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about

Photographs in song ... a splendid paseo on a Sunday afternoon, down by the sunny sea ... Venice Boardwalk, circa 1998 ...

lyrics

Sunday Needs A Blues Band

Sunday needs a blues band in a bar by the ocean
a tortoise shell plectrum made of setting sun
strumming the western guitar sky
plenty of drum circles T-shirt stands and folk music
a crowd that dances and passers by

Sunday needs a blues band

The south wind's up and almost as warm
as the tubes in old Fender amps
or the beer or the way she turns when her heel gets stuck
where the pavement's cracked at the barroom door
dogs and fortune tellers her laughter past garbage cans
and bullet holes and blunderings and jive on the Boardwalk

Spokes spinning herb Jah babies of purpose strong
turning back to see an arrest or a beer ad on a building wall
and all that bravado against diffidence
to stand between what is me
and what I assume is you

Sunday needs a blues band

I washed up on the shore in a bamboo canoe a war canoe
a tattered sail a soggy hull I was jamming with the day moon
pitched by a last mad wave flung across the sand
to the bike rack and the bistro and you sitting there
on the hood of your old gray car
something about you reminds me of her
or vice versa either way there's too much going on here

Sunday needs a blues band

She said she’d meet me at the water’s edge
so why am I here with you
and you made outlandish by the large fuzzy dice
twiddling in your windshield
I convince myself they turn in one direction
when you turn in the other
see I need romance too or at least physics on my side
what do you need

Sunday needs a blues band

I gather my provisions and belongings
a moldy peach my middle emotions an acoustic guitar
startle flirts with rebuff in your unwavering brown eyes
you hop a cloud of cigarette smoke
and drift across the sandy parking lot

Sunday needs a blues band plenty toe rings buffalo wings
German girls vagabonds buzzing tattoo machines
a love child a wine cooler a Ghost Town G
a tour group from Tokyo
a crowd that dances and passersby

Sunday needs a blues band

Knots in an oak table surrounded by perfect wood
sealed in lacquer it's my greatest fear
that I might take out my pen knife
and fashion your initials in the tabletop
or that C and D will eternally answer G

... be good

Well I veered off toward the water as the girl walked in the bistro
heard the euphonic wind passing through an abandoned harmonica
poised on the window sill in the bar by the ocean
and I am trailed by bead salesmen and the blunt chord issuing

Sunday needs a blues band

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David Harris Los Angeles, California

Singer Songwriter David Harris ... "Tada!"

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