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FRONT ROOM MUSIC CATALOG
REFLECTIONS

2014 Americana

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COLORADO video

ANGEL BABY

WHEN THE RAINS CAME

REFLECTIONS

SANTA FE video

ZACHARY

LONELY CITY

NINETEEN 82 video

LAZLO'S DREAM

DRIVER CEMETARY BLUES

CREDITS:

COLORADO written by Jim Stricklan © p 2013 Front Room Music ®
Jim ~ vocal and Gretch Electromatic guitar / Mike Roberts ~ bass / Kevin Hall ~ drums / Beth Galiger ~ flute / George Coyne ~ acoustic guitars / Phil & Debi Jones ~ backing vocals.

ANGEL BABY written by Jim & Leslie Stricklan © p 2013 Front Room Music ®
Jim ~ vocals and Martin EC-28 acoustic guitar / Jamie Hilboldt ~ keyboards / George Coyne - glockenspiel and acoustic guitar / Mike Roberts - bass. (A tribute to Parker Elizabeth Madison).

WHEN THE RAINS CAME written by Jim & Leslie Stricklan © p Front Room Music ®
Jim & Leslie Stricklan ~ vocals / Jim ~ Gretch Electromatic guitar, Mike Roberts / acoustic & electric basses / Kevin Hall ~ bongos and percussion / Phil & Debi Jones ~ backing vocals.

REFLECTIONS written by Jim Stricklan © p 2013 Front Room Music ®
Jim & Leslie Stricklan ~ vocals and Martin EC-28 acoustic guitar / Greg Lowry ~ harmonica.

SANTA FE written by Jim Stricklan © p 2013 Front Room Music ®
Jim ~ vocals and Martin EC-28 acoustic guitar / Greg Lowry ~ mandolin / Jamie Hilboldt ~ piano.

ZACHARY written by Jim Stricklan © p 2013 Front Room Music ®
Jim ~ vocal and Martin EC-28 acoustic guitar / Jamie Hilboldt ~ keyboards. A tribute to Zachary Hank Williamson.

LONELY CITY written by David A. Romero © 2000 p 2013 Front Room Music ®
Jim ~ vocals and Martin EC-28 acoustic guitar / Mark Viator ~ acoustic guitar solo / Mike Roberts ~ bass.

NINETEEN 82 written by Jim Stricklan © 1983 p 2013 Front Room Music ®
Jim ~ vocals and Martin EC-28 acoustic guitar / Mark Viator ~ National steel guitar / Mike Roberts ~ bass.

LAZLO’S DREAM composed by Larry M. Rothwell © 2008 p 2013 Front Room Music ®
Jim ~ electric (rhythm) guitar, George Coyne / electric (lead) guitar and glockenspiel,Charles Ditto ~ keyboards, Doug Taylor ~ bass / James Fenner ~ congas.

DRIVER CEMETERY BLUES written by Jim Stricklan © 2002 p 2013 Front Room Music ®
Jim – vocals and Martin EC-28 acoustic guitar / Mike Roberts – bass / Kevin Hall – drums / Joey Colarusso – horns / Jamie Hilboldt - keyboards.

Photos by Leslie Stricklan © 2014
Graphic design by Mothership Art ~ Austin, TX

Recorded and mixed at Parrot Tracks Studio by George Coyne, and Ramble Heart studio by Mark Viator – Austin, TX, transferred to Parrot Tracks for final mixes. Thanks Mark and George!

Mastered by Jerry Tubb @ Terra Nova Digital Audio – Austin, TX combining digital and analog technologies. Thanks Jerry & Diane for twenty years working together, making great music!

Kokobilly Music is a subsidiary of Front Room Music ®


LINER NOTES:

JIM’S REFLECTIONS: Reflections is the third album in a series that began with Dancing me Home and Chinook Wind. All three albums include memories of people, places, and events put into song.

COLORADO ~ I lived, loved, worked, and played in Colorado during most of my twenties and thirties, and those years made a lasting impression. The Rockies are ever branded on my soul, and I hope my experiences there are well represented in my songs about Colorful Colorado.

ANGEL BABY ~ A tribute to Parker Elizabeth Madison, one of the family triplets, who went to Heaven before reaching her second birthday. I hope this song and her memory will continue to be an inspiration to us and to others who have lost little loved ones.

WHEN THE RAINS CAME ~ Watching a video of the 2003 Front Room Music festival, I was shocked to hear myself talking about the drouth (I trust Elmer Kelton's spelling of the word more than Microsoft's). My surprise was not that we’re having drouth conditions in Texas, but that its been ongoing for more than a decade and now extends through so much of the southwest.

REFLECTIONS ~ As with many of my songs, “Reflections” started in a dream…with the line “something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” I realized that this familiar statement reflects the history and content of my music, as well as our life experiences.

SANTA FE ~ Although I’ve never lived there, I have visited on numerous occasions over the past four decades, and have developed a strong attachment to this old multi-cultural Mecca. Leaving Santa Fe is a bit like leaving behind a lover you don’t know if, or when you’ll see again.

ZACHARY ~ In his twenty-eight years, Zach Williamson faced many challenges and made his presence known, chiefly by his passionate guitar playing. Zach wasn't destined for fame, but all who knew and loved him will remember how much he gave, and how humbly he gave it.

LONELY CITY ~ A song written by my friend David Romero, one of the most gifted songwriters I’m privileged to know. Dave and I played the coffee houses in Denver 40 years ago and have made a lot of music ever since. I’ve hoped to record one of his songs for a long time and it was a real honor to include this lovely piece on the album.

NINETEEN 82 ~ This was written and copyrighted during my crazy Denver daze and finally recorded, with the help of my talented guitar-picking neighbor Mark Viator. Mark used his National steel standard guitar to compliment the melodic phrasing on this country heartbreaker.

LAZLO’S DREAM ~ Composed by Larry M. Rothwell, and sometimes referred to as “Lazlo’s Lament,” this was a tune-up jam used by the Occasional Band at many of our shows. A few years after Larry passed, I gathered the other band members (Doug Taylor, George Coyne, and Chuck Ditto) at Parrot Tracks Studio to record it. James Fenner added congas.

DRIVER CEMETERY BLUES ~ This song originally appeared on the Daydreamer One CD (2001). Recently, I imagined an elaborately produced version, employing a New Orleans’ funeral march chorus part. I got more than I bargained for when Joey Colarusso added a touch of Miles Davis flavored Spanish trumpet into the mix. Driver is a real cemetery in east Texas, where most of my maternal kin have been laid to rest since shortly after the Civil War.


LYRICS:


COLORADO

I’m going back to Colorado—
where I’ve been many times before;
It’s true my home is still in Texas,
but I’ve got one foot out the door.

The sacred silence of the mountains—
can always take my breath away;
I’m going back to Colorado,
although I know that I can’t stay.

Co – lo – ra – do
won’t you welcome me back, welcome me one more time;
Co – lo – ra – do
won’t you welcome me back, welcome me one more time.

I need to see my friends in Denver—
and haunt the trails I used to ride;
I lost my heart up in the Rockies,
somewhere along the Great Divide.

I’m going back to Colorado—
back to the Aspen and the Pine;
to set my compass at the Confluence,
and rest among the Columbine.

ANGEL BABY

Angel baby, you were only passing through—
we’re only human, so how were we to know…
God needs baby angels too?

Parker Elizabeth came into this world,
one of three sweet sisters, a tiny baby girl;
her smile could melt any heart…
even though—she struggled from the start

Joyful memories that time cannot erase—
your precious life—was such a gift of grace;
Heaven’s really not so far…
the love you gave will shine forever like a star

we’re only human, so how were we to know…
Angel baby, you were only passing through—
God needs baby angels too?

We’re only human, so how were we to know…
God needs baby angels too?

WHEN THE RAINS CAME

Once there was a country
where fields were tall and green;
lots of clear blue water
filled the lakes and streams,

when the rains came, when the rains came—
Oh Lord, won’t You please bring back the rain?

Birds and fish are dying
mountains are on fire;
many people crying
and the sun keeps climbing higher,

when no rains came, no rains came—
Oh Lord, won’t You please bring back the rain?

Let wisdom triumph over greed—
help understanding fill our need;
here in a world so full of pain—
Lord, won’t you please bring back the rain?

Man made global warming,
now everything’s at risk;
consider who we’re harming,
remember all we miss…

When the rains came, when the rains came—
Oh Lord, won’t You please bring back the rain?

REFLECTIONS

Something old, something new,
something borrowed, something blue-
change the time, make it rhyme,
add a hook to every line;

Laughter is a kind of music—
souls singing to the sky;
we’re all dancing on the edge of forever,
here’s a clever little theory you can try…

Something old, something new,
something borrowed, something blue-
don’t forget to have some fun,
but learn to walk before you run;

Reflections in the mirror—
show what’s passed and what’s to come;
we’re all standing on the shoulders of giants,
wisdom of the ages, it’s the same for everyone.

Something old, something new,
something borrowed, something blue-
change the time, make it rhyme,
add a hook to every line;

Never curse, let’s rehearse,
buy some shoes that match your purse;
Something old, something new,
something borrowed, something blue-

SANTA FE

Old Santa Fe ~
your pinion fires are burning,
your pilgrims are returning,
thankful we can stay awhile in Santa Fe.

Old Santa Fe ~
light a candle for my brother,
giving hope to one another,
as we kneel and pray, in old Santa Fe.

Tomorrow we’ll be down the highway–-
somewhere waiting for a plane;
so while the mood is right—
before we say goodnight,
I’ve made a place for you in my refrain…

Old Santa Fe ~
as the golden sun surrenders
here on your adobe of splendor,
It helps to light our way, here in Santa Fe.

Old Santa Fe ~
your pinion fires are burning,
your pilgrims are returning,
thankful we can stay awhile in Santa Fe.

ZACHARY

He was my friend,
and he wore that crooked smile until the end;
back in June, when he played his fine guitar beneath the moon—
singing, “roll me mama, roll me like a wagon wheel,”
but the old laughing lady never showed and never will…
I guess she never will.

He never played the Opry,
didn’t fight in any war,
but that boy from Howard County played a pretty mean guitar—
he played a pretty mean guitar.

When he was a kid,
he saw and heard most everything we did;
survival game, coffee or something stronger for the pain—
Zak never had it easy and he didn’t stay here long;
music was his refuge and his life was like a song…
a short and troubled song.

He never played the Opry,
didn’t fight in any war,
but that boy from Howard County played a pretty mean guitar—
he played a pretty mean guitar.

He never played the Settles,
didn’t own a fancy car,
but the boy from Howard County played a pretty mean guitar—
he played a pretty mean guitar.

LONELY CITY

Another lonely night, in this lonely city—
looking to the street, I see a lonesome bird
with a broken wing, perhaps a broken spirit…
and i'm wondering if he's feeling
just a little, just a little like me.

Another lonely night, in a sea of strangers;
I look into their eyes and find no comfort there-
from their worn-down smiles, and worried faces…
and I'm wondering if they're feeling
just a little, just a little like me.

Lonely night;
well I made the choice to wander from my home;
Lonely day, 
and I miss so much what I have back there –
not a friend in sight, not a soul who cares…
if I go or stay…
in this lonely city, such a lonely city.
  
Another lonely night, in this lonely city—
looking to the street, I see a lonesome bird
with a broken wing, perhaps a broken spirit…
and i'm wondering if he's feeling
just a little, just a little like me...
in this lonely city.

NINETEEN 82

I’ve dined with the best
and drank with the rest,
eaten lots of greasy food
that was hard to digest;

But what that woman told me
and my heart believed was true—
was the hardest thing to swallow
back in nineteen 82.

If heartaches were pesos
and teardrops were francs,
I’d fill up my old pickup truck
and I’d drive her to the bank;

I made a large deposit,
traded my love for the blues—
and she didn’t pay no interest
back in nineteen 82.

It must’ve been a record year
for doing others wrong;
she came to town and stole my heart
then buddy, she was gone…

If anyone should ask you
and you don’t have a clue—
just tell ‘em that’s the way it was
in nineteen 82.

DRIVER CEMETARY BLUES

Might be June or January
when them bearers come to carry
your poor body there to bury—
got the Driver Cemetery Blues

Might be on the evening news
It ain’t like you get to choose—
when there’s nothing left to lose,
you got the Driver Cemetery Blues

Mortality is going round
puts you in the cold, cold ground;
lots of people standing round
with the Driver Cemetery Blues

Takes the women and the men
all your enemies and friends—
generations of your kin
got the Driver Cemetery Blues

Might be June or January
when them bearers come to carry
your poor body there to bury—
got the Driver Cemetery Blues


PHOTOS ON THIS PAGE:
All photos by Leslie Stricklan except photo of Zachary by Kelly Zant.

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