Jim Allyn | Backyards of the Brave

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Backyards of the Brave

by Jim Allyn

True stories from train yards, backroads, battlefields and coal mines. Mandolin, pedal steel, fiddle, banjo, piano...with special guests Francine Wheeler, Sofia Chiarandini, John Widgren, Rick Brodsky, Teah Renzi, Walker Russell, Nick Werden, Cameo Delia.
Genre: Folk: Singer/Songwriter
Release Date: 

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  Song Share Time Download
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1. This Old Guitar
4:32 $0.99
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2. Train Calling Your Name
3:28 $0.99
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3. Priority Gal
4:30 $0.99
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4. Hear the People
3:51 $0.99
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5. Lindytown
4:26 FREE
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6. Jazzbo
4:10 $0.99
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7. Sweet New England Home
4:36 $0.99
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8. Honeybee
3:14 $0.99
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9. Backyards of the Brave
4:16 $0.99
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10. Lighthouse
3:12 $0.99
Downloads are available as MP3-320 files.

ABOUT THIS ALBUM


Album Notes
Songs In Order:

1. This Old Guitar
2. Train Calling Your Name
3. Priority Gal
4. Hear the People
5. Lindytown
6. Jazzbo
7. Sweet New England Home
8. Honeybee
9. Backyards Of the Brave
10. Lighthouse

All words and music by Jim Allyn
except as noted below.

Produced, Mixed, and Engineered by Jim Allyn, Robert Miller, and Dennis Hrbek
Mastered by Wayne Warnecke at Peaceful Waters Music
Studio Tech Design and Support: Robert Miller

Musicians
Francine Wheeler - lead and harmony vocals: tracks 2, 10
John Widgren - Pedal steel guitar: track 1
Nick Werden - 12 string guitar and additional bass: track 9
Dennis Stratford - Percussion: track 2
Walker Russell - Percussion: tracks 2, 9
Teah Renzi - Vocals: track 4
Denis Hrbek - Drums and percussion: tracks 8, 9
Cameo Delia - Flute: track 9
Sofia Chiarandini - Violin: tracks 3, 5
Jimmy Buck - Percussion: track 9
Rick Brodsky - Stand up bass: tracks 2, 5
Jim Allyn - vocals, guitar, piano, mandolin, harmonica, accordion, bass, ukulele, banjo, percussion

This Old Guitar - Words and music by Jim Allyn and David Shugarts
Jazzbo - Music by Jim Allyn and Richard Neal, lyrics by Jim Allyn

Cover Design: Sasha Allen
Cover Photo: Peter Allen, 1968

Thanks to all the amazing musicians and friends who have joined me on this record, and thanks to:
Wayne Warnecke and Vaneese Thomas at Peaceful Waters Music, Newtown Congregational Church, Francine Wheeler,
Teah Renzi, Sofia Chiarandini, Cameo Delia, Nick Werden, Jimmy Buck, Walker Russell, Rick Brodsky, Bill Burton, Tom Lutz, Karen Negry, Dennis Hrbek, Terrence Martin, Melanie Allen, Richard Neal, Howard Bujese, Dennis Stratford, Steve Ballok, Leonard Costagliola, Connecticut Office Of the Arts, and to Carolyn Raskauskas for her audio of
Yolanda Renee King's words at March For Our Lives.
Thanks to Lieutenant Colonel Henry Supchack who told me the story of his final mission as pilot of Priority Gal.
Thanks to Bill Hilly Repairs for all manner of tech and mechanical support over the course of creating this album.
Thanks to Nancy Allen for coordination and oversight of all artwork and graphics.
Thanks Maddy, Chaeli, Sasha, and all my family for your love and encouragement.

This album is dedicated to our friends David Shugarts and David Delia.
Lighthouse dedicated to Ben's Lighthouse, in memory of Benjamin Wheeler.
Please visit www.benslighthouse.org

All lyrics below.
For more info see: www.jimallyn.com

All songs Copyright 2018 Jim Allyn - All rights reserved.
This Old Guitar - Copyright 2018 - music and lyrics by Jim Allyn and David Shugarts
Jazzbo - Copyright 2018 - Mmsic by Jim Allyn and Richard Neal, lyrics by Jim Allyn

This album produced with support from Connecticut Office Of the Arts

Lyrics:

This Old Guitar

This old guitar drifted up a delta flood
and this old guitar was souped up, painted and plugged in,
drenched in the dust, and the tears of a train yard,
sung her lullabies deep in a graveyard

This old guitar been traded, pawned, and stolen,
got some scars from bar stools and car wheels rollin'
handed down, and tossed out of second floor windows,
she’s been around, been down to the crossroads

So pick her well my son, he said,
You might find she’ll choose you instead
treat her right, she’ll take you far,
remember me when you get to be a star

This old guitar, signed here by Jimi and Django,
it came down hard on a drunkard’s head in Durango
sticker on the back says Panama City
fell for a girl down there, and man she played it pretty

This old guitar rang through the walls of a prison
rang like a bell, and she’ll give you songs if you listen
deep in the wood she remembers a forest
where the stream and the meadowlark all sang in a chorus

So pick her well my son, he said,
You might find she’ll choose you instead
treat her right, she’ll take you far,
remember me when you get to be a star
remember me
when you play this old guitar


Train Calling Your Name

Better get on board
better get on board
this train is bound, she’s heading for
the land of glory, on rails of gold
got a silver engine and a light that glows

Better get on quick
better get on quick
she’s pickin’ up steam, you don’t want to miss
that freedom ride to the land of bliss
this old train is calling your name
calling your name, calling your name
and it sounds like this

See the old box car with the door ajar
if you reach your hand and let your feet fly far
you can be on board this train to glory

this old train is calling your name
calling your name, calling your name
and it sounds like this
and it sounds like this
and it sounds like this


Priority Gal

'Twas in the year of '44, the last day of July, twenty thousand feet and falling over German countryside the plane they call Priority Gal was spinning in dive and out jumped eight brave souls as one remained at the controls

Here's to all we knew so well the Bride of Mars, the Memphis Belle, Jack the Ripper, old Maxine, Careful Virgin, Sweet Seventeen, old friends and pals,
and the man who flew Priority Gal

There's a little town in Austria where they drink all night long and there's one they make called the Henry S.,
and they make it good and strong for long ago, as that plane dove,
'twas Henry at the wheel spinning as he gripped it tight somehow he set those wings aright five hundred feet above the ground with one last turn he spared that town
he spared that town

Here's to all we knew so well the Bride of Mars, the Memphis Belle, Jack the Ripper, old Maxine, Careful Virgin, Sweet Seventeen Lady Luck, the Nine-O-Nine, Desperate Journey, Bachelor's Bride, Just Plane Lonesome, Red Wing, Night Mare, Anxious Angel, my Baby, My Prayer, and to you old friends and pals and the man who flew Priority Gal


Hear the People

For one day, one day,
may our voices all be heard
and harmony hold sway
to quell the noise, to end a curse

Bird on a wire sings out
and over the street I hear the people
nothing can turn us now
and nothing can stop the day
those we have loved and lost
near as the heart are here beside us
here today, oh hear

For one life, each life,
this our sacred freeborn right
is to live in peace and grow
and to ban these brutal tools of war
So tell me what you will
and how much more this blood must spill
before it all sinks in
the thickest heads and hearts and skin

Bird on a wire sings out
and over the street I hear the people
nothing can turn us now
and nothing can stop the day
those we have loved and lost
near as the heart are here beside us
here today, oh hear

For one day, our day,
is soon to come we won't give way
'til reason she prevails
in common sense we cannot fail

Bird on a wire sings out
and over the street I hear the people
nothing can turn us now and nothing can stop the day
those we have loved and lost
near as the heart are here beside us
here today oh hear


Lindytown

Close to Twilight, down this old Appalachian road,
night falls black as the coal over Lindytown
1895, my great-grandfather waded through those streams
crystal clear flowing through the green hills and down
over Lindytown

Now there’s no one at all at the old union hall from the mines
and scattered on the floor from a lifetime before
all the papers for wages and lost time

But I remember that old school bus, the kids, and everyone
and a church bell ringing out when day was done
over Lindytown
Before Massey started blasting all these mountaintops away
The dust falling day after day
over Lindytown

Now there’s no one at all ‘cause when mountains fall it’s hard to stay
Mister Cook, I’ve been told, says we got to have the coal
but I believe with all my heart there’s a better way

Now Mama she’s got memories in rooms she can’t unlock
Now and then one opens for a moment as she walks
Here in Lindytown

Close to Twilight, down this old Appalachian Road
night falls black as the coal
But there’s one light still burning in the place she calls home
Over Lindytown


Jazzbo

Jazzbo was a boxer 1929
made the rounds from New York town
way down to Caroline
and when they raised the winner’s hand
it was Jazzbo every time
he was king of the bare knuckle ring
when he was in his prime
Jazzbo, where did the good times go?

Now he had a manager, Mister Reginald Arthur Tate
took all the money to the bank
put it down in his own name
fast women, faster cars, Jazzbo was feeling fine
and when the fight was over
Mister Tate would buy the wine
Jazzbo, where did the good times go?

It was late one night in Memphis
he was up against Two Ton Lou
Jazzbo sees Mister Tate sneaking out of Louie’s dressing room
he says, “hold on Mister Reginald, sir. Something here ain’t right.”
Tate just smiled, “can you believe it 'Bo? They want us to throw the fight.”
Jazzbo, where does the money go?

“Have a sip of water son, before they ring that bell.
Teach them boys a lesson. Old Louie don’t look so well.”
But when Jazzbo got back into the ring
the room began to spin
and he woke up three hours later
in the alley by the Salvation Army bin
Jazzbo where did the good times go?
Jazzbo where did the good times go?


Sweet New England Home

From my front door you can see for miles across the valley
to the east lies morning skies smiling on my home
On these old streets, farms and factories,
backroads and places there
and on this blue porch, facing true north,
I can breathe the morning air

Right there is where I want to be
in the hills I’ve roamed
right there with you in my
my sweet New Enland home

I’ve been down south, I’ve been way out west,
I’ve been out on the wide Atlantic
I’ve flown up high and looking down I
I knew just where my heart was planted

And see that old tree, for centuries
blooming on the fence line
in the sweet summer air she still gleams there
and on this quarter in the moonshine

Right there is where I want to be
where deep waters flow
right there in the harbor of my
my sweet New England home

From my front door
you can hear for miles across the valley
every rain song, every train gone,
down the Housatonic line

Right there is where I want to be
when that whistle blows
right there as evening falls
on my sweet New England home


Honeybee

Hey my honeybee
won’t you stay awhile with me?
‘cause if you fly away you might not find your way
back home across the sea

The flowers blooming in the field
are calling you away to steal
all the sweetness of summer deep in love
drifting light along your heels

They know how it feels to be
waiting for you my honeybee
spread your wings and let your soul fly free

The ragged winter came and went
the tides, the hurricane, the rent,
swept across the floor, yesterdays and more,
fade away the good times spent
But you, you’ve got it laid in store
the sweetest honey and I want more
so when you take your flight
I’m hoping you just might
find your way back to my door

You know how it feels to be
waiting for you my honeybee
spread your wings and let your soul fly free



Backyards Of the Brave

Johnny took his first step
as they walked across the moon
grew up with Nixon
just a little bit too soon
cops and robbers, GI Joe and the Viet Cong,
running through the backyard
where the battle lines were drawn

In the long hot summer days
rolling by like a motorcade
on the block where the kids all played
kick the can and blind man's bluff
hit the ground with your guns held up
learn to drive you just might
fall in love one day
in the backyards of the brave

Mama sat at the tv screen
all that summer long
Liddy, Mitchell, Magruder and Dean,
one last wave from the White House lawn
and we raced our Stingrays
on the driveway after dark
Daddy's still on a Mekong Hill
all we got was the purple heart

and the long hot summer days
rolling by like a motorcade
on the block where the kids all played
kick the can and blind man's bluff
hit the road with your head held up
call it home you just might find it's enough
these days
but something always stays
in the backyards of the brave


Lighthouse

Gazing on the water
a bright and golden beam
guides the weary sailor
home across the sea
safely into harbor
standing on the shore
singin’ oh my lighthouse
shine forever more

And the sun will light your windows
and the moon bring all her jewels
and the waves will sing to the watchman
and I’ll be watching too
I will watch for you

Bright across the water
steady through the storm
oh my lighthouse
shine forever more

And the sun will light your windows
and the moon bring all her jewels
and the waves will sing to the watchman
and I’ll be watching too
I will watch for you



















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