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Lyrics for this CD

FRONT ROOM MUSIC CATALOG
LIVE AT THE SETTLES HOTEL
with Sally Townes, Leslie Stricklan, Butch Hause & Sarah Lincoln
limited edition 2014

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INTRODUCTION by Tumbleweed Smith

COLORADO

HOLLY

SMALL BETRAYAL

BETTER DAYS featuring Sally Townes

SETTLES HOTEL

THERE STANDS THE GLASS

LLANO ESTACADO

HOME ON THE RANGE

HARD TIMES featuring Sarah Lincoln

ZACHARY

BUFFALO ALONG THE CIMARRON with Leslie Stricklan

WHEN THE RAINS CAME

G JAM

CREDITS:


Jim Stricklan - vocals and guitars
Sally Townes - vocals, keyboards, harmonica
"Ranger" Butch Hause - vocals, bass, and guitars
Leslie Stricklan – vocals, percussion & rain stick
Sarah Lincoln - vocals
Tumbleweed Smith - emcee

Better Days written and performed by Sally Townes © 2010 Cat's Meow Music, used by permission.
Llano Estacado written by Hank Williamson © 2006, used by permission
There Stands the Glass written by A. Greisham, Mary Jean Shurtz, and Russ Hull, used by permission.
Hard Times written by Stephen Foster, public domain.
Home on the Range, traditional, arranged by Jim Stricklan.
All other songs were written by JS © 2014, Front Room Music.

Recorded live at the Settles Hotel - Cosden Room, Big Spring TX on November 16, 2013 with engineering by "Ranger" Butch Hause.
Mixed and mastered by "Ranger" Butch Hause at The Ranger Station, Berthoud, CO.

Photos by Rick and Lori Stricklan © 2014

Graphic design by Mothership Art ~ Austin, TX

Kokobilly Music is a subsidiary of Front Room Music ®








LINER NOTES:

This concert was a reunion show for Sally Townes and me; we had played together in "The Mojo Hand" for several months, back in 1967. We went our separate ways - me heading north to Denver, while Sally became a blues/R&B diva in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Luckily, our paths crossed again (2009-2010) here in Austin, where we collaborated in the recording studio and on many remarkable video projects. Sally's stylish keyboards and soulful vocals helped make this concert a unique musical event. Her original song "Better Days" is featured on the CD, and her artistry added a magical touch to many other songs. Sally lives in the mountains near Albuquerque and still performs regularly. Visit Sally's website at sallytownes.com.

Paul Gregg, the original bassman for the Mojo Hand, died in an auto accident many years ago; however, we were delighted for our reunion band to be joined by "Ranger" Butch Hause, my long-time musical pal and musician extraordinare of Colorado. We were also blessed to have songbird Sarah Lincoln, our friend, and Butch's lovely wife, seranade us on Stephen Foster's "Hard Times".

My wife, Leslie Stricklan, shared her many percussion talents throughout the program, and joined me on vocals for "Buffalo Along the Cimarron", and "When the Rains Came." Leslie is also an excellent photographer and has made slide-show videos for the songs "Colorado," and "Santa Fe," now on You Tube.














Thanks to the legendary Tumbleweed Smith for his gracious introductory remarks.
Kudos to cousins Rick and Lori Stricklan for their excellent photos and continued prayers.
Special thanks to the audience, family and friends, for your enthusiastic support.

This concert was recorded live at the historic Hotel Settles in Big Spring TX, which was restored to its 1930's granduear a few years ago--after being closed for more than two decades. Around 1990, I was inspired to write the song "Settles Hotel," using the metaphor of its abandoned state, yet "still standing tall". It was a dream come true for me to perform at this landmark, in the town I called home for two brief periods of my youth. Our thanks to the staff of Hotel Settles for fabulous accommodations and for helping make our concert run smoothly.





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.

HOLLY

Out on the Utah desert,
Somethin’s hot, besides the weather,
Water and sand and the mountains kiss the sky –
Hot and dirty, we laid it all down,
By a lake, where the rocks were red and brown…
And woke in the mornin’ with the sunlight in our eyes.
Watched those houseboats come sailin’ in,
While we swam in the bay, and baked our skin…
Down in the marina we could drink beer in the shade;
Traded some smoke for a shower
And prayed out loud for the sunset hour –
I met a girl there, her blond hair was in braids.

Holly, I wanted to stay there and show you who I am,
Somethin’ in your smile girl told me I should;
I laid in my sleeping bag that night out on the sand,
Thinkin’ I would love Holly….if Holly would.

The desert was hot in the mornin’
As we piled in that car and drove away yawnin’
I wanted to turn back, but I couldn’t make it right…
Maybe you were just high on my songs;
I guess I might have read your signals wrong…
Was it something I didn’t say that made you say “Goodnight”?

Holly, I wanted to stay there and show you who I am,
Somethin’ in your smile girl told me I should;
I laid in my sleeping bag that night out on the sand,
Thinkin’ I would love Holly….if Holly would.

I would love Holly,
I would love Holly,
I would love Holly, if Holly would.

SMALL BETRAYAL

Brenda was a waitress at a Market Street café,
I never knew her all that well and still I have to say-
there was so much more to Brenda, than just what meets the eye;
and brother that was sure enough to make a grown man cry.

Brenda served hot chocolate and the local soup de jour,
she made a starving singer feel like Elvis out on tour-
it didn’t matter who you were or where your fortunes lay;
tinker, tailor, music maker, her smile could make your day.

Brenda had dark curly hair and never put on airs,
poetry in motion, oh, she must have felt those stares-
it took me weeks to find the courage, just to ask her out;
we sat there counting stars and wondered what it’s all about.

The moon it was in Gibbous on a late September eve,
the aspen were already kissed by snow upon their leaves-
my simple poem that won her heart lay crumpled on the floor;
an old rosewood piano standing quietly by the door.

A moment’s small betrayal caused my sudden fall from grace,
and I, who only yesterday, secure in her embrace—
am left to ponder my mistake, endure the lonely night;
and suffer unrequited love, too late to make it right.


SETTLES HOTEL

After all of these decades I’m still standing tall.
Somehow I’ve survived the old wrecker’s ball.
These dusty sweet memories are all that will last.
I’m haunted by voices (faces on reprise) somewhere in the past.

Where are the friends who were always around,
And left me alone in the middle of town?
I’m empty inside like an old hollow shell—
Lord sometimes I feel like the Settles Hotel.

I’ve had enough lovers to fill up these rooms,
Bathed in the glow of a chandelier moon-
With my name up in lights, they would all come to me
But now they drive by like they don’t even see.

Where are the friends who were always around,
And left me alone in the middle of town?
I’m empty inside but I’m holding up well—
Lord sometimes I feel like the Settles Hotel.

Once I was open to strangers; oh but that was a long time ago.

After all of these decades I’m still standing tall.
Somehow I’ve survived the old wrecker’s ball.
These dusty sweet memories are all that will last.
I’m haunted by voices (faces on reprise) somewhere in the past.

Where are the friends who were always around,
And left me alone in the middle of town?
I’m empty inside like an old hollow shell—
Lord sometimes I feel like the Settles Hotel.


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.


BUFFALO ALONG THE CIMARRON

Zipped up the suitcase and we grabbed our traveling shoes,
Hopped on an air-o-plane to lose these working blues,
In an hour or two, me and you’ll be in New Mexico—
Land of Enchantment, where the tall pine and lilac bushes grow.

I’m shedding my skin out where the mountains meet the plains,
And everyday troubles are as rare as desert rain,
Buy some jewelry, from the natives on the square—
See some galleries, drink in the beauty there.

We’ll spend the night in the arms of Santa Fe,
where the turquoise sky and silver moon light up the Blessing Way,
Oh, we’re needing our freedom like the buffalo along the Cimarron.

Up to Colorado breathing in the cool, clean air,
Where the Heavens hug the Rockies in an ancient love affair,
My heart’s convinced my watch, now we’re back on mountain time—
Back to the rapture, to the scene of the crime.

Jamming in Denver with a host of precious friends,
I hope these memories and this music never ends,
I’ve lived my life in the shadow of a song—
Can’t stand goodbyes, so I’ll have to say so long.

Paradise lost and found in the blinking of an eye,
May the circle be unbroken on the ground and in the sky,
Oh, we’re needing our freedom like the buffalo along the Cimarron.

Viewing Mt. Evans from the castle of a friend,
I’ll soon be pouring out these feelings deep within,
Oh, I’m needing my freedom, like the buffalo along the Cimarron;
Yes, we’re needing our freedom like the buffalo along the Cimarron.

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?

PHOTOS ON THIS PAGE:
All photos by Rick and Lori Stricklan.

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