, 1995).
Derek Jones: Bass; Joe Craven: Percussion
Kinsymphony
Lyrics & Music published by Jeffra Lovintide Productions Inc. BMI
oh my family,
deeply part of me
where my heart sings its kindred symphony circle golden
words misspoken
pride a broken, open wound
Chorus:
where does forgiveness lie
that melts the ice inside
must I live this night when I only feel light
and the pull of the moon
father, mother
sister, brother,
friend and lover and inbetween
i want to heal you
not choose between you
i'd give my life to find the common ground
where does forgiveness lie
that melts the ice inside
must I live this night, when I only feel light
and the pull of the moon
Our celebration of California "Angels" ends with an invocation of peace for the future. Informed by threads of the Ishi story (the last wild Native American who lived in San Francisco in the early part of the century), the vision quest of Lakota White Hat, the teachings of Patricia Locke and Peace Pilgrim, Jeffra has formed a moving call to reconciliation. "Mitakuye Oyasin"...(Lakota: "we are all related...")
Derek Jones: Bass; Doug McArthur: Guitar; Dale & Marilyn Barcellos: Background Vocals.
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