The Ram’s Dead, Vol. 1: Release

CONTACT:

THE RAM

ASCAP SONGWRITER: 375350750

OD SOUL, INC

ASCAP PUBLISHER: 375351159

7040 AVENIDA ENCINAS STE 104-464

CARLSBAD, CA, 92011-4652 UNITED STATES

PHONE: 760-476-0170

EMAIL: RAM(AT)ODSOUL(DOT)COM

SUBJECT:

The Ram’s Dead, Vol. 1 | New Album Release

Official Release Date: November 17, 2023

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PRESS RELEASE:

Last spring, I began reimagining and recording some of my favorite Grateful Dead songs. My new album, “The Ram’s Dead, Vol. 1” is an excursion into one of the my most profound musical influences. The lyrics of Robert Hunter and the guitar style of Jerry Garcia.

ABOUT THIS ALBUM:

The Ram’s Dead, Vol.1

Garcia (and Hunter) were some of the best damn storytellers to have ever lived. Even so, I’m trying hard to come up with a good reason why I decided to start recording Grateful Dead covers when I have more than enough original music to finish up. Perhaps the love of the music itself is enough. Music always knows where to go, it’s up to us to follow the signals, sometimes taking the scenic route is the best way to get to where we need to be.

Me and My Uncle

I know John Phillips wrote Me and My Uncle, but it’s one of the great live Grateful Dead songs from their vast song catalog. It’s one of the first songs I began to play when I moved out to California. Now that I think about it, it’s the very song that helped form my first band in the state of California. All that I have musically is an extension of those early backyard jams with the Hunt brothers and their families. Music built on a lifelong friendship.

I hope my musical re-imagination of the song sets your spirits on fire.

LYRICS

Me and my uncle went ridin’ down, South Colorado, West Texas bound
We stopped over in Santa Fe, that being the point, just about halfway
And you know it was the hottest part of the day

And I took the horses up to the stall , went to the barroom, ordered drinks for all
Three days in the saddle, you know my body hurt, it being summer, I took off my shirt
And I tried to wash off some of that dusty dirt

West Texas cowboys, they was all around, wheat, liquor and money, they loaded down
So soon after payday, no, it seemed a shame, you know my uncle, he starts playin’ the game
Hey now, high-low jack and the winner take the hand

My uncle start winning, the cowboys got sore, one of them called him, and then two more
Accused him of cheatin’, oh no, it couldn’t be, I know my uncle, he’s as honest as me
Hey now, I’m as honest as a Denver man can be, that’s right

One of them cowboys, he starts to draw, and I shot him down, Lord, he never saw
Shot me another, hot damn, he won’t grow old, in the confusion, my uncle grabbed the gold
And we hightailed it down to Mexico

Now I love those cowboys, I love their gold, love my uncle, God rest his soul
Taught me good, Lord, taught me all I know, taught me so well, that I grabbed that gold
I left his dead ass there by the side of the road, yeah

Scarlet Fire

These two are easily my favorite songs to see live when the Dead were an active touring band. I remember on night Garcia’s solo was pure scorched earth, divine fire stolen from the god’s given to man as a gift. This particular recording, along with Me and My Uncle is the first time I was able to feature local Pedal Steel player Aaron Brownwood. Pour yourself a drink, roll up a smoke, sit back, relax and enjoy the music.

LYRICS

Scarlet Begonias
As I was walkin’ ’round Grosvenor Square
Not a chill to the Winter but a nip to the air
From the other direction, she was calling my eye
It could be an illusion, but I might as well try, might as well try

She had rings on her fingers and bells on her shoes
And I knew, without askin’, she was into the blues
She wore scarlet begonias tucked into her curls
I knew right away she was not like other girls, other girls

In the thick of the evening, when the dealing got rough
She was too pat to open and too cool to bluff
As I picked up my matches and was closing the door
I had one of those flashes I’d been there before, been there before

F#
Well, I ain’t always right, but I’ve never been wrong
Seldom turns out the way it does in a song
Once in a while, you get shown the light
In the strangest of places if you look at it right

Well, there ain’t nothing wrong with the way she moves
Scarlet begonias or a touch of the blues
And there’s nothing wrong with the look that’s in her eyes
Had to learn the hard way to let her pass by, let her pass by

Wind in the willow’s playin’ “Tea For Two”
The sky was yellow, and the sun was blue
Strangers stoppin’ strangers just to shake their hand
Everybody’s playing in the heart of gold band, heart of gold band

Fire On The Mounatian
Long-distance runner, what you standin’ there for?
Get up, get up, get out of the door
You’re playin’ cold music on the barroom floor
Drowned in your laughter and dead to the core
There’s a dragon with matches that’s loose on the town
Takes a whole pail of water just to cool him down, yeah

Fire, fire on the mountain

Almost ablaze, still you don’t feel the heat
It takes all you got just to stay on the beat
You say it’s a livin’, we all gotta eat
But you’re here alone, there’s no one to compete
If Mercy’s a business, I wish it for you
More than just ashes when your dreams come true

Fire, fire on the mountain

Long distance runner, what you holdin’ out for?
Caught in slow motion in a dash through the door
The flame from your stage has now spread to the floor
You gave all you had, why you wanna give more?
The more that you give, the more it will take
To the thin line beyond which you really can’t fake, yeah

Fire, fire on the mountain

Songs of Wanderlust: Release

CONTACT:

THE RAM

ASCAP SONGWRITER: 375350750

OD SOUL, INC

ASCAP PUBLISHER: 375351159

7040 AVENIDA ENCINAS STE 104-464

CARLSBAD, CA, 92011-4652 UNITED STATES

PHONE: 760-476-0170

EMAIL: RAM(AT)ODSOUL(DOT)COM

SUBJECT:

Songs of Wanderlust | New Album Release

Official Release Date: October 20, 2023

THERAMMUSIC.com

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ARTIST PRESS KIT

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PRESS RELEASE:

The Ram’s new album, “Songs of Wanderlust” is a collection of original songs going back to his earliest writings. Stories of life, travel, and family.

ABOUT THIS ALBUM:

Motor Kine

Imagine a Jeep Cherokee packed with close friends and surfboards deep in Baja, 2 hours south of Ensenada, Mexico. We embarked on a strategic strike mission to score the surf of a lifetime. In the distance, coming up fast in the rear view mirror is a huge dust cloud. We pulled off and looked back in awe as 2 super trucks and a few other race vehicles passed us by. It’s Baja 1000 season, the annual race is coming up and preparations are in order.

Every time I sing the chorus, it transports me back to that trip and the countless other excursions into San Diego’s backyard and spiritual cousin, Baja Mexico.

Race down the Pacific Ocean, run down those Mexican sands Just for nothing, just because I want to, gonna fly all across these lands

Here’s recorded footage (2008) of me singing the song from words freshly written in a notebook in the garage of one of my best friends. It was the first time I wrote a song that had the power to close a show properly.

I had just written Motor Kine, and took it to the Hunt brothers. If you look behind me you’ll see two taps of a converted kegerator fridge. Two flavors of beer, frozen mugs in the ice chest.

LYRICS

Dusty roads through the canyon gorge
Like a bullet baby how we run
Steer me babe with a gentle hand
On into that old boy sun

I am your Motor Kine
I know you’ve seen me riding
Greased back I shine like lighting
Leg up mamma and take a ride

Dusty roads through the canyon gorge
Like a bullet baby how we run
Steer me babe with a gentle hand
On into that old boy sun

Your desert is of the rarest beauty
I’ve never seen the like
Your sands they give me my water
Your sun keeps me alive

Race down the pacific ocean
Run down those Mexico sands
Just for nothing babe, just cause I want to
Gonna fly all across these lands

Motor Kine don’t take low octane
Get yourself out and buy me some premium fuel
Motor Kine don’t run on that cheap stuff
Ease your hand mamma, keep me cool

Race down the pacific ocean
Run down those Mexico sands
Just for nothing babe, just cause I want to
Gonna fly all across these lands

Do It Right

I love this song. It sounds like something my father or brother would say, such a cool guy. When my oldest child was a baby, I’d play what would become “Do It Right” as he was chewing on his knuckles and feet. I could see my father in that little man, even as an infant. It seemed like every time I was being productive as a songwriter, I was also waking infants from their needed sleep. My wife would come out with a baby, and it was up to me to lull him back to sleep. Those years went too fast, every day we’ve got to appreciate what we have. It’s tragedy when life takes our loved ones (of previous generations) right about the same time we have start to have kids. 

This song came into being during the last months of my father’s life. To this day he is missed. The lyrics are simple, appreciate the ones you love. Squeeze them with everything you have, every chance you get, because they might not be here tomorrow. 

LYRICS

Ummm, that’s what I’m talking about

Get after the sun, get after the sun
Get after the sun, get after the sun
Get after it, get, get after it
Get after it, get, get after it
Get after it, get, get after it

No sight of the man on the interstate
Spent a mess of time truckin’ on the road today
I got a one-way ticket babe, the diesel down
And I’m blowing off some doors as I pass each town
As I pass each town, as I pass each town
As I pass each town, laying that diesel down
Going down, down, going down

Let me tell you
If you’re gonna do it, do it right
Grab your little woman, baby treat her right
If you’re gonna do it, do it right
Grab your little woman, treat her right
Shore as you’re born

Let me tell you
Get after it, get, get after it
Get after it, get, get after it
Get after it, get, get after it

Like a shotgun kick, I move as fast as I can
Yes that’s the signature style of a do right man
I know every action means the word to you
That’s why I’m trucking this load to bring the goods to you
Bring the goods to you, bring the goods to you
Bring the goods to you, baby bring the good to you

If you’re gonna do it, do it right
Grab your little woman, baby treat her right
If you’re gonna do it, do it right
Grab your sweetheart, treat her right

Bring it down, baby
Down, down, down
Down, down, down
Bring it down

Well, it’s late at night, but I need to know
Just what kind of love you’ve just a got in store
I know outside is just a drizzling rain
So won’t you start a fire in that hearth again
In your hearth again, in your hearth again
In your hearth again, light a fire in your hearth again

I say yeah, I say yeah
If you’re gonna do it, do it right
Grab your little woman, baby treat her right
If you’re gonna do it, do it right
Grab your little woman, treat her right

Get down, do it right

It’s a Saturday Night

Years ago I read Bobby Key’s memoir “Every Night’s a Saturday Night”, shortly after enjoying Keith Richards’ “Life”. My friend Doug visiting from Denver left the book with me, which I recommend to all fans of the Stones. Bobby Keys was from Texas, where they live and breathe the philosophy of giving it everything you’ve got, regardless of what night of the week it is. It’s a blue collar way to look and the world, and it’s how I was raised. Pensyl-texas, Pennsyl-tucky, well shit there you have it. Doing your best, giving 100% is all that’s required when doing anything. The unwritten part of it, is being true to your word. It’s what makes our work sacred. It’s what makes the stage sacred.

As a performer, I used to dread stepping up onto stage. Almost paralyzing fear and anxiety came right before each and every gig. It came out of nowhere, I guess from the fear of being under prepared. This fueled incessant practice and woodshedding, because the only way to defeat fear is hard work. These days, I prepare as much as I can, but I try to enjoy the musicians I’m working with. If you think about it too much, messing up becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. When I surf, its pure joy, I’m not thinking about anything, just laughing my ass off.

Yep I’m surfing here, but as I recall you could hear me laughing for miles when my buddy ate it in the tube and I took off on the wave that was supposed to be his. I didn’t think at all, just let go and enjoyed the experience.

LYRICS

Out of bed in the evening
Just as city folks are leaving
See ’em heading back home from their nine to five
My pretty baby says
Why you always got to tease me
Always in the mood afternoon delight
(Get up and get over here)

Steam from the shower
Brings me back to my senses
I take a deep breath and open my eyes
She’s got me feeling so good
Just like a man on a mission
Livin’ every single day like it’s a Saturday night

Every single day, every single day
Every single day like it’s a Saturday night

Nights like these
Are one in a million
Doesn’t have to end, we can watch the sunrise
I just want to say
Thank you and I love you
Always make me feel so so good inside
(So good inside)

What’s your pleasure
On this finest evening
Tell me your dreams, we can bring them to life
You’ve got me feeling so good
Just like a man on a mission
Livin’ every single day like it’s a Saturday night

Every single day, every single day
Every single day like it’s a Saturday night

Like everything that’s good
This must come to an ending
Leaving everything I’ve got up on this stage tonight
When the lights come back on
Party people take their leave and
I hope you make it home safely and satisfied

I want to say it once again
Thank you and I love you
Always make me feel so so good inside

You’ve got me feeling so good
Just like a man on a mission
Livin’ every single day like it’s a Saturday night

Every single day, every single day
Every single day like it’s a Saturday night

New Day Dawn 

One morning in Upstate New York found me on a rooftop drinking a little wine, and smoking some weed with the surviving members of a party from the night before. It was the day my cousin Salty graduated college by Lake Seneca in western New York State.

Ain’t no right, ain’t no wrong, when you sit and watch a new day dawn

Visiting any college town was always an irresistible proposition during the years I went to university. Each college town was a new group of people of the same age group, making something out of nothing. Little else mattered back then. Every time I sing this song I laugh about the policeman who tried to talk us down from that roof. First threatening us, almost slipping off himself, then cussing us as he departed into his frustrated morning duties of crushing doughnuts.

LYRICS

Ain’t no right ain’t no wrong
When you sit and watch a new day dawn
Ain’t no wrong ain’t no right
Been sittin’ since the dark of night

Walked myself to the edge of town
Made damn sure no one follow me down
Yes and to keep myself a little company
Well I got a little hipper from the whiskey family

But it don’t
No it don’t
Yes it don’t
Matter much now anyway

All alone
All alone
One and only
Let me get my thinking straight

Just cut the cable and the TV screen
Just a rabid dog barking back at me
So many voices chiming through my head
Can’t put a face to all the words just said

Get more listening to the wind and rain
Or the rumble of a diesel train
Cause a mans a man, a fact’s a fact
Those are lies and we can’t be lied to like that

But it don’t
No it don’t
Yes it don’t
Matter much now anyway

All alone
All alone
One and only
Let me get my thinking straight

Can’t tell a lie through a song
Expect folks to listen all that long
Guitar note catch a breeze and off it goes
Who’s going to catch them I don’t know

Over top a voice gonna hit that note
You know it’s coming from a bluesman’s throat
Thats my version of a TV screen
You see it doesn’t have to be all obscene

But it don’t
No it don’t
Yes it don’t
Matter much now anyway

All alone
All alone
One and only
Let me get my thinking straight

Cut Loose

As mentioned above, my family illuminates the darkness around me. My heroes are mostly from the generation that raised my generation. Those women and men were equals, most of the families were large, and everything was learned by interaction and observation. Only a few of the old timers from my family are left, which is the heartbreaking reality of life. Just at the point one generation achieves fiscal security/prosperity they witness their parents get ravaged by time. Loosing my heroes is, and will always be devastating. Writing down and singing about the experience, is the way I cope with the reality before me. It’s for all of them, disbursed across the continental United States.

This song is a prayer to my Aunt Sally. She along with so many of her peers gave me every thing that I am today. A rare gift that I will always be grateful to have earned in the eyes of my beloved aunt.

LYRICS

She always loved him without question

She cut’em loose for him to find his way

Everything inside, the good in his life

Part of her thats still alive today

Her love built an institution

Her touch was just a healing hand of grace

When he was looking for a just a little inspiration

All he had to do is say her name

Chorus | Hear her calling… She told him kick on back and cut loose

Ain’t no use in talking

When you know what you gotta do

Talking is procrastination

You got to kick on back and cut loose

He set out for the Pacific Ocean

Nothing gonna get in his way

So exicted ‘bout the destination

Forgot about the one that stayed

He’d always thought she’d live forever

Kept him working towards a better place

Everything done with the sole intention

To share with her, then the news came

Chorus | Hear her calling…

Ain’t no use in talking

When you know what you gotta do

Talking is procrastination

You got to kick on back and cut loose

It’s been so many years

He lost count some time ago

All the faces and places

Melt like the late snow

Been away from town for so many years

They hardly recognized his face

Take him back down Mississippi River

Take him back, to his mamma’s place

Ragtop Car

My eldest brother owned a ragtop Barracuda from the 1960s. It was the chariot that took us on so many roadtrips and concerts in the 1980s through the early 1990s. This was the era where I traded my Pennsylvania farm raised roots for a home base in New York State, and eventually NYC. If any song contains the secret to all other songs on this album, or contains the glue that binds all the songs together, it is this one.

Some say that the love of WANDERLUST Is just another live that won’t amount to much A man born with rambling shoes, is just another man born to loose

During his Rolling Thunder tour, there was a filmed interview where Dylan said “you don’t go out on the road to find yourself, you go out to create something or create yourself”.  His words were a clear correction to the widely misunderstood novels of Kerouac, those uniquely American books were my generation’s (Generations X) biblical texts, travel was part of being an American.  

Wanderlust brought me to live in America’s greatest city, and it’s what forced me to leave 6 years later. Time and time again, it’s given me life changing opportunity, while it has also gotten me into heaps of trouble. I wouldn’t trade these experiences for anything else. Wanderlust, storytelling, sending news back to the family from the road, set the stage for all else to come.

LYRICS

Some say that the love of the wanderlust
Is just a life that won’t amount to much
A man born with rambling shoes
Is just another man born to loose
I want to set the record straight
Before I hit the road today

Got a ragtop car
Enough gas to take us far
Enough away
Because I plan to drive all day
When the evening comes
We’ll be like loaded guns
Out in the night
Shooting stars out the sky, baby

When the blue sky’s lost in a concrete maze
I get the feeling, I wanna get lost for days
Lace up my rambling shoes
Get a chance to beat the 3rd street blues
Race up the Taconic Parkway
Drive until the break of day

Got a ragtop car
Enough gas to take us far
Enough away
Because I plan to drive all day
When the evening comes
We’ll be like loaded guns
Out in the night
Shooting stars out the sky, baby

I got myself a roadie in my hand
Talking a cool Pabst Blue Ribbon in a can
I’m not trying to be tough
Just priming up the motor of love
Gotta loosen up
Here come my baby just a strutting that stuff

She got a ragtop car
Enough gas to take us far
Enough away
Because I plan to drive all day
When the evening comes
We’ll be like loaded guns
Out in the night
Shooting stars out the sky, baby

Outside the City

This song brings me back to Springsteen’s poetic introduction. It’s my heart, torn from my chest, still beating because of its deep connection to my family. The beautiful woman crying, is my grandmother Dorothy. The last time I held her was in coastal North Carolina on the night before I flew back to California with my then young family 15 years ago. She knew what I did not, called me to her room before bed, held me, and just wept. Tears flow thinking about that night, while at the same time, I smile with everything I have knowing how lucky I was to have her as a grandmother. 

A few weeks after I was back to life and work in California I received news of her passing. All of us were devastated, but knew it was not a life to be mourned but to be celebrated. She lived to over 100, maintaining her excellent wit and humor all the way to the end. I can still feel her. I can still hear her. She was my girl. We’d spend so much time laughing, and smiling with each other. Here eyes always said, ‘I love you boy’ without even having to say anything.

She is where I am from. When I feel her presence, I am always home.

LYRICS

About an hour, hour outside the city
You can start, start to hear the countryside
Sounds nothing like guns, let me tell you son
Sounds just like a beautiful woman crying

Yeah baby if you listen, listen closely
Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the tears flowing from her eyes
Like a rain it keep on, keep on, keep on blowing
Just blowing, blowing down the mountain side

When she comes to embrace you
Got to heed, heed that call son
If you try to ignore it
Deep down, it’s going to burn you up

Life will never ever quite be the same
When you learn to hear the wind call your name
Beck and call to you
And your heart Lord, tells you, the winds speaks the gospel truth
Yes your heart tells you, the winds speaks the gospel truth