Suede and Chrome: Fort Recovery 2012: Final Post

Monday, November 26, 2012

Fort Recovery 2012: Final Post

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SOLE SURVIVOR

SOLE SURVIVOR
by Pistol Pete Midtgard (The Twistin' Tarantulas)

Sometimes late at night, when I'm lyin' in my bed, I just can't sleep a wink
I finally get back up, put all my clothes back on, get in my car and drive so I can think
Then I drive around this town I still call my stomping grounds
And always end up rollin' through the place where I grew up

Chorus:
Now as I guide my sled through my old neighborhood, like a ghost on a haunting...
I think of all my friends, from way back then, and I wonder where they've gone
And I remember how we laughed and fought and drank and cried and carried on
I wonder who got straight, who's locked up, and who flung the curtain down
I'm still around

We were so young, but already cynical and tired
Of how predictable, how ridiculous our friends had all become
We had no plan but to spite the world, it was such a stagnant place
The conglomerates had changed, but the song remained the same
So we dressed in dead men's clothes and shoes with stiletto toes
Played cheap guitars through ragged amps and made fun of it all

Chorus

Now it's been twenty years since I first stepped on a stage
I got a Ph.D. from the hard knocks school in adolescent rage
With deafened ears, and a hardened heart, tattoos all green and blurred
I'm a battered tomcat in the alley of life, and I still want my song to be heard
And it seems to me after all these years, that I'm the sole survivor
It seems to me everybody's gone and I'm all alone

Now as I guide my sled through my old neighborhood, like a ghost on a haunting...
I think of all my friends, from way back then, and I wonder where they've gone
And I remember how we laughed and fought and drank and cried and carried on
I wish I knew then what I know now, but youth is wasted on the young
And we were so young.

Who Could Really Love This Car But Me? - Brian Setzer

It's got a leaky carburetor
A rusted out floor
Four broken windows
Bullet holes in the door
Torn up old seats
And the lock don't fit the key
Now baby who would really love this car but me?
Got the original paint
Joe put reflectors on the door
It's got a Mexican blanket interior
It's missin' all the chrome
It must be plain to see
Baby who would really love this car but me?
Man I picked a lemon
A lemon from the tree
That grows in every junkyard
From here to Tennessee
I know it's gonna start
I just can't find the key
So why the hell is everybody starin' at me?
It's just a '55 Caddy
The brakes are no good
It won't leave you stranded
In a bad neighborhood
The lights don't even work
It must be plain to see
Baby who would really love this car but me
Well man I picked a lemon
A lemon from the tree
That grows in every junkyard
From here to Tennessee
I know it's gonna start
I just can't find the key
So why the hell is everybody starin' at me?
It's just a '55 Caddy
The brakes are no good
It won't leave you stranded
In a bad neighborhood
The lights don't even work
It must be plain to see
Baby who would really love this car but me?
Oh man I picked a lemon
Hey, why don't you paint it yellow?

Gremmie Out of Control

Every beach has a clown who thinks he knows it all (hang-ten outta Santa Fe when surf comes out tomorrow lets go)
And he's always practicing his cowabunga call (cowabunga)
But he'll never scramble when the big waves start to roll
Cause there's nothing worse than a gremmie out of control
Gremmie out of control
Gremmie out of control
There's nothing worse than a gremmie out of control
The kids always know that gremmie's talk is cheap (ride the hula-han over the pipeline bonsai to the saddle bowl)
Oh they just try to ignore this ugly creep (cowabunga)
His board is always full of dings
Cause he's always doing stupid things
And there's nothing worse than a gremmie out of control
Gremmie out of control
Gremmie out of control
There's nothing worse than a gremmie out of control
Gremmie out of control
Gremmie out of control
There's nothing worse than a gremmie out of control
There's nothing worse than a gremmie out of control
There's nothing worse than a gremmie out of control

"59 by Brian Setzer and "68 Comeback Special

Well I was born back in '59
I didn't come late, I was right on time.
We had a '59 ford, that never ran quite right.
We'd catch a drive in movie, every saturday night.
Well times were hard for the working man
Daddy tried to understand.
Everything I love is from '59
My first guitar and that girl of mine.
Everything I want is from '59
I guess i'm behind the times'cause everything I love's from '59.
Well the prince said hey Grace Kellywould you be my wife?And Bobby Darin sang MACK THE KNIFE
They took Eddie Cochran what could we do?
Once he was gone we knew that rock and roll was through.
We had technicolor at the scene of the crime
Coupe Devilles rolling off of the line.
Everything I love is from '59
My first guitar and that girl of mine.
Everything I want is from '59
I guess i'm behind the times'cause everything I love's from '59.
Everything I love
Everything I love
Everything I love
Everything.
Wonder where as time rolls on
All that style from 1959 has gone.
But i've got memories in the back of my mind.
What it was like to be alive in '59.
We had technicolor at the scene of the crime,
Coupe Devilles rolling off of the line.
Everything I love is from '59
My first guitar and that girl of mine.
Everything I want is from '59
I guess i'm behind the times.
Everything I love is from '59
My first guitar and that girl of mine.
'cause everything I love,everything I love,
everything I love's from '59.

Kustom Kulture is a US neologism used to describe the artwork, the vehicles, the hairstyles, and the fashions of those who drove and built custom cars and motorcycles in the United States of America from the 1950s through today. In the early days of hot rodding, many fashions and styles developed. Over time, each of these distinct styles of customizing have blended and reshaped our everyday life. Artists such as Von Dutch (Kenny Howard), custom car builders such as Ed "Big Daddy" Roth, hot rod and lowrider customizers such as the Barris Brothers, along with numerous tattoo artists, automobile painters, and movies and television shows such as American Graffiti, Happy Days, The Munsters (The Munster Koach, Drag-u-la) and The Monkees (The Monkeemobile) have all helped to form what is known as Kustom Kulture.
Kustom Kulture is usually identified with the greasers of the 1950s, the drag racers of the 1960s, and the lowriders of the 1970s. Other subcultures that have had an influence on Kustom Kulture are the Skinheads, mods and rockers of the 1960s, the punk rockers of the 1970s, the metal and rockabilly music, along with the scooterboys of the 1980s, and psychobilly of the 1990s. Each separate culture has added their own customizations to the cars, their own fashions, influenced the music, and added their own ideas of what is cool, of what is acceptable, and what is not. Everything from wild pinstriped paintjobs, to choptop Mercurys, to custom Harley-Davidson and Triumph Motorcycles, to metalflake and black primer paintjobs, along with music, cartoons, and monster movies have had an impact on what defines anyone and anything who is part of this automobile subculture.
In the 1990s and 2000s, Kustom Kulture had taken on a rebirth of American subcultures from the 50's and 60's with DIY activities. Each style is distinct, and has its roots in American automobile history. Many styles that would not have tolerated each other in the past now come together in large car shows.

One Piece At A Time - Johnny Cash

Well, I left Kentucky back in '49
An' went to Detroit workin' on a 'sembly line
The first year they had me puttin' wheels on cadillacs
Every day I'd watch them beauties roll by
And sometimes I'd hang my head and cry
'Cause I always wanted me one that was long and black.
One day I devised myself a plan
That should be the envy of most any man
I'd sneak it out of there in a lunchbox in my hand
Now gettin' caught meant gettin' fired
But I figured I'd have it all by the time I retired
I'd have me a car worth at least a hundred grand.

I'd get it one piece at a time
And it wouldn't cost me a dime
You'll know it's me when I come through your town
I'm gonna ride around in style
I'm gonna drive everybody wild
'Cause I'll have the only one there is a round.

So the very next day when I punched in
With my big lunchbox and with help from my friends
I left that day with a lunch box full of gears
Now, I never considered myself a thief
GM wouldn't miss just one little piece
Especially if I strung it out over several years.
The first day I got me a fuel pump
And the next day I got me an engine and a trunk
Then I got me a transmission and all of the chrome
The little things I could get in my big lunchbox
Like nuts, an' bolts, and all four shocks
But the big stuff we snuck out in my buddy's mobile home.
Now, up to now my plan went all right
'Til we tried to put it all together one night
And that's when we noticed that something was definitely wrong.
The transmission was a '53
And the motor turned out to be a '73
And when we tried to put in the bolts all the holes were gone.
So we drilled it out so that it would fit
And with a little bit of help with an adaptor kit
We had that engine runnin' just like a song
Now the headlight' was another sight
We had two on the left and one on the right
But when we pulled out the switch all three of 'em come on.
The back end looked kinda funny too
But we put it together and when we got thru
Well, that's when we noticed that we only had one tail-fin
About that time my wife walked out
And I could see in her eyes that she had her doubts
But she opened the door and said "Honey, take me for a spin."
So we drove up town just to get the tags
And I headed her right on down main drag
I could hear everybody laughin' for blocks around
But up there at the court house they didn't laugh
'Cause to type it up it took the whole staff
And when they got through the title weighed sixty pounds.

I got it one piece at a time
And it didn't cost me a dime
You'll know it's me when I come through your town
I'm gonna ride around in style
I'm gonna drive everybody wild
'Cause I'll have the only one there is around.

Ugh! Yow, RED RYDER This is the COTTON MOUTHIn the PSYCHO-BILLY CADILLAC Come on
Huh, This is the COTTON MOUTH
And negatory on the cost of this mow-chine there RED RYDER
You might say I went right up to the factory
And picked it up, it's cheaper that way
Ugh!, what model is it?Well, It's a '49, '50, '51, '52, '53, '54, '55, '56'57, '58' 59' automobile
It's a '60, '61, '62, '63, '64, '65, '66, '67'68, '69, '70 automobile.

My Custom Machine by the Beach Boys

Well she's metal flake blue with a corvette mill.
(Check my custom machine)
And they say it looks better when she's standin' still.
(Check my custom machine)
When I step on the gas she goes wa aa aa.
I'll let you look but don't touch my custom machine.
Well with naugahyde bucket seats in front and back.
(Check my custom machine)
Everything is chrome, man, even my jack.
(Check my custom machine)
When I step on the gas she goes wa aa aa.
I'll let you look but don't touch my custom machine.
A stereophonic speaker set with vibrasonic sound.
(Check my custom machine)
Magnesium spokes, it stands an inch off the ground.
(Check my custom machine)
When I step on the gas she goes wa aa aa.
I'll let you look but don't touch my custom machine.

Cadillac Ranch by Bruce Springsteen

Well there she sits buddy just a-gleaming in the sun.
There to greet a working man when his day is done.
I'm gonna pack my Pa and I'm gonna pack my aunt. I
'm gonna take them down to the Cadillac Ranch.
Eldorado fins, whitewalls and skirts.
Rides just like a little bit of heaven here on earth.
Well buddy when I die, throw my body in the back.
And drive me to the junkyard in my Cadillac.
Cadillac, Cadillac, Long and dark, shiny and black.
Open up your engines let `em roar.
Tearing up the highway like a big old dinosaur.
James Dean in that mercury `49.
Junior Johnson runnin' through the woods of Caroline.
Even Burt Reynolds in that black Trans Am,
all gonna meet down at the Cadillac Ranch.

Peroxide Blonde in a Hopped-Up Model Ford - Brian Setzer

Well I went out a cattin’ on a Friday night
I was dressed to kill, I wasn’t lookin’ for a fight.
I looked in the mirror, just a waitin’ for the light,
I saw a hot chick that really looked right.

I’m draggin’, draggin’ down main once more,
With a peroxide blonde in a hopped up Model Ford.
Now I’m draggin’, draggin’ down main once more,
With a peroxide blonde in a hopped up Model Ford.

Well I pulled on over, she asked me for a ride,
She moved real close, side by side.
I looked out the window and to my surprise,
It was a hot rod Ford just a passin’ me by.

I’m draggin’, draggin’ down main once more,
With a peroxide blonde in a hopped up Model Ford.

Well we drove down Main, just to make a scene.
I barked my tire when the light turned green.
I slapped it to the floor, let out on the clutch.
What was left on the road, well it wasn’t very much.
We flew out of town, we were side by side,
Twin carburetors were open wide.
Tires that smoked, engine started to whine
I tell ya, that blonde left me way behind.

I’m draggin’, draggin’ down main once more,
With a peroxide blonde in a hopped up Model Ford.
Now I’m never, never ever, draggin’ down Main no more,
With a peroxide blonde in a hopped up Model Ford.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Fort Recovery 2012: Final Post

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