From A Buick 6 . . . Just For Kicks

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Just for kicks (or *is* it? . . . woooo . . . ol Kev's gettin' all mysterious on your asses) here's a full-throttle amphetamine blues foot-stompin' number from back in "aught 65" that will definitely go on my much anticipated (and 35 years in the making) "Bob Dylan's Greatest Songs That Most People Ain't Never Heard Because They Weren't Never Played On No Dang Radio" mixed CD.

The song is called "From A Buick 6" and it's from that work of musical and lyrical genius that we all know and love, and rely on during those confounded and compounded backed in a corner extended moments of sweat-inducing metaphysical angst. Of course I speak of the album HIGHWAY 61 REVISTED.

By the way . . . I got fitty-bone (i.e. fifty dollars) for ANDREW AND THE PRETTY PUNCHERS if they ever play this live for me.

And I got another fitty-bone (i.e. ditto or "i bid") if the song shows up on a CD of theirs someday.

I simply must hear Josh loping all over that bass line; Kevin saying "fuck harmonia solos" and scorching through the solo on his Les Paul (in lieu of said harmonica); Greg eschewing the organ and getting his honky ass tonkin' and ticklin' those ivories of pianoanic reverie; and the Andy-man belting out those brilliantly imagaic non-sequiterian verses (or *are* they? . . . woooo . . . now ol' Bob's gettin' all mysterious on your asses).

Did I miss anyone?

Oh yeah.

And Michael on drums.



















please click and listen (lyrics also in top corner of video for those who would like to sing along - just click on "more info"):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2rld98cExA


From A Buick 6
(B. Dylan)

I got this graveyard woman, you know she keeps my kid
But my soulful mama, you know she keeps me hid
She's a junkyard angel and she always gives me bread
Well, if I go down dyin', you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.

Well, when the pipeline gets broken and I'm lost on the river bridge
I'm cracked up on the highway and on the water's edge
She comes down the thruway ready to sew me up with thread
Well, if I go down dyin', you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.

Well, she don't make me nervous, she don't talk too much
She walks like Bo Diddley and she don't need no crutch
She keeps this four-ten all loaded with lead
Well, if I go down dyin', you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.

Well, you know I need a steam shovel mama to keep away the dead
I need a dump truck mama to unload my head
She brings me everything and more, and just like I said
Well, if I go down dyin', you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.

. (c'mon, turn up that Buick 6 dial to 11 . . . you know you wanna hear it again)

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