Nick DiMauro and I had worked with Walt Sargent on his quirky Dunderhead CD back in 1995. We quickly learned that Walt had a warped and dead pan charm about him that leaked on over into his musical ideas as well. Since then I was always a fan of his songs. Forward 15 years later, I find myself interviewing him on Clam Radio. At the end of the show he told me this idea he had about a guy who was about to be executed and instead of having a last meal he wanted to sing a last song. I thought it was a funny concept but figured it was just small talk that would end up in the bowels of cabinet 47, soon to be forgotten. Little did I know, Walt had actually been working on lyrics regarding this last song idea. That night, he emailed me some scattered lyrics about this guy on death row and asked if I would be interested in contributing to it. At first (like usual) my instincts told me no way. I can’t come up with anything here. There’s no hook and no music! So I sat like a lump just looking at his ideas for a few minutes. I casually made my way to the pf-70 keyboard which was about a foot away from my computer and just started making things up. Somehow something caught my ear and I was able to work some of his lyrics into a melody and continue the story. It’s sort of like a low rent Billy Joel comedy song.
lyrics
LAST SONG
Did you hear about the singer who was sent to death row
For doing some heinous crimes
After all the appeals and stays were denied
The time did finally arrive
Well they came to his cell and said
“Now what would you like for your last meal?”
He said “Never mind the food." "Just bring me a mic and a keyboard."
"Preferably real ."
He said, “This is my chance to blow you away”.
Why suddenly I feel inspired
You know I’m at my best when I am under the gun
I can feel my mojo rising
I don’t know why my life went wrong
But I repent and condemn my past
If I could go back and do it again , this song would not be my last
The last song
The last words I wanna sing have nothing to do with my baby
The last song
The last words don't mean a thing
I’m just buying time
They say that miracles can happen
Ah, well ya never know
So hand me a microphone!
(Please. I'll even do a little soft shoe for ya.
Check out my technique. It's so, it's so techneeky)
Well he’d been ripped off for years
He’d been lied to his face
Promises never transpired
He said, “They got what was comin’."
As his hands hit a chord
“If only they’d listen for hire!”
Well, the prison guards were duly impressed but not enough to set him free
They said, “Son sing your song – be quick – move along."
"'Cause we’re getting tired and it’s time to eat."
(We're all hungry!)
The last song
The last words I wanna sing have nothing to do with my baby
The last song
The last words don’t mean a thing
I’m just buying time
They say that miracles can happen
Hey, well never know
(No, wait could you just, could you just bring up the keyboard just a little bit?
Yeah, yeah, that good.)
The last song
The last words I wanna sing have nothing to do with my baby
The last song
The last words don’t mean a thing
I’m just buying time
They say that miracles can happen
Yeah, ya never know
So hand me a microphone!
The bailiff : All rise.
The music world’s a heartbreak kid the judge was heard to say
But that’s no excuse for killing kid
as his gavel made it’s way to his sound block
You’re crimes may be forgiven son in the after life
Ah but here you’ll get the chair and we’re taking all your publishing!
Miracles can happen!
( Hey, ya never...Hum... Ah, could I have a little bit more "ME" in the monitor?
Ah, yeah, thank you.)
The last song
The last words I wanna sing have nothing to do with my baby
The last song
The last words don’t mean a thing
I’m just buying time
They say that miracles can happen
Christ, ya never know
So hand me a microphone!
Yes Sir!
credits
from Suburban Hermit Musings,
released March 31, 2015
JT : Vocals, Keys, Drums, Guitar, Bass
Recorded and Mixed at Suburban Hermit Studios II, Stony Brook, NY
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