IT FEELS LIKE
As I lay me down, as this world turns red – I’m no communist baby – I believe in a king-size bed – she said let’s sleep when we’re dead
I was rhyming with the timing of Frankie Lyman
And the teenagers crying – the disc jockeys sighing
At the news the king was dying – you know what that feels like
I was down I’d been around – and I was growing sick and tired of this town – the sounds of these clowns – who keep telling me late at night – – they know what it feels like
You were leaving I was grieving all these facts said
I was not achieving I was mistakenly believing
That the smiles on their faces meant they knew
What it feels like – she said how could you ever allow this domesticating plow – this powdered milk cow onto the farm – we grow the things that we feel like
As I lay me down – as this world turns red – I’m no communist baby – I believe in a king-size bed – she said let’s sleep when we’re dead
Even Sigmund Freud would be annoyed at your fanatical joy
When your brand new toy started walking started talking
Started telling you what it feels like – ah hell I can tell this won’t sell – except to Alexander graham bell
the reason is, well, he loves telephone songs
He knows what they feel like
FAN MAIL
I thought I might write a letter to you
You know I’ve seen your picture around
And as I sit in this wood paneled hell
Ill do anything that won’t bring me down
I read the news and I got to say
That my daddy really hates your sound
And I’ll follow you anywhere if you want me
And the fan mail keeps on coming
Coming every day
They tell me just what the matter is
And I don’t know what to say
What can I write back today?
Baby’s gotta get a message through
She gotta make her star connection tonight
Backstage they’ll change your life
Remove a wrapper and make it right
And as she screams in her front row seat with the tears rolling down her eyes
It’s hard to go back home after leaving heaven
Chorus
Give me time I gotta clean my mind
Cries the boy with devil in his pants
Its poor taste what I got to face
And spread religion and rock romance
I was cool in economics school
Why those professors couldn’t even dance
And now they’re already planning my rocking revival
Chorus
MADALYN
Madalyn how do I begin
To tell you I can’t love you much longer
Madalyn I think I’ll never win
Something keeps me from growing stronger
The last damn thing in this whole wide world
I meant to do was break your heart
Madalyn we’ll get over this
That’s the saddest part
Madalyn you say my reasons are thin
You mentioned you’d like an explanation
So Madalyn it’s just I’ve never been
Able to love the one I love
The last damn thing in this whole wide world
I meant to do was break your heart
Madalyn we’ll get over this
It’s the saddest part
And sticks and stones will break my bones
And words just can’t hurt me
Sticks and stones will break my bones
But you’ll never hurt me
Madalyn I know that you’ll find him
And he’ll treat you like you are
And that’s special
But Madalyn will my search ever end
Will I find out whose hating me from the inside?
Madalyn – Madalyn
WHAT’S THE MATTER
It can hide behind crow’s feet eyes, cherry blossom wives with Christmas ties it won’t matter
It will lie with a doctor’s smile through a little child every once in a while you can’t look at her
And you dream of your capital schemes is it the ends or the means
That makes you scream
Why do I lean – what’s the matter – what’s the matter?
It’s under water under glass its undernourished under cashed life on a high-rise
Its just incorporated trash with no past it doesn’t give much time for the goodbye
And a systematic failure or a cardiac impaler
Its religion its tradition and only superstition tells the truth – its not that loose
What’s the matter?
It’s a woman of ninety-eight lying still in a hospital bed screaming mama
It’s a lie detectors dream even bus stops look obscene lonely motion
And a riot of all mothers and a fast by all the others I can see it
I can be it and only time is watching you
What’s the matter?
RAZOR LOVE
You slit my heart
So clean like a razor blade
I didn’t feel you cut into me
I just noticed that my shine did fade
Yeah you slit my heart
From the moment you bought my tune
And all the signs in these highway times
Couldn’t get me off your station too soon
I don’t need money
Is like saying I don’t need you
Even a saint gets hungry
I think a blind man could appreciate your view
I got soul on a golden platter
I got Leopold and Loeb on my brain
And once you decide to follow the mad hatter
It won’t ever ever be the same
Yeah you slit my heart
And the infection growing worse everyday
My friends only talk about the weather
And my doctor doesn’t know what to say
Chorus
JEFFERSON DAVIS CONTINENTAL
Please take me home to a place where there’s always neon burning
And then you can leave me all alone
And I’ll sit and watch this soap opera world keep turning
And who could have remembered about the color of your hair last year
Yes tonight the commuters all lie dreaming
About gray flannel suits and a typewriter army screaming
The windows are all facing out of town
As the day makes it way past the old maid teacher sighing
But I just remember how it use to be
When life was natural and no one complained about dying
So come to the land of a thousand barbecues and I’ll hold your hand
If you just don’t tell me the time
But tonight be my sweet little Zelda dear
And we can hold our breath and we’ll see whose really fooling
All the soldiers are holding their guns real tight
As they name the boys in letters to their mothers
And singles keep swinging all through the night
Disregarding both their health and their alma maters
But low and behold somebody is crawling
He still thinks he can make it in the underground
And I see that this movie is all sold out
But I guess that’s the price of exposing yourself in public
And the days of the Stereo Indians end
Because a tie is now required everywhere except heaven
And the chrome and the concrete they still try to defend
All the morals that still lie East of Eden and oh how I remember
When I was just two feet and I really felt close to the earth
And the calendar goes by so fast on the screen
And the old days are here again forever and the fast draw is constantly getting better and the uncola is trying to get wilder and wetter
And do I have to do this just to earn a high school letter
REFLECTIONS ON THE FOG
Just like those classical books sitting on your shelf
You never gave a thought to yourself and the way things begin
Just like some overdosed junkie on a crucifix
You’re going down your list – crossing off your sins
And oh – how they bow and scrape to his majesty
And these bloodied young executives scream it was him or me
And I’m lost in this search for teenage ecstasy
And Jimi’s got flocks of little black angels sitting next to him
And I’m on the corner feeling for luck with a blind man’s can of tin
And Coney Island babies ride roller coasters straight out on a limb
Won’t you come back once more – baby come back once more?
Just like some forties movie you’re a detective now
Never mattered anyhow – adding up the clues
And baby I could write these ten-dollar words all night long
You say it’s only a song – don’t you paint it that blue
And oh how I’ve lied, crossed my fingers and held my breath
When I see these signs pointing to endlessness
And I keep my room so clean but my mind is a mess
And Jimi held notes that lasted for hours – that I heard for days
And just when I changed my watch to monthly
The years turned to haze – and centuries steal all the crumbs of a lifetime
Times getting so crazed coming back once more – baby come back once more
Just like I said I’m lost in this teenage ecstasy
And I held her tight but I lost the key
And as she walked away I screamed it could have been me
And the heavens laughed and said man can’t you see
There’s no place for you in this Dead Sea
And I raised my fist high and said it could have been me
It could have been me – touch me till I bleed
Baby comes back once more
Just like the aftermath the storm was through
The gods had taken their due left us all behind
It hides behind the bend
It’s just that kind
And oh how the fog reflects what’s so very clear
And like wheel chair presidents they had nothing to fear
And Jimi’s got soul like a mothers labor
There’s no need to hide
And baby puts her arms around my shoulder and says
Let’s go outside
Put that art on automatic pilot and she winks her eye
Coming back once more
Baby coming back once more
IT’S UP TO YOU
Winter has come to this little town yellow school buses bring the kids around
I’m hiding out like some thief on the run
I’m hanging out in a local bar – it’s a lot of fun
And I was not color blind – though I saw red most of the time
I admit she was a friend of mine – though I thought of you all of the time
It was wrong right down the line – she was the wrong astrological sign
She was a Pisces too, but its up to you
Hey mister can you spare a dime
I’m gonna call my accountant he’s a good friend of mine
Money’s tight and that makes good sense
My pockets are empty and that’s no coincidence
You thought it was heaven sent – I thought you were kind of bent
Because I would rather live in a tent – and never make one red cent
When I started to pay the rent – it was putting my feet right in cement
You say – now that’s not true – but its up to you
And I wrote you at the time – I poured my heart into every line
I said baby I’m not your kind – it’s for your sake too
Never thought you’d sue – but it’s up to you
So if you see me on the streets at night – let’s say hello but let’s keep it light
Don’t mention the weather that’s much too heavy for me
Whatever you do don’t talk about your family
But its just a song I wrote – haven’t really lost my hope
You see I’m completely off the dope – except for an occasional smoke
I stay home and I listen to folk – I sit in the bathtub and I soak
For kicks I call dial a joke – I’m living on potato chips and coke
I write myself lots of nasty notes – I watch moves about sinking boats
And there’s a moral here too – but its up to you
Chorus
WHA DO YA KNOW
You been trying to cut out all your lying
Eat organic foods and stay clear of the TV show
You dig big deal romance and that means anything in hot pants
You know all the tricks you read them in your Cosmo
And you don’t get too high like just enough to get by
With all hip society at a high heel rodeo
What do ya know
Well you know just how to walk
And you know about who to talk
And you know how to make me gawk like a dog
But what do you know
What do you know
What do you know
You know many times I’ve seen you and once I even dreamed you
Were chasing me nude with an ax and my feet wouldn’t go
And you make me feel stupid when you ask what it is I been doing
And if I was cupid I know where to shoot you…oh no
I think we once were lovers though I’m sure there were others
Who thought they too were your number one Clark Gable beau
What do ya know
Chorus
You know fighting so crummy and it sure seems kind of funny
That when we make up it all seems part of the show
And I feel so above you that I guess I must love you
It all seems like some stupid high school joke
But if you come into my world
You’ll be my finest prize pearl
I know that’s a thing but I still got far to go
What do ya know
Chorus
THE BALLAD OF SAL PARADISE
Hit the road Jack
Do you remember Kerouac
Who’s that beatnik
With that gone chick
Hear the bop go
Dig the way the poets glow
And they drive into the wonder of the sad dark American night
Speed drenched highway
Dean Moriarity
Cat plays bongos
Calls you daddy-o
Just can’t sit tight
Gotta get out tonight
So we drive into the wonder of the sad dark American night
He must have gotten harder
Before he moved to Florida
Or maybe just the flame died
That he turned up so high
Hey all you college kids
Don’t do what your daddy did
Forget business management
Pick up on On The Road
Beat generation
First in the nation
Dealing with an atom bomb
Still can’t get a handle on
But I dig Kerouac
The first to know where it’s at
And we drive into the wonder of the sad dark American night
Drive into the beauty of the sad dark American night
Drive into the memory of the sad dark American night
All songs by Elliott Murphy – ℗ & © 2011 Elliott Murphy – Lyrics Reprinted by Permission
Aprés Le Déluge
EMIS/Hunter
1987
“It Feels Like”
Elliott Murphy – acoustic guitar, harmonica, vocal
Ernie Brooks – bass
Howie Wyeth – drums
Jennifer Jacobson, Ellen Shipley – backing vocals
T-Bone Wolk – electric guitar
Ralph Schuckett – piano
(Recorded Sundragon Studios, NYC – Late 70’s)
“Fan Mail”
Elliott Murphy – electric guitar, vocal
Ernie Brooks – bass
Mike Braun – drums
Steve Cataldo – electric guitar
Eric Troyer – electric Wurlitzer piano
(Recorded Electric Lady Studios, NYC Mid-70’s)
“Madalyn”
Elliott Murphy – J200 acoustic guitar, vocal
Ralph Schuckett – piano
Ellen Shipley – backing vocals
Kenny Laguna – harmonium
Ernie Brooks – bass
(Recorded NYC, early-80’s)
“What’s The Matter”
Elliott Murphy – acoustic guitar, vocal
East Egg Philharmonic Orchestra
(Recorded Lincoln Center basement late-70’s)
“Razor Love”
Elliott Murphy – J200 acoustic guitar, harmonica, vocal
(Recorded Electric Lady Studios, NYC Mid-70’s)
“Jefferson Davis Continental”
Elliott Murphy – electric guitar, harmonica, Vocal
Reggie Young – guitar
Indian Joe – bass
Hargus “Pig” Robbins- piano
(Recorded Nashville, Tennessee mid-70’s)
“Reflections On The Fog”
Elliott Murphy – phased Jimi guitar, vocal
Steve Cataldo – guitar
Ernie Brooks – bass
Eric Troyer – fender Rhodes piano, ARP
Mike Braun – drums
(Recorded Electric Lady Studio mid-70’s)
“It’s Up To You”
Elliott Murphy – Gibson J200 acoustic guitar, vocal
Kenny Laguna – drums
Ralph Schuckett – piano
Ernie Brooks – bass
(Recorded NYC late-70’s)
“Wha Do Ya Know”
Elliott Murphy – electric guitar, vocal
Ernie Brooks – bass, vocal
Andy Paley – drums
Jerry Harrison – Farfisa organ
(Recorded Boston mid-70’s)
“The Ballad Of Sal Paradise”
Elliott Murphy – electric guitar, vocal
Ernie Brooks – bass, backing vocals
Jesse Chamberlain – drums
Arthur Russell – keyboards
(Recorded Sundragon Studios, NYC early 80’s)
Record By Record, Murphy By Murphy: Aprés Le Déluge
Finally, I was working with a label (New Rose) where I could release what I wanted and so I started looking through old tapes, mostly outtakes from the 70’s for this “rest of” collection. I still remember writing “Madelyn” on a Wurlitzer Electric piano out on Long Island while my mother sat nearby and watched TV. A real letter I received from a fan in the 70’s inspired “Fan Mail.”
Taken from Crossroads magazine.
About The Cover – “King Louis XIV”
The name came from a quote by Louis XIV who said “Apres moi le deluge” (After me will come the flood) which was not too far from the truth. He had drained so much of the French treasury building Versailles and fighting wars all over Europe. This was the first of a few compilations while the latest is Ricochet. Mostly filled with tracks recorded in the 70’s that were never released or only demos at the time. The cover shot was done (I think) at La Palace in Paris during my first French concert in 1979 – the show that changed my life. I still have my 1961 Fender Strat but not that custom-made black leather suit which eventually disintegrated. It should have been buried in Père-Lachaise with Jim Morrison.
Liner Notes
Most of this is from the seventies. I never meant to release any of it but my historical perspective has changed considerably and dust can add romance.
“It Feels Like” was inspired by a Talking Heads performance at CBGB’s in 1977. Around that same time I did an interview with Punk Magazine, which was never printed. I complained about the lack of love in punk music. By the way, Frankie Lyman sang “Why Do Fools Fall in Love” with The Teenagers in the fifties and achieved a fame from which he never recovered. “Fan Mail” is an outtake from the demo sessions for Night Lights. It was also the basis for a never developed musical about the inherent dangers of rock stardom. At the end I’m yelling at the engineer to “Fade me! Fade me!” I do hope no one took me too literally. “Madalyn” was written in Amagansett during the long winter of ‘78. The melody came first on a Wurlitzer electric piano and it was my mom, Josephine, who suggested the title after hearing it. That’s Ellen Shipley singing the harmony. Visiting my friend Bob Feiden in the hospital inspired “What’s The Matter” and that’s me playing the dirge piano along with some impressive orchestration.
“Razor Love” was written before Aquashow but this acoustic version was done in 1980 at the time of my EP Affairs. The reference to famous thrill killers Leopold and Loeb is rather obscure and dates from my pre-teens when my hero was famous 1920’s lawyer Clarence Darrow who defended the duo. “Jefferson Davis Continental” was recorded in Nashville, Tennessee before Night Lights and bears a slight resemblance to a song on that album. In Nashville I became obsessed with Hank Williams after seeing his guitar in a museum. My own grandfather grew up in Tupelo, Mississippi and a southern accent always agrees with me. “Reflections On The Fog” is a rather long opus and contains some of my edgiest singing to date. The first line should be “Classical books sitting on your shelf” not “self” as I mispronounced it. My band and I rehearsed this song and others in a rented beach house out on Long Island before coming into Electric Lady Studios to record around 1975. “It’s Up To You” was written in Amagansett in the fall of 1978 and I remember watching a movie about the Titanic with guitar in hand and divorce papers on my desk – that’s how songs like this get written.
I don’t remember who “Wha Do Ya Know” was written about but now I find myself “eating organic foods and staying clear of the TV show.” The curse of rock ‘n roll: One day your songs will know more about you then you know about them. Thanks to Willie Alexander for “The Ballad Of Sal Paradise” because it was after listening to his song “Kerouac” that I started reading Jack the Typer again. I had read On the Road in the Sixties but this time around I was blown away by what I now think to be the finest American poetic prose since the late great Scott Fitzgerald. When Jack Kerouac died in 1969 I cut his picture out of the New York Times obituary, mounted it on black paper and hung it next to my bed in Garden City. In the photo he was clutching a baby doll on New Years Eve in 1957.
As far as I can tell the only musician who played on (nearly) all of this is my dear friend and bassist Ernie Brooks and I thank him for his many years of dedication.
Why Aprés Le Déluge? Well this is what’s left over (some of it) after my stormy career of the seventies from that mythical time long ago when we thought our youth was eternal and the rebels were fighting in the mountains.
Apres Le Deluge is a collection of outtakes from Elliott Murphy’s 1970s recording sessions, put together by EMIS (the Elliott Murphy Information Society) for fans. Some songs are similar, lesser versions of tunes that later turned up on Murphy albums. While the album does not contain Murphy’s best material, and the recordings are a little rough, the performances are often spirited and there are nearly as many strong lyrics as on the albums from which these songs were dropped.
William Ruhlmann – AllMusic
Click on any red link for images of each release.
Vinyl LPs
France:
Fan Club Records FC 034
Cassettes
US:
EMIS/Hunter 101458
CDs
US:
GBMusic GB1021 (2011)
France:
Fan Club Recoreds FC 034
Musidisc 120492 (1996)
Japan:
Teichiku Records TECP-25652 (1991)
Century Records CECC-00650 (1994)
Spain:
Betibù BT005-02 (1996)
Please note: If you have additions or corrections to this discography, please send them to the webmaster.
