I was gonna type it in, but of course it's online:
The gentleman quietly walked into our dressing room during intermission at our show in Miami a few years ago, five years to be exact. He had the kind of magnetism that makes you turn around and look, and everyone did. There was something else about this man, though-his humbleness, and the way he stood in a corner out of everyone's way. He stood with his hat in his hands, waiting to be acknowledged, and I spoke to him. The face wasn't familiar, but there was a distinction about him that commanded attention. His rugged, tanned face and arms gave him the appearance of an athlete, but his snow-white hair showed that he was well past thirty-nine.
After I stood up and introduced myself, I was very embarrassed when he called me "Mister Cash." I usually can cover my embarrassment by replying, "Mister Cash is my daddy." This time I was afraid it might sound disrespectful.
His name, he said, was Ervin Rouse, and he hesitatingly went on to say that a few years ago he had written a few songs himself, but that I had probably never heard them. I felt the name should ring a bell, and offering him a chair, I asked what songs he had written.
He honestly tried to avoid answering by saying they were just a bunch of old tunes. I asked him again what songs he had written, and he replied in a beautiful Southern seaboard dialect that a Southerner such as myself enjoys hearing. He said finally that probably his best number was a fiddle tune. I sensed his honesty and finally asked him point blank: "What fiddle tune, Mr. Rouse?" Evidently people had not believed him in the past when he mentioned his song writing, so he reluctantly said: "Well, I guess my biggest one was the Special." I didn't raise my eyes when I asked politely: "You mean Orange Blossom Special?" This time his answer was a question, and everyone in the dressing room knew as I did that this man was sincere.
The question was, "Did you ever ride on the Atlantic Coast Line? I've been up and down it many times, and even out West on the Southern Pacific, but I'm pretty well settled here in the sandy land now."
He went on to say that that night, or rather that day, he had traveled for miles across the Everglades in a machine he built and called a "swamp buggy." Then, somewhere near Miami, he borrowed his sister's bicycle and rode about ten miles to our show.
The second half of the show was about to begin, and Mother Maybelle Carter was tuning her guitar to go on stage. He turned to her and said: "Mother Carter, I know you may not remember me, but I met you years ago and worked a show with you in Virginia. My name is Rouse, ma'am. I used to sing a little, and play the Special-the Orange Blossom Special, that is-and probably the only other one of mine that most anyone ever heard was a little tune I wrote for my dear mother, called "Sweeter Than the Flowers." Of course she remembered, as did all of us sitting around listening. He added, "The Special belongs to everybody by now, I guess, but it used to be my best number."
I asked Mr. Rouse to be my special guest on the show that night. The house was packed for two shows, and when he did Orange Blossom Special they tore the house down. It was hard to coax him to encore, and when he did, I asked him to sing "Sweeter Than the Flowers." At first I thought he was going to flatly refuse. He said, "It's just too sad, and it hits too close to home, and I'm not in the mood for it." However, the audience wouldn't let him stop. His sincerity and his magnetism automatically commanded complete silence throughout the auditorium as he sang "Sweeter Than the Flowers."
The customers in the coffeehouses in New York and other big cities haven't seen Ervin Rouse. The tidal wave of discoveries of folk-music performers missed this man. Most of the young folk-music authorities throughout the country have not seen him perform. And I doubt if Mr. Rouse has heard a few of the countless recordings of his songs. He said he wouldn't know what to do if anyone asked him to prove that he wrote either of the two numbers.
Since that night I have seen the man many times and spent many hours talking to him and listening to him sing. He's probably past sixty, and I don't think he would mind telling you so, but his voice is as clear as it must have been thirty years ago.
If you went looking for Ervin Rouse, you would have a hard time finding him. He might be miles out on the Everglades alone with the nature he loves, hunting, fishing and trapping. Or, you might be lucky enough to find him in a garage somewhere near Miami where he makes his "swamp buggies," rugged amphibious vehicles that are powerfully propelled by a giant six-foot fan. They go across the Everglades as smoothly as if they were on a freeway. Mr. Rouse makes them and sells them to hunters and fishermen who want to go into the Glades.
He's been everywhere, including New York, where he quit rambling temporarily, but rode back to Miami on the Seaboard Line. I didn't ask him, but I am compelled to believe that he must have gone home to the life he loves on a train he called the "Orange Blossom Special." At least from the way he sings the words, I'll say that he definitely did, and give him credit for having lived every minute of it, plus much more that the song didn't tell.
And I'll just bet that right now-somewhere down in Florida-he's got sand in his shoes-clean, white sand.
-Johnny Cash 1965
Who knew Ervin Rouse wrote Orange Blossm Special and went on to orchestrate manatee trauma throughout the Everglades! But they're wonderful liner notes.
I also wanted to say, when Johnny performed this song (the 2nd time I saw him play ), they lowered a screen behind the stage and showed film footage of him on top of boxcars, like on the record cover, same shoot I guess. I cried and cried, it was so beautiful.
'raging and weeping are left on the early road
now each in his holy hill
the glittering and hurting days are alomst done
then let us compare mythologies
i have learned my elaborate lie
of soaring crosses and poisened thorns'
Everybody on this board should own "Back To Mono".
Quite a few probably already do.
So I'd be surprised if we two are the only ones who know that tune here.
Spamuel L. Jackson wrote:Everybody on this board should own "Back To Mono".
Quite a few probably already do.
So I'd be surprised if we two are the only ones who know that tune here.
MORE RONETTES LOVE! STAT!
i got that album. be my baby is probably the perfect 'pop' song if by pop you use the current definition
'raging and weeping are left on the early road
now each in his holy hill
the glittering and hurting days are alomst done
then let us compare mythologies
i have learned my elaborate lie
of soaring crosses and poisened thorns'
Bob Marley's "Waiting In Vain" has always been my favorite song of his, but I don't know if I can choose a favorite song EVER... the closest might be "Tangled Up In Blue" from the New York sessions as released on The Bootleg Series --- not the version on the New York sessions bootleg.
lately i think i'd have to say 'over the ocean' by low. i was even telling someone about the video today... i just saw them last week and i was too much of a weenie to yell it out as a request...
'Lazy Jane Line Painter' by Belle & Sebastian...I just love the verse where Isobel Campbell comes in so effectively sounding about as aggressive as I've ever heard her sing, then the middle eight section where the church organs just build and build to make a monumental sound collage of orgasmic proportions...or I could just avoid hyperbole and say it's a great song
I'm like Evel Knievel, I get paid for the attempt. I didn't promise this shit would be good! Dave Chappelle
moop wrote:my computer died today along with some songs i was making, so i needed something to cheer me up!
Sorry man, that fuckin' blows. Hope that Pezband hit the spot.
tell me about it.. i can't even afford to pay the 45 quid or so to get the motherboard/cpu replaced. i'm hoping the hard drives are ok so i'll be able to recover the songs. amusingly i was having a search through my external hard drive and may well have located a long lost track, except that i can't open up the song file since it wouldn't work on this old pc. plus i appear to have lost my cubase cd, so i can't install it on someone elses computer just to see if the song works.
i'm left with a provisional mix as an mp3, complete with 'amusing' samples that i now can't remove..*sigh*. i can upload if anyone's interested in hearing it.
on the plus side, it looks like it's an ice cream and beer day. woo.
really enjoying the pezband btw.. kinda reminds me of macca if he'd done something good post-beatles. plus maybe a bit of big star in there? i thought so anyway.
moop wrote:really enjoying the pezband btw.. kinda reminds me of macca if he'd done something good post-beatles. plus maybe a bit of big star in there? i thought so anyway.
I hear that Big Starry insolence too, man, and I dig it!
Cool someone else thinks that a lot of the bands who were doing McCartney influenced music in the 70's were making better records than McCartney was. Another side like that is Steve Martin and Mike Brown's "Two By Two".
Some days I reckon the greatest song ever is "Look Through Any Window", Hollies. Pretty much any day I listen to it.
Great writing, performance, amazing sound.
Its changed, over the past few weeks Ive been hammering the first New York Dolls album and I have to say I think "Trash" may well be the most perfect pop song ever!
The end coda that just keeps building and building and heavenly wooooooooo ooooooo ooooooo ooooo ooooooo vocals over the top. the tremelo'ed voices, the guitar sound. the drums. the maraca's. I think I could listen to it over and over again forever.
), they lowered a screen behind the stage and showed film footage of him on top of boxcars, like on the record cover, same shoot I guess. I cried and cried, it was so beautiful.
