call of the west

Generated 2007/06/08 20:03:13

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Tomorrow
Lost Weekend
Factory
Look At Their Way
Hands Of Love
Mexican Radio
Spy World
They Don't Want Me
On Interstate 15
Call Of The West
Exercise
Footnotes

Wake up in the morning, pull myself outta bed
Think about the night before and everything I said
I've made lots of promises I know that I can't keep

So I'll do 'em tomorrow
That seems like a pretty good idea to me

Life is movin' faster––I can feel it everyday
I have trouble keepin' up with what other people say
Big problems in the world, my life's just a social swirl
But I'll do it tomorrow
That seems like a pretty good idea to me
What's wrong with tomorrow?
I'm watchin' him, and who's watchin' me?

Out my window there's nothin' where a city used to be
Phone line dead, the power gone, there's nothin' on TV
Can't understand what happened to all the plans I made
I turn on the radio and hear the signal fade
(It's pretty loud in here...)
But I'll do it tomorrow

Life is moving faster, I can feel it every day
So I'll do it tomorrow
That seems like a pretty good idea to me
What's wrong with tomorrow?
I'm watchin' him, and who's watchin' me?

I'll do it tomorrow
Hope I've got enough time
I'll do it tomorrow
And things'll be fine
I'll do it tomorrow
Can't spare today
I'll do it tomorrow
That'll be okay
I'll do it tomorrow
I'll do it tomorrow
Let's do it tomorrow
I'll stop the clock
Let's do it tomorrow
Talk, talk, talk
Let's do it tomorrow
I'll do it tomorrow
What's wrong with tomorrow
It just goes on now, y'know,
I'll do it tomorrow
The money starts rollin' in, yah.

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

Drivin' outta Vegas in their automobile
She was in the back seat while he was at the wheel
With the windows wide open

All the money from the store, they'd gambled away
He said "the best laid plans often go astray"

She took the page of a book and turned it down
She lit a cigarette, she didn't make a sound

"And I know, if we'd had just one more chance," he said
"I know, we'd finally hit the big one at last", she said

Chorus:
(Instead of) another lost weekend
Lost weekend
Another lost weekend
Lost weekend

"Pull over soon," she said, "it's no big deal,
You can take any exit that you happen to feel
Is the right one"
The right one

As she slowly blew her smoke out the rear wind vent
She thought back on all the letters she'd sent
For a contest to be on a quiz game show

"Maybe I shoulda stayed in school," he said
"Yeah, I know––start your own business cleanin' swimming pools," she said

Chorus repeat x2

She leaned over the front seat and twiddled with the radio dial
She looked out the window, saw a sign, and both of them began to smile
"There's a place we can stay at... it's up another mile."

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

Now, I know I had somethin' to say
But the problem is, to say somethin'
Uh, you've got to say it
And I still don't remember a thing
Since the funny gas come out of that pipe next to me
I guess they didn't okay it
Now I remember––did I tell ya?––cut my thumb off
At the knuckle on a broken band saw
Didn't see the belt buckle or the blade slip
And I remember when the doctor did it up with a stitch
Funny thing––still got a scratch that I can't itch
Where my thumb was

Well, I've brought the same piece of chicken in a bag
To work every day for the last twenty years or so
And I really don't mind, work assembly line
Got an intercom blastin' the news and the latest on the baseball scores
Come around every Friday, well, I get a paycheck
Take the same road home that I come to work on––heck
It's a living

Chorus:
And I've got another factory back home
I've got a barbecue, pink Mustang, fenders chrome
And at nine o'clock I sit there in my chair
And I don't know why I lose my hair
And then I go to...
And then I go to...
And then I go to sleep

Well, I like to know what I'm doin' when I do it
And I do what I'm doin' 'cause I don't know what to do
When I'm not doin' it
Sometimes I remember as a boy my father told me
I could grow up To be anything I wanted
Anything
And every day at lunch I still look for my lost
Digit––still got that funny scratch
So maybe when I find it I can itch it
And I got a little rubber pool in the backyard
For the kids to wade in
And I? I? I... I, I, I.

Chorus:
I've got another factory back home
I got a little backyard, pink Mustang, fenders chrome
At nine o'clock I'm in my chair sat down
Just lately, when my wife talks back to me I slap 'er around
And then I go to...
And then I go to...
And then I go to sleep

Whoah-oh-oh-oh! until fade

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

Look at the way they're walking
All these people around are givin' me looks
Keep a big secret on the quiet side
Where's the nearest place to hide?

Chorus:
Look at their way

Been around long enough now
And they'll be around after everyone's gone
A mother makes love to her only son
Turn on the lights and watch them run

Chorus:
Look at their way
Look at their way
Look at their way on the floor today

All together now they'll rub their long legs
And play a sad melody, the only one they know
To air and earth and the quiet side
And the mind built a million years ago

Chorus:
Look at their way
Look at their way
Look at their way on the calendar
Look at their way
Look at their way
Look at their way on the floor today

notes

The lyrics sheet has an extra two lines that aren't in the recorded version: "(It's grab and chew, that's all they ever do / A million born when just one dies)" This makes it pretty clear the song is about cockroaches.

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

On a crowded street, or from a passing car
I can see the world from where I am
People stand in line so they can buy their things
They buy a vegetable or a can
I taste the water and the water tastes hot
I taste the water and the water tastes hot

Chorus:
Hands of love
They keep on slipping
Hands of love
They keep on gripping

My home, it might as well just be a cave
And the ones next door don't talk to me
And when I'm lyin' in bed at night, I hear the sounds
Of the sirens and the dogs and the people screaming
I taste the water and the water tastes hot
I taste the water and the water tastes hot

Chorus repeat 1.5x

I taste the water and the water tastes hot
I taste the water and the water tastes hot
Whistle down the... whistle down the road
(Hands of love, they keep on slipping)
Whistle down the... whistle down the road
(Hands of love, they keep on gripping)
Whistle down the... whistle down the road
(Hands of love, they keep on slipping)
Hands of love repeat until fade

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

I feel a hot wind on my shoulder
And the touch of a world that is older
I turn the switch and check the number
I leave it on when in bed I slumber
I hear the rhythms of the music
I buy the product, and never use it
I hear the talking of the deejay
Can't understand––just what does he say?

Chorus:
I'm on a mexican radio
I'm on a mexican, woah-ho, radio

I dial it in and tune the station
They talk about the U.S. inflation
I understand just a little
No comprendé, it's a riddle

Chorus repeat x2

I wish I was in Tijuana
Eating barbecued iguana
I'd take requests on the telephone
I'm on a wavelength far from home
I feel a hot wind on my shoulder
I dial it in from south of the border
I hear the talking of the deejay
Can't understand––just what does he say?

Chorus repeat x4

Radio... radio...
Radio... radio.
Radio... radio...
Radio... radio.

Chorus repeat x4

Radio... radio...
Radio... radio.
(WHAT DOES HE SAY!)
Radio... radio. repeat until fade

notes

Sometimes Stan says "Oleo" instead of Radio. Oleo is slang for margarine. Wacky fun!

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

spoken
Hello, hello, this is Monkeywrench, come in,
Calling Bunny-Hutch headquarters.
Tell Spooky Greyhound « the bus stopped there for a guy. »
Tell Mister Megan to check on the shark pit¹
And I thought this was a glamorous job.

Well, there's that man who's got everything that he needs
And when the world is falling in he'll never bleed
He goes by Jones in Istanbul and Smith in Peru
His job's never through

It's time to start this little game of cat and mouse
And try to keep one step ahead––there's strangers in the house
His watch is really a radio, his gun a pen
He knows that it's all gone, no mom, nobody wins

Chorus:
Spy world x16

spoken
Shaken, not stirred, okay?
I'm really tired of wearing these sunglasses.

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

They don't want me
They used to want me
But they don't want me
Anymore
I used to belong
Now I don't belong
It's not the same song
Anymore
We used to play games
We used to trade names
But we don't play games
Anymore
They don't want me
They used to want me
But they don't want me
Anymore...

Now I'm all alone
No one left to help chip the stone
And now this awful weed begins to grow
'Cause they don't want me

repeat until fade:
They don't want me
(We don't want you)
They used to want me
Not anymore

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

(instrumental)

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

He got the high sign so he jumped a bus
Along the roads that wind on through
The hot Mojave and the Jericho
He'd start his whole life anew
And what he left behind he hadn't valued
Half as much as some things
He never knew

Right around sundown...
He got dropped off on a street in town
Where a grey old man looked him up and down and said
"Son, this ain't no western movie matinee
You're a long way off from yippie-yi-yay
'Cause I can tell at a glance you're not from 'round these parts
You've got a green look about'cha––that's a gringo for starts
Sometimes the only thing a western savage understands
Are whiskey and rifles and an unarmed man
Like you"

"So you gotta keep on the move!
Don't let that fancy paint job fool you!"
Then the old timer pulled him close and said

You've got a long way, I know
You've got a longer drive ahead
Through the bones of the buffalo
Through the claims of the western dead, and––
Just like the spokes of a wheel
You'll spin 'round with the rest
You'll hear the drums and the brush of steel
You'll hear the call of the west, call of the west
You'll hear the call of the west, call of the west

spoken
Harshly awakened by the sound of six rounds of light-caliber rifle fire
Followed minutes later by the booming of nine rounds from a heavier rifle
But you can't close off the wilderness
He heard the snick of a rifle bolt
And found himself peering down the muzzle
Of a weapon held by a drunken liquor store owner
"There's a conflict," he said, "there's a conflict
Between land and people
The people have to go
They've come all the way out here to make mining claims
To do automobile body work
To gamble
Take pictures
To not have to do laundry
To own a mini-bike
Have their own CB radios and air conditioning
Good plumbing for sure
And to sell Time/Life books and to work in a deli
To have a little chili every morning
And maybe... maybe to own their own gas stations again
And take drugs
Have some crazy sex
But above all, above all, to have a fair shake
To get a piece of the rock and a slice of the pie
And spit out of the window of your car and not have the wind blow it back in your face"

Now, from the high timberline to the deserts dry
Who'll risk dangling on some hangman's tree
To stake their claims on these prarie plains
While they say this lunch is not had for free?
Just like the spokes of a wheel
Who'll spin 'round with the rest
They'll hear the drums and the brush of steel
And I'll hear the call of the west, call of the west
(Yippie-yi-yo, yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay, yippie-yi-yo-ohh-ohh)
I'll hear the call of the west, call of the west
(Yippie-yi-yo, yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay, yippie-yi-yo-ohh-ohh)
I'll hear the call of the west, call of the west
(Yippie-yi-yo, yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay, yippie-yi-yo-ohh-ohh)
I'll hear the call of the west, call of the west
(Yippie-yi-yo, yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay, yippie-yi-yo-ohh-ohh)

spoken/shouted:
I used to be somebody!
I used to be somebody, do you hear me?
Do you hear me? I've been there!
I used to be somebody, god damn you!
I've been there before!
Don't walk away!
Well, you––you wanted unleaded?
Unleaded––that's next pump over, so keep on movin', okay?
No, it's out of order.

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

spoken: Check-check? Okay.

I exercise in a most unusual way
I watch some TV almost every day
Out of my bed and on to the floor
I watch it some and then I watch it some more
I exercise in a most unusual way

I exercise in a most unusual way
Reading books and sometimes modelling clay
Hop in my car and head outta town
I'm drivin' straight but I'm just drivin' around
I exercise in a most unusual way

Hup-ho, hup-ho, hup-ho, hup-ho, hup-ho, hup-ho, la-la-la, hup-ho
Hup-ho x23

I exercise in a most unusual way
I read my calendar and you can hear me say
My memory's keen and it's all in my head
Should write things down but I forget them instead
I exercise in a most unusual way
I exercise in a most unusual way
I exercise in a most unusual way

notes

This song was only found on the cassette release of Call Of The West. The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings, with contributions from John Trivisonno, Dyani Green, and "Muffy St. Bernard".

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

1. A rare lyrics clarification from the man himself! Mark L. Irons emailed me suggesting it was shark pit. I made my inquiries and got this reply forwarded from the man himself!

   "shark pit BBq"...i think that's what i said...this was in ference to an ivitation we had been offered to go to an IRS records excutive's BBQ wgere he said he would be serving shark...this struck your humble singer as rather ironic seemingas how this person fit the description perfectly himself. Eating themselves. mmmmm...