[Music]
This is your host Robert Harrison for entitled opinions. Welcome to our happy hour.
The last time we opened the bar, we brought you the distilled lyrics of Jimmy Hendrix.
And many of you commented that it was revealing to hear the song's words isolated from their musical context.
It threw into relief just how much they arose from a deep well of loneliness that usually gets covered over by the psychedelic magic of his guitar.
The comrade Jimmy, trying to make it real, compared to what.
Just like we try to do here on entitled opinions.
Today we move on from Jimmy Hendrix to Jeff Rottel, the flute rock band that stormed the scene in England in the late 60s.
Don't ask me why I chose Jeff Rottel. There's something in their lyrics that appeals to me,
an admixture of it, Buleence and melancholy of the lost and found of love and friendship.
Their lead man, Ian Anderson, worlds a world in his lyrics, and that's good enough for us.
So here we go with a new day yesterday.
[Music]
My first and last time with you and we had some fun.
Went walking through the trees, yeah.
And then I kissed you once.
Oh, I want to see you soon, but I wonder how.
It was a new day yesterday, but it's an old day now.
I spent a long time looking for a game to play.
My luck should be so bad now to turn out this way.
Oh, I had to leave today just when I thought I'd found you.
It was a new day yesterday, but it's an old day now.
[Music]
Locomotive breath.
In the shuffling madness of the locomotive breath runs the all-time loser headlong to his death.
Oh, he feels the piston screaming, steam breaking on his brow.
Old Charlie stole the handle, and the train it won't stop going now.
No way he could slow down.
He hears the silence howling catches angels as they fall, and the all-time winner is the same.
He hears the silence howling catches angels as they fall, and the all-time winner has gotten by the balls.
So he picks up Gideon's Bible, open at page one.
I thank God he stole the handle.
At the train it won't stop going.
No way he could slow down.
With you there to help me.
In days of peace, sweet smelling summer nights of wine and song, dusty pavements, burning feet.
Why am I crying?
I want to know.
How can I smile and then make it right?
For 60 days and 80 nights and not giving in and lose the fight.
I'm going back to the ones that I know, with whom I can be what I want to be, and just one week for the feeling to go.
And with you there to help me, then it probably will.
Won't go down, acting the same old play.
Give 60 days for just one night.
Don't think I'd make it, but then I might.
I'm going back to the ones that I know, with whom I can be what I want to be, and just one week for the feeling to go.
And with you there to help me, then it probably will.
[Music]
In days of peace, sweet smelling summer nights, of wine and song, dusty pavements, burning feet.
Why am I crying?
I want to know.
How can I smile and then make it right?
For 60 days and amazing nights and not giving in and lose the fight.
[Music]
I'm crying back to the ones that I know, with whom I can be what I want to be, and just one week for the feeling to go.
And with you there to help me, then it probably will.
[Music]
I want to acting the same old play thing.
This 60 days for just one night.
Don't think I'd make it, but then I might.
[Music]
I want to be what I want to be, and just one week for the feeling to go.
[Music]
I've been missing what time could bring.
50 years and I'm filled with tears and joys I never cried.
Burn the wagon and chain the mule, the past is all denied.
There's no time for everything, no time for everything.
We used to know.
Whenever I get to feel this way, try to find new words to say,
I think about the bad old days we used to know.
Knights of winter turn we cold, fears of dying, getting old.
We ran the race, the race was won by running slowly.
Could be soon we'll cease to sound, slowly upstairs, faster down,
then to revisit stony grounds we used to know.
Remembering mornings, shilling spent, made no sense to leave the bed.
The bad old days they came and went, giving way to fruitful years.
Saving up the birds in hand while in the bush the others land,
"Take what we can before the man says it's time to go."
Each to his own way I'll go mine, best of luck with what you find,
but for your own sake remember times we used to know.
When I get to feel this way, I don't want new words to say.
I think about the bad old days we used to know.
Knights of winter turn we cold, feeling of dying, getting old.
We ran the race, the race was won by running slowly.
Could be soon we'll cease to sound, slowly upstairs, faster down,
and to revisit stony grounds we used to know.
Remembering mornings, shilling spent, made no sense to leave the bed.
The bad old days they came and went, giving way to fruitful years.
[Music]