Well we're acoustic singers, we've got calloused fingers
And we're loved everywhere we go
We've got a steady gig at Richoux's,
An every other Friday show

No its not big time but for us its fine
'Cause we're doing things we truly love
No we're not gettin' richer
but at least we got our picture
On the Cover of the Fun Section
 

Fun Section ... Got to see our faces on the cover
Fun Section ... Got to get four copies for our mothers
Fun Section ... Got to see our smiling faces
On the Cover of the Fun Section
We got a lawyer, court reporter and a broker and a banker
Not your usual acoustic group
We carry our own equipment
Haul it in in pin-striped suits

Yes we're yuppies by day but at night we play
And we're making this a lot of fun
Playing music worth hearing and this week we're appearing
On the Cover of the Fun Section
 

Fun Section ... Got to see our faces on the cover
Fun Section ... Got to get four copies for our mothers
Fun Section ... Got to see our smiling faces
On the Cover of the Fun Section

The Story Behind the Music:

Storywood started out as a purely acoustic band and was featured in an article on "Unplugged" acts in Baton Rouge run by the entertainment section of the local newpaper, called the "Fun Section" of the Advocate. Our picture appeared on the cover of the Fun Section, and this parody sort of wrote itself about 30 minutes before our show on the day the article came out. Lyric sheets were distributed, but the band chose against performing it. After reviewing the words again, this was probably the best decision.

Sign there on the dotted line, a quiet divorce after seven years
A voice says that its over, gavel comes down - echoes in my ears
I’ll move to Wyoming, you’ll live on in our pale brick house (I’ll)
Start over again if I can just remember how

And I will get by
My life will go on without you in it
I will get by,
I will get by
“Irreconcilable differences” - that’s the story we gave to our closest friends
But we both know the reason - I never gave up and you would never give in
You were always the strong one, the foundation for all of our memories
But foundations can break away, and your strength has set you free
 
And you will get by,
your life will go on without me in it
You will get by,
you will get by
 
The time and energy that we wasted
trying to get back what we never had
Flesh for guns, our battleground was the bed that we shared
Calls the question if we ever cared
SOLO

Sign there on the dotted line, a quiet divorce after seven years
A voice says that its over, gavel comes down - echoes in my ears
And so its finally over, nothing left to do, nothing left to say
Hearts torn asunder, now can go their separate ways
 

And we will get by,
Our lives will go in different directions
We will get by,
We will get by

The Story Behind the Music:

It was written a long time ago. The divorce didn't happen, probably to some extent based on my trip to Wyoming. Probably a song in there, too. Anyway, it was a hard time, but I'm much better now...

She was born in Mercy, baptised in grace from the start
Between the street cars and the river ‘neath the live oaks in the park
She was cradled with love in a bed of spanish moss
Its a solid foundation that will never be lost
But her spirit is pacing like a tiger in a cage
With a hunger for sensation in an innocent age

The only Haight she knows crosses Ashbury in the city by the bay
Where poets and dreamers and the Dead came to play
And she wishes she’d have been there in the Summer of Love
When everybody was dancing in a ring around the sun
And she paid the Howler tribute at Columbus and Broadway
But she cried ‘cause she missed Allen Ginsberg by one day
 

I’ve got a gypsy for a lover, I got a best friend for a wife
A belly-dancing homeroom mother, A tantric goddess in my life
She’s a poet in her soul with a love for rock and roll
She is everything bout passion and you know I love her so
God made Adam and Eve from the dust and the mud,
but when God made my Lady, God made a gumbo of love
Started up with a roux of things precious and right
Gave free will for dark color, the moon and stars to make it light
Then God mixed in all spices for passion of life
And God quickened the feast by adding the fire

And God knows, yes God knows, yes God knows that its well
What was cooked up in Heaven included spices from Hell
And that Lady is a mixture of darkness and light
She’s a mother by day, a high priestess by night
I have to believe that it was part of the plan
And I love that woman with all that I am
 

I’ve got a gypsy for a lover, I got a best friend for a wife
A belly-dancing homeroom mother, A tantric goddess in my life
She’s a poet in her soul with a love for rock and roll
She is everything bout passion and you know I love her so

The Story Behind the Music:

This is a love song for my wife, Sharon, written over traditional blues. It celebrates the duality of her nature (or perhaps diagnoses a bi-polar condition), even though this duality sometimes creates great tension in our lives.

The first verse tells about New Orleans, the city where she was born and the place that defines her soul. The specific images are:

• Sharon was delivered at Mercy Hospital (come on, how could I not use that?).
• At the time of her birth, her parents lived on Exposition Boulevard in Audubon Park, site of the Audubon Zoo (they lived across from the seal tank - probably a song in there somewhere, too). The park has beautiful oaks trees full of spanish moss.
• The park is located between St. Charles Avenue, a beautiful New Orleans landmark where the street cars run, and the Mississippi River.

• She loves the Haight Ashbury district (pardon the pun), or at least she loves what the district was in the 60's.
• She also loves the Dead. On the invitiations to a party celebrating her finishing graduate school, Sharon quoted Trucking: "Sometimes the lights all shining on me, other times I can barely see. Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip its been." I think she would have loved to been a part of the Dead's community in the 60's.
• When we went to San Francisco, we visited the City Lights Bookstore where many of the beat poets used to hang out and read their poetry, like Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. Sharon, an incredibly talented poet herself, worshipped at this altar for hours, and would have stayed longer if the employees hadn't chased her out. City Lights is located at the corner of Colombus and Broadway. On the outside of the bookstore was a flyer for a reading by Allen Ginsberg to be held the day after we left. She cried.

The final verses are about acceptance and hope.

- BA

Mama’s dating a rich man, now.
The whole family is talking about it
Has it been long enough, is it really that tough, and
What will the neighbors say

But mama says she doesn’t care
what people say or if they stare
When she’s out on the town parading around
On the arm of a generous man
 

Because when Daddy took off for another life
Thinking momma was best on her own
To take care of the home
She decided that life would give nothing that she didn't take
And there was no reason to wait.

Oh mama, why d’you look so sad
Oh mama, isn’t this what you had in mind when you started the game
 

Mama’s dating a rich man now
so maybe soon we’ll have us a house
Down on Swiss Avenue where the blood runs blue
And there’s a Cadillac in every garage

She met him down at the Lion’s Den,
the local watering hole where the men can
Go after work, and act like jerks
On Friday
 

And with a surgeon’s precision she opened his heart
Cut him right down to the bone,
Just taking care of her own
It didn’t matter his blood was like water and cold as ice
As long as he treats mama nice

Oh mama, why d’you look so sad
Oh mama, isn’t this what you had in mind when you started the game

And with a surgeon’s precision she opened his heart
Cut him right down to the bone,
Just taking care of her own
It didn’t matter his blood was like water and cold as ice
As long as he treats mama nice
 

Mama’s dating a rich man now (REPEAT and FADE)

The Story Behind the Music:

Most of my music has an autobiographical history or inspiration from one of my life experiences. Mama is an exception in that it is written about a completely fictional person in a completely contrived situation. The only part of the song that has any story about it is the title:

I was having lunch with a friend from work named Paul at a local music club/restaurant named M's Fine & Mellow Cafe (the old location for those of you familiar with downtown Baton Rouge). We were getting to know each other and he was telling me about his mother. At some point I asked Paul what his mother was up to these days. He started to answer, paused for a moment, and in an uncharacteristic manner said "Momma's dating a rich man now." Somehow, at that moment, that phase had a lyric quality to me and I scribbled it on a napkin so that I could work on it later. So often I come up with good song ideas or "hooks" but don't write them down and forget about them later. Fortunately, I did retrieve this one and turned it into a song.

Paul, an incredibly talented poet and lyricist himself, now lives in San Francisco in the Haight Asbury district.

- BA

Mirage on the Bayou
words and music by Brian Andrews (1994)
all rights reserved

---

There was a palace way out in the desert
Made of glitz and glass and steel
Was no coincidence the name on the sign was "Mirage"
Not a thing about the joint was real

It was a place for the gamblers to gather
And pay tribute to the Queen of Hearts
All the self righteous people at home approved
'Cause it was not in their back yard
 

But Louisiana had a problem:
how to balance our waste with our greed
So we're moving this mistake to the delta
As the fulfillment of all our needs
 
But it's a mirage, a Mirage on the Bayou
It's a mirage, Mirage on the Bayou
Play your cards, they're not real, place your bet, spin the wheel
Watch it go, round and round, round and round
Watch it go, round and round, round and round
Take your check, cash it in, lose it all, you can't win
So it goes down, down, down, down
So it goes down, down, down, down, down, down
We're gonna build the world's largest casino
And a hundred acre parking lot
Gonna pay for it all with the profits
In the City That Care Forgot

So put a second mortgage on the Cabildo
And let's time share the Presbytere
Set up a bingo game in St. Louis Cathedral
And a dog race at Jackson Square
 

And let's line up a thousand slot machines
From Canal down to Fonville way
Watch a billion quarters go down the drain
And the first will be the Vieux Carre
 
It's a mirage, Mirage on the Bayou
It's a mirage, Mirage on the Bayou
Play your cards, they're not real, place your bet, spin the wheel
Watch it go, round and round, round and round
Watch it go, round and round, round and round
Take your check, cash it in, lose it all, you can't win
So it goes down, down, down, down
So it goes down, down, down, down, down, down

The Story Behind the Music:

I love New Orleans. I love the old world charm of the city and the special places reserved for posterity. I was shocked when the plan to open the only land-based casino in the state was revealed, with its placement only a stone's throw from the French Quarter. I suppose there was some wisdom in this, but I felt it lacked vision of the long term effects to the city, particularly the Quarter. In addition, I felt that the projections were incredibly optimistic and that it would never work. This was my protest song.

P.S. As of early 1998, the casino still has not opened. Construction was halted after the developers filed for bankruptcy protection. Oh well...

Time To Heal
words and music by Brian Andrews (1997)
all rights reserved

I turn off the video and close my eyes, but the images don’t seem to fade
Try to tell myself it was make believe but the truth won’t be delayed
Crime for to pay
Against the only one and the only way
Now I must convince myself to stay

So many reasons, so many lies, so many ways to make sense
What once was easy is now hard to take, hard to be lovers and friends
Waiting for the day
I can find the open heartedness to stay
I hate that I can’t be that man today
 

Give me time to heal
Give me room to go and catch my breath
Give me time to heal, there’s gonna be a better day ahead, better day ahead
Just give me time
Silent agreements, unspoken rules, the deception was all prearranged
Temporary madness, suspended vows, go on like nothing had changed
How would it stay
the same relation not another way
If you break the band of gold it fades
 
Chorus
Shattered slumber, the mirror cracks, still meeting the ghost face to face
Its time for forgiveness, healing wounds, finding the meaning of grace,
Heading for the dawn -
letting go of what was right or what was wrong
Can’t change the past, must move on
 
Chorus twice

The Story Behind the Music:

Give me some time - I'll tell the story later...

Scent in the room is a touch of clove
Empty yet full with the touch of clove
Silently the smoke envelopes my skin
Rises to my lips, I breathe it in
And its taste reminds me of passionate kisses
Scattered breathing and desperate embraces
Bodies melting like paraffin figures
Set to flame by the heat of adventure, yeah

Soul of the room is the touch of clove
Full moon and stars mark the touch of clove
Walls dressed like stone, embellished with black
There by her chair, the mirror is cracked
Ten thousand facets reflect ten thousand feelings
Rainbows dance on the walls and the ceiling
Candlelight turned into coloured glass windows
Among ruins of gothic cathedrals, yeah

Absent but not lost is the touch of clove
Memories cling to the touch of clove
Smell of her hair and the feel of her skin
Born in this room and lived here when
An angel looked down on all that was passing
Sacrifices performed without asking
Celtic cross stood watch from above
As sacraments shared gave meaning to love, oh yeah

For Clove - Dec ‘97

The Story Behind the Music:

This song was inspired by and written in response to a poem by Sharon L. Williams Andrews, one of my favorite poets. Her poem was titled Menage and is presented below with permission of the author (with all rights reserved). My song is set in the bedroom that Sharon and I share.