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The Freeloadin' New Madrid

by New Madrid, MO

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1.
2.
There will come a day when the rivers will call their children all home, grownup and small, and I’ll be there. Oh, I’ll be there. And there will come a day when cities will burn, and there will come a day when the teachers will learn what their students have known. Oh, what their students have known. And there will come a day when all is forgiven, there will come a day when we remember what we’re living for; not for revenge, and not for spite. There will come a day that fades not into night. There will come a day when the roads will all crack, flowers pushing up through the concrete and blacktop, with no one to repair. Oh, what’s to repair? And there will come a day when the borders will fade, become nothing more but ideas on a page of a time long gone. Oh, of a time long gone. And there will come a day when all voices sing in the same crashing note, ushering in Spring. The Spring that thaws this Winter we’ve known, and we will reap everything that we’ve sown. There will come a day when all is set straight, all people understand that we share the same fate as the least among us. Oh, as the least among us. And there will come a day when we know why we’re here; to live with compassion, to live without fear. Don’t be afraid, oh, don’t be afraid, because there will come a day when all people know the joy that’s within me, that was sown long ago in a waking dream or in a past life. There will come a day that fades not into night.
3.
There’s something on the banks of the Buffalo, a fear of a place where the trees don’t grow. Smoke rolls up from Arkansas, and everybody take a look around. And they’re breathin’ deep the cedarwood smog. Stoke the fire, add another log. Take a lungful of that old-time sound, and everybody take a look around. Everybody take a look around. A funny orange tint falls on the town, and everybody’s driving with their windows down. Upholstery smells like campfire fumes, and everybody take a look around. And they’re talkin’ ‘bout theories, talkin’ ‘bout rumors. Talkin’ “White Noise”, talkin’ ‘bout tumors. For the next five minutes we think about Heaven, and we try not to think about Hell. We need a controlled burn. I am a controlled burn. Shift into low-gear, heel-to-toe. Curse the pavement, take a back road. Try to remember what it is that we’re living for, try to take a look around. And marvel at the limestone, marvel at the grass, cuz everyone else just sees celluloid glass. They’re just staring at a movie on a windshield, nobody takes a look around. Yeah, nobody takes a look around. We need a controlled burn. I am a controlled burn. Hey, my little girl, well I know you’re scared, cuz you know there’s a lot more than life out there. Something called Death, and it’s playin’ your song, and everybody take a look around. And they’re trying to find the melody, trying to find the key, and that’s why I’m gonna hold you close to me. So we can take a lungful of that old-time sound. Take a lungful of that old-time sound.
4.
Memorial Day 04:05
It’s Memorial Day, 2084. It’s been a hundred years since I was born. And I wonder if there’s anyone who will remember me. Who will see to it that my grave is swept clean? Will they say I dug my bootheels in, and refused to give up the ghost? Did I hold tight to this temporary thing? Or did I just lie down with that night train roaring in my ears, and close my eyes to dream the endless dream? It’s Memorial Day, 2084. It’s been a hundred years since I was born. And I wonder if they’ll be around who can breathe a letter of my name. Will the world go on spinning just the same? Will a great tremor run through the earth, will the oceans turn to steam? Will all the songbirds forget all their songs? No, the stars will just laugh and shine, the tide will rise and fall, and everything will go marching on. It’s Memorial Day, 2084. It’s been a hundred years since I was born. And I hope that they speak of me with love and not with shame, cuz I’d rather be forgotten than be blamed. Will all my tattoos fade to dust, as all my words and all my deeds? All memory that I ever even lived? Will all of the saddest girls turn their backs to my stone, or will they find it in their hearts to forgive? It’s Memorial Day.
5.
Missouri nights are beautiful, you can see every star in the sky. But I gotta get down to Florida, for therein my salvation lies. Florida ain’t no Fountain of Youth, ain’t no Fountain of Youth I can see. It may have looked that way to Ponce de Leon, but it smells like death to me. But deep down in Orlando, people’re gonna let me live. And Missouri, sweet Missouri, you gave all that you could give. Missouri nights are beautiful, you can see every star in the sky. But I gotta get down to Florida, for therein my salvation lies. I’m going to Panama City to get some sand in my shoes. I’m gonna bathe in that Gulf of Mexico, and wash away these Ozark blues. I don’t really know if I’ll like it there, but anywhere’s better than here. So Florida, lock up your daughters. Faretheewell, Missouri, dear. Missouri nights are beautiful, you can see every star in the sky. But I gotta get down to Florida, for therein my salvation lies.
6.
My life has turned into a series of rest stops, strung together on a ribbon highway. Palm trees and Appalachian furs, Saguaro cactus bending my way. Ain’t got much but I got a name, and I’ll never forget from whence I came; that day my father held me so tight and said that he’d love me forever and always. Got girls waiting in a couple of towns, and as they’re wakin’ up I’m beddin’ down. But for my mistress, I choose the road. The guilt of leaving’s my cross, my load. So don’t wait up for me. There’s so much more to be seen. Girl, I ain’t nothin’ but bones and steam, to be swallowed up by the Great Machine. We wrecked a hotel room in Slidell. Lake Ponchartrain, I knew thee well. I seen the sun set over Venice Beach, and the Emerald Coast’s within my reach. But I ain’t settin’ roots, I’m settin’ a charge. Travel up the Mississippi like a St. Louis barge. Drinking Tennessee whiskey under the moonlight, but without you it just don’t seem right. So don’t wait up for me. There’s so much more to be seen. Girl, I ain’t nothin’ but bones and steam, to be swallowed up by the Great Machine. I ain’t seen it all yet, but yet I will, until I miss the cedar and I miss the hills. Until I miss my Momma, and my Poppa too, and the satellites that frame the moon. Until I miss Bee Creek where we caught bluegill, and the smell of the garden that’s just been tilled. Until I miss your laugh and your big blue eyes, and the song the frogs sing when the Missouri sun rises.
7.
I came down from Atlanta, GA, and I took to sleeping on a bench down at the pier. It’s been so long since I seen my family, and I sure wish my momma was here. I’m cleaning fish for the tourists, and I’m makin’ less than 5 bucks a stand. The young man at the gas station, he gives me free coffee. I spend the rest on a sandwhich and a can. And if I die in New Orleans, make sure the storm washes my bones to sea. Cuz if I die in New Orleans, no one’s gonna be lookin’ for me. The last bit of luck I had was comin’ back from the jungle alive. But when you do the things that I felt I had to do, most days you wish that you had died. When I got back I was forgotten, by my wife, my country, and my kids. I found my solace at the bottom of a bottle, and I found my new home on the skids. And if I die in New Orleans, make sure the storm washes my bones to sea. Cuz if I die in New Orleans, no one’s gonna be lookin’ for me. Policeman’s tellin’ me that it’s time to go. This town’s got appearances to keep. Tomorrow I’ll be walking all the way to Pensacola, so tonight I better get some sleep. And if I die in New Orleans, make sure the storm washes my bones to sea. Cuz if I die in New Orleans, no one’s gonna mourn for me. Can the circle be unbroken? By and by, son, we shall see. There’s a river to carry me home, oh Lord, as I sleep forever in the sea.
8.
Missouri nights are beautiful, you can see every star in the sky. But I gotta get down to Florida, for therein my salvation lies. Florida ain’t no Fountain of Youth, ain’t no Fountain of Youth I can see. It may have looked that way to Ponce de Leon, but it smells like death to me. But deep down in Orlando, people’re gonna let me live. And Missouri, sweet Missouri, you gave all that you could give. Missouri nights are beautiful, you can see every star in the sky. But I gotta get down to Florida, for therein my salvation lies. I’m going to Panama City to get some sand in my shoes. I’m gonna bathe in that Gulf of Mexico, and wash away these Ozark blues. I don’t really know if I’ll like it there, but anywhere’s better than here. So Florida, lock up your daughters. Faretheewell, Missouri, dear. Missouri nights are beautiful, you can see every star in the sky. But I gotta get down to Florida, for therein my salvation lies.
9.
My life has turned into a series of rest stops, strung together on a ribbon highway. Palm trees and Appalachian furs, Saguaro cactus bending my way. Ain’t got much but I got a name, and I’ll never forget from whence I came; that day my father held me so tight and said that he’d love me forever and always. Got girls waiting in a couple of towns, and as they’re wakin’ up I’m beddin’ down. But for my mistress, I choose the road. The guilt of leaving’s my cross, my load. So don’t wait up for me. There’s so much more to be seen. Girl, I ain’t nothin’ but bones and steam, to be swallowed up by the Great Machine. We wrecked a hotel room in Slidell. Lake Ponchartrain, I knew thee well. I seen the sun set over Venice Beach, and the Emerald Coast’s within my reach. But I ain’t settin’ roots, I’m settin’ a charge. Travel up the Mississippi like a St. Louis barge. Drinking Tennessee whiskey under the moonlight, but without you it just don’t seem right. So don’t wait up for me. There’s so much more to be seen. Girl, I ain’t nothin’ but bones and steam, to be swallowed up by the Great Machine. I ain’t seen it all yet, but yet I will, until I miss the cedar and I miss the hills. Until I miss my Momma, and my Poppa too, and the satellites that frame the moon. Until I miss Bee Creek where we caught bluegill, and the smell of the garden that’s just been tilled. Until I miss your laugh and your big blue eyes, and the song the frogs sing when the Missouri sun rises.
10.
I came down from Atlanta, GA, and I took to sleeping on a bench down at the pier. It’s been so long since I seen my family, and I sure wish my momma was here. I’m cleaning fish for the tourists, and I’m makin’ less than 5 bucks a stand. The young man at the gas station, he gives me free coffee. I spend the rest on a sandwhich and a can. And if I die in New Orleans, make sure the storm washes my bones to sea. Cuz if I die in New Orleans, no one’s gonna be lookin’ for me. The last bit of luck I had was comin’ back from the jungle alive. But when you do the things that I felt I had to do, most days you wish that you had died. When I got back I was forgotten, by my wife, my country, and my kids. I found my solace at the bottom of a bottle, and I found my new home on the skids. And if I die in New Orleans, make sure the storm washes my bones to sea. Cuz if I die in New Orleans, no one’s gonna be lookin’ for me. Policeman’s tellin’ me that it’s time to go. This town’s got appearances to keep. Tomorrow I’ll be walking all the way to Pensacola, so tonight I better get some sleep. And if I die in New Orleans, make sure the storm washes my bones to sea. Cuz if I die in New Orleans, no one’s gonna mourn for me. Can the circle be unbroken? By and by, son, we shall see. There’s a river to carry me home, oh Lord, as I sleep forever in the sea.
11.
I wanna see a sea of raised fists, not camera phones and listlessness. I want the kids to remind us why we’re doing this. We’ll kick our monitors off the stage, cuz we don’t need to hear ourselves anyway, as long as we’re playing what we need to say. And I say if God does exist, He’s siding with the anarchists, for what could He be but the limitless potentials of Self, an umbilical to the freedom that lives inside of everyone. We’re gonna blow our spirits out of speaker stacks. That’s how we’ll take the power back. We’ll never die, because within us there’s no room for death to be found. And why fear the grave when you’ve spent your whole life underground? I’ve read the scriptures of the bathroom stall, I draw the Black Flag bars on every bathroom wall. I always have and I probably always will. And every morning that Great Machine tears the wings right off my back again. But I don’t mind, because every night I grow them back. And if livin’ like this is such a sin, then who let all these angels in? We’re never gonna be sober again, won’t be sober again. And I say if true love exists, it’s siding with the anarchists, for what could be more free than total selflessness? Remember we’re just bones and steam, mice in the ocean, controlled burning. Remember we are nothing but everything. So if you want to take control, plug the quarter-inch into your soul. We’re gonna blow our spirits out of speaker stacks. That’s how we’ll take the power back.
12.
My life has turned into a series of rest stops, strung together on a ribbon highway. Palm trees and Appalachian furs, Saguaro cactus bending my way. Ain’t got much but I got a name, and I’ll never forget from whence I came; that day my father held me so tight and said that he’d love me forever and always. Got girls waiting in a couple of towns, and as they’re wakin’ up I’m beddin’ down. But for my mistress, I choose the road. The guilt of leaving’s my cross, my load. So don’t wait up for me. There’s so much more to be seen. Girl, I ain’t nothin’ but bones and steam, to be swallowed up by the Great Machine. We wrecked a hotel room in Slidell. Lake Ponchartrain, I knew thee well. I seen the sun set over Venice Beach, and the Emerald Coast’s within my reach. But I ain’t settin’ roots, I’m settin’ a charge. Travel up the Mississippi like a St. Louis barge. Drinking Tennessee whiskey under the moonlight, but without you it just don’t seem right. So don’t wait up for me. There’s so much more to be seen. Girl, I ain’t nothin’ but bones and steam, to be swallowed up by the Great Machine. I ain’t seen it all yet, but yet I will, until I miss the cedar and I miss the hills. Until I miss my Momma, and my Poppa too, and the satellites that frame the moon. Until I miss Bee Creek where we caught bluegill, and the smell of the garden that’s just been tilled. Until I miss your laugh and your big blue eyes, and the song the frogs sing when the Missouri sun rises.

about

This was compiled to be given away at our “breakup” show, August 2009. Most of the live tracks were already part of “Live, Vol. 1”, and we added some old acoustic “Las Cruces” (pre-New Madrid) material that was recorded in Murfreesboro back in 2006 or so. I don’t even remember anymore. “Consider the Lilies” was drunkenly recorded in my bedroom in the wee hours of the morn, sometime in 2008 or 2009, with some of the dudes from Reverse the Curse and Echoes of Harpers Ferry (both from OH). They insisted on recording that song after our show, being that they wanted a copy of it, punk rock anthem that it is, and we hadn’t recorded it yet. The reggae version of “Bones + Steam” was improvised on a lonely, frozen February night at The Outland. There are a few cover songs on the original album that have been omitted here, but you can download it in its entirety at newmadridmo.tumblr.com/post/4680795667/the-freeloadin-new-madrid.

All the live stuff features Andrew Dietz, Stan Fick, Garrett Jackson, and Shea Langner. Additional musicians for the older songs include Nick Naioti, Kevin Tillery, and Steven Woods.

credits

released August 11, 2009

Andrew Dietz: Vocals, electric and acoustic guitars, bass, harmonica, mandolin
Stan Fick: Drums
Garrett Jackson: Keyboards, autoharp
Shea Langner: Vocals, bass

with:
Nick Naioti: Vocals, production, harmonica, mandolin
Kevin Tillery: Vocals, bass
Steven Woods: Percussion
Dudes from Echoes of Harpers Ferry and Reverse the Curse whose names I can't remember: Vocals, mandolin

Photo by Curtis Wallen.

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