Available on iTunes and Apple Music.
The eleven song CD starts off with Marv Ross’s locomotive romp ala’ Johnny Cash, “The Christmas Train”. Sung by wife Rindy Ross (lead singer of Quarterflash), this tune has that classic Sun Records slap-back groove provided by Marv’s staccato D-18 guitar strum and drummer Dan Stueber’s unique rhythms played on the side of his snare drum. Eddie Parente and Gayle Neuman burn on twin fiddles while Cal Scott backs the tune with some sweet blues harmonica. The lyric captures Marv’s memories of his grandpa who always arrived late for Christmas due to his working as a railroad engineer for Union Pacific.
(music & lyric by Marv Ross ©2010)
Well, my Grandpa Marvin was an engineer,
On the southbound special for nineteen years,
And every Christmas he’d show up late,
‘Cause he worked the night train,
Called ‘The Golden State’.
chorus
From California cross the Siskiyou chain,
Up big mount Shasta thru the snow and rain,
From Sacramento to the Cascade Range,
Grandpa drove the engine on the Xmas train
Grandpa’d let me wear his railroad coat,
It smelled like diesel — smelled like smoke,
Grease on the sleeves — a union patch,
I was Casey Jones comin’ down that track
chorus
I still see Grandpa eatin’ Mom’s mince pie,
We’d play with his lighter ‘n yank on his tie,
He’d lift my cousins off the kitchen floor,
We’d yell “skin the cat”,
And then beg for more.
chorus
In his overalls he would fall asleep,
While we opened presents all around his feet,
By the time he woke up it was time to go,
He said, it won’t be long,
Before that whistle blows.
chorus
“London Town” comes next and this Celtic-inspired tune is sung by multi-instrumentalist Cal Scott (guitar, piano, cornet, mandolin, harmonica) who wrote this with renowned fiddler, Kevin Burke. It tells the true story of all the Irishmen who, after World War II, sailed to England to work and help re-build London after it was bombed by Germany. A soaring melody by Cal and wonderful penny whistle/fiddle interplay by Phil Neuman and Eddie Parente (violin, viola) lift this celebration of the power of music. The traditional Irish session jig, “The Rambler” is imbedded as a second bridge and Dan Stueber’s Irish bodhran (drum) provides the rolling heartbeat.
© 2010 Cal Scott and Kevin Burke
A bus leaving Sligo on a cold winter’s night
Took Micheal away from his home
He’d heard that in England there was work to be had and
To the Dublin docks he did roam
On the Holyhead boat there were others like him
From Lietrim and Kerry and Down
Sons and daughters from all over Ireland
Bound for London Town.
He wandered the city in search of the start
Or even a room for the night
In his left hand: a suitcase of leather and wood
His grandfather’s fiddle in his right
Through the streets of the bombed out buildings
Past the rubble that Hitler blew down
A strayaway child from the West of Ireland
Alone in London Town.
He signed on with a ganger from Dublin
The cruelest little tyrant that ever he’d met
Had him sweatin’ in trenches for twelve hours a day
It was hard work, but all he could get
He’d take out his fiddle when the work was done
And the Gorman boys danced to the sound
They were the broad-backed sons of Ireland
Come to rebuild London Town.
They were seven day weeks with nary a break
Sligo was left far behind
When one of the lads said “pick yourself up”
And come down the road for a pint
When they opened the door, Micheal thought he was home
Oh, what a glorious sound!
Sons and daughters from all over Ireland
Playing music in London Town.
There was Mairtin Byrnes from Galway
McCarthy and Casey from Clare
The Roger, McClinchey, and Roland and Farrell
Seemed half of all Ireland was there
And they bid him to take out his fiddle
And they played till the lights went down
“Raise your glass to the 33rd county, son,
It’s right here in London Town.”
Instrumental (Jig, The Rambler)
Now many a year has past and gone
But it seems just a fortnight ago
Those sessions at the Whiteheart and the Favourite
Up on Fulham Broadway and Holloway Road
It’s the music that carries the heart and the soul
The same the whole world ‘round
Whether your livin’ in New York or Donegal
Or here in London Town
It’s the music that carries the heart and the soul
It’s the same the whole world ‘round
Whether you’re livin’ in New York or Donegal
Or here in London Town
“When I Cross The Plain” features Rindy’s strong vocal and Marv’s driving guitar and banjo. Mixing two low trombones with bluegrass-y violin and mandolin is a unique Trail Band combination first heard on their album, Oregon Stories. Sung from the point of view of a feisty elderly woman looking back on her life from her deathbed, Marv’s lyric mixes humor, defiance, and longing. Rindy’s passionate harmonica playing and Eddie’s hot licks on the violin take the song out with a whoop and a shout. “Tell ‘em I don’t want no wreath - tell ‘em I had all my teeth - tell ‘em I’ll be throwing away my cane when I cross the plain.”
(music & lyric by Marv Ross ©2010)
Give me back that summer when I turned ten
I spent that summer on a fat tire Schwinn,
Give me back my sneakers and my rat-tail comb,
That’s all I’m wearin’ on my way back home.
Oh I’ve been dreamin’ I can run again,
To the road & back before mama counts to ten,
Yeah, I hear Jack barkin’ at my heels,
Up drives dad then I wake up with these chills,
Again...
Oh tell the girls... I still looked good,
Tell ‘em all... how straight I stood
Tell ‘em I’ll be throwin’ away my cane,
When I cross the plain.
Give me back one morning on Clackamas lake
Give me one more huckleberry - one less snake
Make me a paddle and a cottonwood raft
I’m headin’ downriver and I won’t be back.
Oh, I’ve been dreamin’ I can dive again,
Off the highest rock in the canyon where we’d swim
I dive through the air with amazing grace,
Hit the water then I wake up in this place again,
Oh, tell the boys I still can dance
Tell ’em all they missed their chance
And tell ’em I’ll be throwin’ away my cane,
When I cross the plain, when I cross the plain.
Oh, I’ve been dreaming I can rise again,
Like Jesus did after dying for our sins,
Up I go hanging to his sleeve,
Then I wake up in this old bed I can’t leave,
Again...
Oh, tell ’em I don’t want no wreath
Tell em I had all my teeth
And tell ’em I’ll be throwin’ away my cane,
When I cross the plain, when I cross the plain.
“A Smallest Act of Kindness” is one of those songs that moves you to the core. Written shortly after a death in his family, Cal Scott captured all the emotion and heartache is his tune expounding the “essence of the good books one and all”. There is a hymn-like aura to this that is sung with tenderness and strength. Phil Neuman’s pennywhistle solo is exquisite. It’s not easy to put The Golden Rule to music, but that’s exactly what Cal has achieved with this composition that is a call to the best in all of us to act.
© 2010 Cal Scott, BMI
There is grace in the smallest act of kindness
Be it a smile that is true or a word from the heart
It can help put pain and suffering behind us
And welcome home a wayward child from afar
It's the currency of the spirit
It's the language of the soul
It's the essence of the good books one and all
One and all
It's the essence of the good books one and all
There is courage in the smallest act of kindness
With a lover or a foe it is not the easy way
It's the simplest to offer in the moment
And the hardest to master day by day.
(chorus)
Give your time to your brother
Bring him home from the wilderness
Lend an ear to the old ones
Before they take their rest
Light a candle in the darkness
Of the rooms of despair
Share the harvest with your neighbor
When his cupboard is bare
There is power in the smallest act of kindness
It's a whisper in the ear that echoes far beyond
It is a wave that carries 'cross the ocean
That was born a simple pebble in the pond
(chorus)
“Eleanor Plunkett / A Pinch of Snuff” Eddie Parente is one of the most gifted and versatile violinists in the recording world today and on these two instrumentals he demonstrates his unique ability to go from playing achingly gentle phrases to all-out quick tempo’d 16th-note runs. Going from a slow number to a ‘burner’ has been a trademark of Trail Band concerts and CDs going back to 1995 when Eddie and the Trailsters recorded “Christmas Eve / Christmas Day” on the album, Immigrant Dreams.
“Christmas Valley” was written and sung by Marv Ross. It tells the true story of a sad-eyed unwed mother and a “lost hippy carpenter” meeting by chance one night in the small town of Christmas Valley, Oregon and falling in love. Creating hope out of despair is the message and the parallels between this true NW tale and the original Christmas story is what inspired Marv to compose. Mick Doherty on bass and Dan Stueber on drums give this a Neil Young-ish pulse. Rindy’s plaintive harmonica seals the deal.
(music & lyric by Marv Ross ©2010)
She was waiting for a ride in a small town bowling alley,
Once a carefree cowgirl — now a single mom,
He pulled in for coffee,
He’d never been thru Christmas Valley,
Just a lost hippy carpenter,
A walking Neil Young song.
chorus
And it’s just another silent night
In Christmas Valley,
Where not much ever changes,
Not much grows,
But if tumbleweed can spread its seed,
And grow across this plain,
If life can come from dust,
Love can rise from pain.
She looked over at his table — he smiled in her direction,
She said, “my baby boy’s at a friend’s house,
I could sure use a lift,”
Behind her sad blue eyes he saw his own reflection,
Is this a star I follow? Is this a gift?
chorus
He drove the mother & child home,
It was dark on the stairs,
She said, “Would you hold him,
While I find my keys? His name is Tim.”
He touched the baby’s hair,
He smelled the baby’s skin,
He opened up his carpenter’s coat,
And let the baby in.
chorus
“The Blues” is sung by Gayle Neuman (violin, recorders, trombone, banjo) in this Marv Ross tune about a strong woman’s acceptance of living a solitary life in the rugged Blue Mountains in Eastern Oregon. The signature instrumental theme is played by Rindy on soprano sax and Eddie on violin. Cal’s piano and Marv’s guitar provide the rhythm and Mick’s acoustic bass gives the song it’s swirling 6/8 feel. Danny’s drumming drops us just a hint of jazz-swing in the instrumental minor section. “Everyone knows it comes and it goes in these mountains we all call The Blues...”
(music & lyric by Marv Ross ©2010)
I was born in the rain near the tailings & trains,
By the shacks and the empty corrals,
At the foot of these hills where the meadowlark trills,
I fell for a boy from The Dalles.
I thought we were home but he wanted to roam,
As he left — he asked me to choose,
Oh god how I grieved but I just couldn’t leave,
And everyone knows it comes and it goes,
On these mountains we all call ‘The Blues’.
I hid for awhile ‘til I found a new smile,
Not as sweet and a little bit sad,
And I leaned on my friends and tied up loose ends,
And gathered what treasures I had.
And that year later on I buried my mom,
In the shade of her old Irish yews,
And I built a new home out of cedar and stone,
And everyone knows it comes and it goes,
On these mountains we all call ‘The Blues’.
Oh, I’m never alone in this garden that’s grown,
By god and the devil and me,
And the deer and the crow eat all that we grow,
And everyone gets what they need.
And lovers they come and lovers they try,
And all of them want me to choose,
And whenever they ask “Are you happy at last?”
I say... everyone knows it comes and it goes,
On these mountains we all call ‘The Blues’.
“Go West — A Jack Tale” is Mick Doherty’s (hammer dulcimer, guitar, banjo, bass, jaws harp) solo songwriting debut for The Trail Band. Mick’s lyrics were inspired by the traditional Jack Tales popular in Appalachian folklore. Mick has Jack heading out West to Oregon after encounters with ‘conjurors’ and a “green-eyed beauty”. Performed in the original “Trail Band” style mixing brass with strings, this jaunting folk ballad harkens back to the band’s roots from their 1992 debut, Voices From The Oregon Trail.
© 2010 by Mick Doherty
Jack fell in with the wild boys ‘neath Shenandoah hill
Pickin’ at night round the firelight
Drinkin’ likker from the still, sippi’ from that still
Sherif’s men came calli’, Jack ran by the riverside
Survived those days in a hungry haze
Oh, he took ‘em for a ride, Took them for a ride
A strange old man sprung up on Jack, beneath a chestnut oak
Fetched Jack a lick with his crooked stick,
Then he shut his eyes and spoke
Chorus:
Go West, young man, go west.
Those mountains are yet rising
Go West, young man, go west
Beyond the far horizon
On the windy city sidewalk Jack saw the dance’s grace
Played in a trance while the lady danced
money filled the case, cash filled Jac’s banjo case
When the dancer skipped with the railroad man, Jack with his banjo cried
Lost the beat of that city street
The people passed him by, people passed him by
Sleeping in the alley when the bag lady appeared
He felt her creep into his sleep
As she whispered in his ear
Chorus: Go West!
He flew across the Rockies, slid down the high Cascades
Hit the ground in old Stumptown
Swore he’d make the grade, Knew he had it made
Met his green-eyed beauty, she had a fiddle in her hand
Stepped on his porch and lit his torch
Now Jack’s a married man, Jack is a married man
Jack dreams of those wise conjurors who sent him on his way,
His legs’ll twitch ‘n bound like a sleeping hound
As again he hears them say
Chorus: Go West!
“Hello I Love You Goodbye” was arranged by Marv Ross and Phil Neuman (tuba, trombone penny whistle, cornet, recorders) in the popular Mexican style called “banda”. Mixing dramatic Norteno brass and military-like percussion with lightening fast tuba phrases, this uptempo waltz tells the story of an ill-fated romantic encounter between a man, a woman, and her “yellow tailed bird from Brazil”. Inspired by the dark short stories of Raymond Carver and the phrasing of Bob Dylan’s “To Ramona”, Marv’s narrative is both wry and tragic, illustrating the human tendency to project both love and hate onto innocent third parties.
(music & lyric by Marv Ross ©2010)
Ellie’s divorce left a hole in her heart,
That she filled with a yellow-tailed bird from Brazil,
And she fed it her tears, and she washed it in love,
And in time, it embodied her redemption and will.
Its wings were as gold as the dreams of Cortez
But kept short to keep it from flying too high,
And the very first words Ellie taught to the bird,
Were “Hello” “I love you” and “Good-bye”.
Ellie met Paul near the church where she worked,
She was drawn to his mouth and his almondine skin,
But the devil can blind us to those that would bind us,
And in a month Paul had all but moved in.
While Ellie was away he drank madeira all day,
With just the heat and the cage, and the wine and the flies,
And Paul hated the words of that yellow-tailed bird,
“Hello” “I love you” and “Good-bye”.
When the rains never came and the sun became cruel,
Love left the bodies of Ellie and Paul,
And love rose through the ceiling, passed over the roof,
And was gone as if it never had touched them at all.
Ellie told Paul to move out before dark,
Then she left as he spit back his anger-filled words,
And he drank all her wine and went sick in his mind,
And he cut off the tail of the bird.
The house was as still as the Sea of Cortez,
In the heartbeat preceding a gathering storm,
The curtains hung straight and the air had a weight,
You could feel when you opened the door.
Pools of red wine like blood left behind,
Stained a Mexican rug and drew blue-bottle flies,
And there on the wall the devil had scrawled,
“Hello, I love you, goodbye”
“Rooftop Rag” is Cal Scott’s swing instrumental excursion that puts a smile on your face and a tap in your toe. The “A” section is brought to life by Eddie’s violin and then repeated by Mick on the hammer dulcimer (not your typical swing instrument). Cal’s cornet takes us into the Duke Ellington-inspired minor “B” section and Danny’s tip-of-the-hat tongue-in-cheek drum solo harkens back to the twenties when wood blocks ruled and hihat cymbals weren’t yet invented. Gayle on slide trombone and Rindy on soprano sax fill out the sections. The band loves this kinda music — yowza, yowza, yowza...
“Ain’t Loved Enuf of You” Marv wrote this on banjo and the band played it live in the studio on a hot August afternoon at Secret Society Studio. Mick and Rindy sing it like they want it and we got it on the second take. Not bad for a bunch of folky-poppy-jazzy-early music-Mariachi-boomer muso types that played their first gig together 20 years ago on Halloween night in Cleveland, Ohio. God bless The Trail Band and pass the ammunition!
(music & lyric by Marv Ross ©2010)
Ain’t loved enuf of you,
I ain’t hardly nearly through,
There’s so much more... to explore,
Ain’t loved enuf of you.
We ain’t scratched every itch,
We ain’t rolled in every ditch,
There’s too much fun that we ain’t done
Ain’t loved enuf of you.
Ain’t picked every peach on the tree,
Nor combed every beach by the sea,
Ain’t pitched every woo, kitchied every coo,
Sang in every key.
We ain’t drove every car on the lot,
Haven’t been around every block,
There’s so much more candy in the store,
That we ain’t bought.
I wanna lot of you — an itty bit won’t do,
There’s way too much — that ain’t been touched,
Ain’t loved enuf of you.
I don’t need a pekingese,
But I’d like a peek a thigh,
There’s too much terrain it’s drivin’ me insane,
Ain’t loved enuf of you.
(There’s so much more...) to adore
(There’s so much more...) candy in the store,
(There’s so much more...) rolling on the floor,
(There’s so much more...)
With words that rhyme with “or”...
Ain’t loved enuf of you.
