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Recollections (2018)

by James Dean Cotton

/
1.
I was only 16, just got my pay No girlfriend, no regrets, No one in my way. Pulled on the two lane, in my old '64, Pointed her southbound And jammed on the floor. Give me that... Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet freedom. That nowhere to be That I'm gonna see. Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet freedom. That old willow wind Is calling again. We've got the right, Of places to see. That old Golden highway Was calling to me. Pulled on the freeway Was just barely dawn. The Eagles were singing I'm 'Already Gone'. Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet freedom. That nowhere to be That I'm gonna see. Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet freedom. That old willow wind Is calling again. But once in a while, When I'm feeling bound I gather up my bags and get out of this town. It's a lump in the throat, like a broken heart, a storybook ending That needs a new start... I've traveled this roadway For fortune and fee. Traded my Chevy For a slick SUV. Through front range and forest, Dusty old trail. I see that horizon, and I'm bound to set sail. Better give me that... Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet freedom. That nowhere to be That I'm gonna see. Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet freedom. That old willow wind Is calling again.
2.
When I was still growing up, We'd go to the spotters lot, and Watch these machines of Windows and wings. We'd sit in dad's Fairlane Ford On a Lambert Field service road As they glided in On thundering wind. Flying machine! Flying machine! Fly like a bird, spirit unseen. Flying machine! So I got a job building planes, Forging and fitting and frame. Titanium gear, Carbon and tears. A lighter-than-air shell Magical chair spell Stringers and skin, Defeating the wind. Flying machine! Flying machine! Fly like a bird, spirit unseen. Flying machine! We take it for granted, The moment we've landed. We were asleep up in the sky. Eight miles high, You'd think we were gods, Angels that fly. Flying machine! Flying machine! Fly like a bird, spirit unseen. Flying machine! Flying machine! Flying machine! Fly like a bird, spirit unseen. Magical dragon that somebody dreamed: Flying machine.
3.
I went back home to check on my folks, ‘Cause they’re both getting on years On the way out of town took a slow drive around To see what had changed or just disappeared Most of the stores by the four-way were closed, and The Chevrolet garage is long gone Grandpa’s old house, they finally tore down, and Spilled all the memories out on the lawn. But when I pulled over, in the shade of an oak, Rolled down the window, and smelled the wood smoke… The Frosty Treat still serves a nickel ice cream The freezing rain’s still coming down I’m still dating Evy in my ’64 Chevy, And all of my friends are around Now it might be tattered, Bleached out and battered, But it’s Still My Little Home Town Factory’s gone with the steady day jobs, that Kept farmers and families fed So they put in a prison, a heartbreak decision, now Addiction is takin’ the kids The Farmers Exchange is still open on Main, Where my uncle Don used to work He died at the wheel, asleep in a field, And the owner told Dad that he wasn’t the first But when I pulled over, in the shade of an oak, Rolled down the window, and smelled the wood smoke… The Frosty Treat still serves a nickel ice cream. The freezing rain’s still coming down, and I’m still dating Evy in my ’64 Chevy, And all of my friends are around Now it might be tattered, Bleached out and battered, But it’s Still My Little Home Town And I’m still dating Evy in my ’64 Chevy, And all of my friends are around Now it might be tattered, Bleached out and battered, But it’s Still My Little Home Town It's still my little, my bittersweet riddle, It’s Still My Little Home Town
4.
Oh, I was once a boy in love With being barely five. When I was anything I want And fearlessly alive. Rode our bikes to the river’s edge, Fourteen miles each way. Brakes burnt out on the downhill side And we laughed all the way... And the laughter of a child When those kids were running wild. When my years have all disappeared The only song I long to hear, is the Laughter of a child. Draw me in your wind of life. Spin the sky like a toy. Toss me to the summer night. Let me run with the boys. Now you may shoulder cares in the world, Troubles long or mean or mild. Pill nor potion ne’er can relieve, Like the laughter of a child. And the laughter of a child, When the kids were running wild. When my years have all disappeared The only song I need to hear, Still ringing in my ears, is the Laughter of a child.
5.
Oh, button, button in the duff, look at all you do! Lovely and mysterious, all life depends on you. Oh, button, button in the duff, listen to what I say Lovely, mysterious, don't ever go away. #Verse 2 Oh, button, button in the duff, look at all you do! Boletus, agaricus, lepista nuda blue. Oh, button, button in the duff, listen to what I say Lovely, mysterious, don't ever go away. #Verse 3 Oh, button, button in the duff, look at all you do! Morel, cep and chanterelle, dried or in a stew. Oh, button, button in the duff, listen to what I say Lovely, mysterious, don't ever go away. #Verse 4 Oh, button, button in the duff, look at all you do! Reconnecting each of us, fauna, flora too. Oh, button, button in the duff, listen to what I say Lovely, mysterious, don't ever go away. #Verse 5 Oh, button, button in the duff, look at all you do! Magical, medicinal, a culinary coup. Oh, button, button in the duff, listen to what I say Lovely, mysterious, don't ever go away. #Verse 6 Oh, button, button in the duff, look at all you do! Lovely and mysterious, all life depends on you. Oh, button, button in the duff, listen to what I say Lovely, mysterious, don't ever go away. Lovely, mysterious, don't ever go away.
6.
Joe, he was a fighter, defender of the working man. Rallied up the AFL-CIO. The miners and the movement, echoes of his hand. 'Cause Joe, he was a fighter, defender of the working man. Born in Old St. Louie, just north of old Carr Square, A middle son of recent immigrants. His father was a tailor, in the tenement's repair. And he learned the hard way, life ain't ever fair. Joe, he was a fighter, defender of the working man. Rallied up the AFL-CIO. The miners and the movement, the echoes of his hand. 'Cause Joe, he was a fighter, defender of the working man. I heard he worked at fourteen, as a bookie down on Grand. I heard he rode the rails for awhile. I heard came back humbled at the age of 23, Applied as a pipefitter for Laclede Gas Company. He organized the miners, organized the rage, Became the voice of ordinary men. Lost a wife to cancer, a son to a snowy grade. He was forty years a leader, in a forty-year crusade. Joe, he was a fighter, defender of the working man. Rallied up the AFL-CIO. The miners and the movement, the echoes of his hand. Yeah, he was a fighter, defender of the working man. Instrumental (harmonica, guitar) He died in Colorado, in the flood of '76. The Big Thompson claimed 144. His spirit is the spirit of a living wage demand. A hell of a fighter, defender of the working man. Joe, he was a fighter, defender of the working man. Rallied up the AFL-CIO. The miners and the movement, still echo through this land. 'Cause Joe, he was a fighter, defender of the working man. Joe, he was a fighter, defender of the working man.

about

Recollections is a record about growing up, small-town, in the American Midwest.

credits

released January 12, 2018

James Dean Cotton wrote, played and sang all parts and is to blame for all mistakes (on this album).
Album Photo Credit: Gene Derrickson, The Licking News, ca. 1975
Album Cover Art Adaptation: Natalie Sierra Cotton

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Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.

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James Dean Cotton Seattle, Washington

James Dean Cotton hails from the Missouri Ozarks where bluegrass and Americana infused an easy, 70's acoustic style. He writes and performs solo and with the acoustic duo, American Sons, in the Seattle area.

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