Watched a pretty decent Netflix documentary about Mr. Johnson last night, which sent me back down the rabbit hole.
And I feel so lonesome, you hear me when I moan
And I feel so lonesome, you hear me when I moan
Who been drivin’ my Terraplane for you since I been gone?
I’d said I flash your lights, mama, you horn won’t even blow
Somebody’s been runnin’ my batteries down on this machine
I even flash my lights, mama, this horn won’t even blow
Got a short in this connection, hoo well, babe, it’s way down below
I’m goin’ heist your hood, mama, I’m bound to check your oil
I’m goin’ heist your hood, mama, mmm, I’m bound to check your oil
I got a woman that I’m lovin’, way down in Arkansas
Now, you know the coils ain’t even buzzin’, little generator won’t get the spark
Motor’s in a bad condition, you gotta have these batteries charged
But I’m cryin’, please, please don’t do me wrong
Who been drivin’ my Terraplane now for you since I been gone?
Mr. highway man, please don’t block the road
Please, please don’t block the road
‘Cause she’s reachin’ a cold one hundred and I’m booked and I got to go
Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm
You, you hear me weep and moan
Who been drivin’ my Terraplane now for you since I been gone?
I’m gon’ get deep down in this connection, keep on tanglin’ with your wires
I’m gon’ get deep down in this connection, oh well, keep on tanglin’ with these wires
And when I mash down on your little starter, then your sparkplug will give me fire
I fully support Robert Johnson posts. Love his smooth transition to falsetto.
I had to look up the Terraplane. You don’t see too many Hudsons around.
Fat Elvis probably has a half-working Terraplane in his garage, and Mrs. Fat Elvis is probably tired of looking at it.
Thanks for the lyrical hint. I’m starting to appreciate metaphor more and more. Did you know that –
Working up a hot sweat
Crouching in your pea patch
Plowing through your beanfield
Planting my seed
– is not really about working on a farm?
I grew up hearing the Rolling Stones’ cover of this, which was on their first album. I thought it was about a bee until I was, like, 21.
Social reticence towards topics sexual had its uses: it forced writers to be creative with metaphors. Much was lost after it became OK to say anything.
And then there’s this song Lucille Bogan.
Explicit songs have certainly been around a long time, but they couldn’t get much general currency because few labels would release them. In recent years, labels can release whatever anyone wants and just slap on an “explicit” sticker. With that, you just don’t see the same kind of cleverness with metaphors.