November, The Black Rider, Tom Waits [206]
As we try to unpick some of the interplay between the album The Black Rider and the play of the same name, Jeu Jeu la Foille, Martin & Sam reflect (pun intended) on the fatalistic imagery in the song, the foreshadowing of endings and beginnings, and the benefits of bonfire-building in awkward social situations. website: songbysongpodcast.com twitter: @songbysongpod e-mail: songbysongpodcast@gmail.com Music extracts used for illustrative/review purposes include: November, The Black Rider, Tom Waits (1993) April Showers, Judy, Judy Garland (1956) We think your Song by Song experience will be enhanced by hearing, in full, the songs featured in the show, which you can get hold of from your favourite record shop or online platform. Please support artists by buying their music, or using services which guarantee artists a revenue - listen responsibly. Lyrics - November No shadow No stars No moon No cars November It only believes In a pile of dead leaves And a moon That's the color of bone No prayers for November To linger longer Stick your spoon in the wall We'll slaughter them all November has tied me To an old dead tree Get word to April To rescue me November's cold chain Made of wet boots and rain And shiny black ravens On chimney smoke lanes November seems odd You're my firing squad November With my hair slicked back With carrion shellac With the blood from a pheasant And the bone from a hare Tied to the branches Of a roebuck stag Left to wave in the timber Like a buck shot flag Go away you rainsnout Go away blow your brains out November