Music
One Take Radio Sessions [EP]
Album Credits
Mark Knopfler: vocals & guitars
Richard Bennett: guitars
Jim Cox & Matt Rollings: keys
Glenn Worf: bass
Chad Cromwell: drums
Recorded at Shangri-La Studios, Malibu, California
Protools operated by Rodney Pearson
Neve modules loaned and delivered by Steffan & Mark Fantini
Mixed at BackStage at Soundstage Studios, Nashville
Engineered & mixed by Chuck Ainlay
Mastered by Bob Ludwig at Gateway mastering & DVD, Maine
Produced by Chuck Ainlay & Mark Knopfler
All songs written by Mark Knopfler
Released: Warner Bros. (2005)
One Take Radio Sessions [EP]
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1.
The Trawlerman’s Song
We’re taking on water
Diesel and stores
Laying up awhile
Before I’m back on board
They’re patching her up
To go fishing again
They’re welding her rudder
Scrubbing her keel
Scars on her belly
Need time to heal
In the dock
With the trawlermen I know all the people
There’s nobody new
Soon we’ll be leaving
With the same old crew
On the green water
The tumbling sea
They ain’t running
Like the good old days
Time’s just slipping
Down the old slipways
In the dock
So dear to me
Dark is the night
I need a guiding light
To keep me
From foundering
On the rocks
My only prayer
Is just to see you there
At the end
Of my wandering
Back in the dock
I could use a layoff
Getting my strength back
But there’s a loan to pay off
And a few skipjack
So it’s a turnaround
Back in the southerly wind
Pirates coming in
To steal our gold
You can count yourself lucky
With a profit in the hold
In the dock
When we come in
Dark is the night
I need a guiding light
To keep me
From foundering
On the rocks
My only prayer
Is just to see you there
At the end
Of my wandering
Back in the dock -
2.
Back To Tupelo
Around the time of ‘clambake’
Movie number twenty-five
You and the lying dutchman
Are still in overdrive
You’re as strong as when you started
Mississippi in your soul
You can still be Marlon Brando
And the king of rock and roll
It isn’t just the records
No, you must have Hollywood
The songs alone are not enough
That much is understood
You’ll soon be back in Memphis
Maybe then you’ll know what to do
The storylines they’re giving you
Are just not ringing true
Oh, it’s a ways to go
Back to Tupelo
When you’re young and beautiful
Your dreams are all ideals
Later on it’s not the same
Lord, everything is real
Sixteen hundred miles of highway
Roll back to the truth
And a song to give your mother
In your first recording booth
Around the time of ‘clambake’
That old dream’s still rolling on
Sometimes there’ll be the feeling
Things are going wrong
The morning star is fading
Lord, the Mississippi’s cold
You can still be Marlon Brando
And the king of rock and roll
But it’s a ways to go
Back to Tupelo
ADDITIONAL MUSICIANS
Doug Pettibone: electric guitar -
3.
Song For Sonny Liston
So many mouths
To feed on the farm
Sonny was the second
To the last one born
His mamma ran away
And his daddy beat him bad
And he grew up wild
Good love he never had
He had a left
Like Henry’s hammer
A right like Betty bamalam
Rode with the muggers
In the dark and dread
And all them sluggers
Went down like lead
Well he hung with the hoods
He wouldn’t stroke the fans
But he had dynamite
In both his hands
Boom bam
Like the slammer door
The bell and the can
And the bodies on the floor
Beware the bear’s in town
Somebody’s money says
The bear’s going down
Yeah, the bear never smiles
Sonny’s going down
For miles and miles
Sonny’s going down
For miles and miles
The writers didn’t like him
The fight game jocks
With his lowlife backers
And his hands like rocks
They didn’t want to have
A bogey man
They didn’t like him
And he didn’t like them
Black Cadillac
Alligator boots
Money in the pockets
Of his sharkskin suits
Some say the bear
Took a flop
They couldn’t believe it
When they saw him drop
He had a left
Like Henry’s hammer
A right like Betty bamalam
Rode with the muggers
In the dark and dread
And all them sluggers
Went down like lead
Joe Louis was his hero
He tried to be the same
But a criminal child
Wears a ball and chain
So the civil rights people
Didn’t want him on the throne
And the hacks and the cops
Wouldn’t leave him alone
Beware the bear’s in town
Somebody’s money says
The bear’s going down
Yeah, the bear never smiles
Sonny’s going down
For miles and miles
Sonny’s going down
For miles and miles
At the foot of his bed
With his feet on the floor
There was dope in his veins
And a pistol on the drawer
There was no investigation
As such
He hated needles
But he knew too much
Criss-crossed
On his back
Scars from his daddy
Like slavery tracks
The second-last child
Was the second-last king
Never again was it the same
In the ring
He had a left
Like Henry’s hammer
A right like Betty bamalam
Rode with the muggers
In the dark and dread
And all them sluggers
Went down like lead
They never could be sure
About the day he was born
A motherless child
Set to working on the farm
And they never could be sure
About the day he died
The bear was the king
They cast aside
Beware the bear’s in town
Somebody’s money says
The bear’s going down
Yeah, the bear never smiles
Sonny’s going down
For miles and miles
Sonny’s going down
For miles and miles -
4.
Rüdiger
Rüdiger stands in the rain and the snow
Collector of autographs
Names upon photographs
Faces of people who everyone knows
Rüdiger lives in a place on his own
Briefcase and spectacles
Strange and respectable
He knows the meaning of being alone
Rüdiger works as a clerk in the town
Music or politics
Rüdiger gets his kicks
He gets information then he comes around
Rüdiger waits at the hall in Berlin
He waits there all night
Security’s tight
They know who he is but they don’t let him in
Rüdiger waits in the dark by the stair
His fingers are shaking
His feet they are aching
But your name’s in the paper so Rüdiger’s there
CREDITS
Mark Knopfler: guitars
Richard Bennett: acoustic guitar
Paul Franklin: pedal steel guitar
Matt Rollings: piano
Steve Nathan: keyboards
Michael Rhodes: bass
Eddie Bayers: drums
Danny Cummings: percussion & backing vocals
Heike Barthe: backing vocals -
5.
Boom, Like That
I’m going to San Bernardino
Ring-A-Ding-Ding
Milkshake mixers that’s my thing now
These guys bought a heap of my stuff
And I gotta see a good thing sure enough now
Or my name’s not Kroc,
that’s Kroc with a K
Like crocodile but not spelled that way now
It’s Dog eat dog, rat eat rat
Kroc style
Boom, like that
Folks line up all down the street
Now I am seeing this girl devour her meat now
And then I get it, Wham
As clear as day
My pulse begins to hammer
And I hear a voice say:
‘These boys have got this down
Oughtta to be a one of these in every town’
‘These boys have got the touch
It’s clean as a whistle and it don’t cost much
Wham bam you don’t wait long,
shake, fries patty, you’re gone
How about that friendly name
heck, every little thing oughtta stay the same’
Or my name’s not Kroc,
that’s Kroc with a K
Like crocodile but not spelled that way now
It’s Dog eat dog, rat eat rat
It’s Dog eat dog, rat eat rat
Kroc style
Boom like that
You gentlemen ought to expand
You’re gonna need a helping hand, now
So gentlemen well, what about me?
We’ll make a little business history now
Or my name’s not Kroc,
Call me Ray
Like crocodile but not spelled that way now
It’s Dog eat dog, rat eat rat
Kroc style
Boom like that
Well we build it up and I buy ‘em out
But man they made me grind it out now
They open up a new place flipping meat
So I do too, right across the street
I got the name I need the town,
they sell up in the end and it all shuts down
Sometimes you gotta be an S.O.B.
You wanna make a dream reality
Competition send ‘em south,
If they’re gonna drown put a hose in their mouth
Do not pass ‘go’ go straight to hell
I smell that meat hook smell
Or my name’s not Kroc
that’s Kroc with a K
Like crocodile but not spelled that way, now
Ohh it’s dog eat dog, rat eat rat
Dog eat dog, rat eat rat now
Ohh it’s dog eat dog, rat eat rat
Kroc style – Boom like that
ADDITIONAL MUSICIANS
Doug Pettibone: electric guitar -
6.
Everybody Pays
I got shot off my horse
So what? I’m up again
And playing
In one of these
Big saloons on main
You can come up here
Take a look
Around these sinners’ dens
You’re only ever going to find
One or two real games
Nobody’s driving
Me underground
Not yet anyway
But either on the strip
Or on the edge of town
Everybody pays
Everybody pays to play
Yeah, you ought to stay
Right where you are
In sawdust land
It’s probably the
Safest place to be
With your
Greasy little pork pies
And your shoestring hands
It makes
No difference to me
All those directions
Which we never took
To go our different ways
Who went and wrote
The oldest story in the book?
Everybody pays
Everybody pays to play
Curl up inside
A boxcar dream
And disappear
With a couple
Low roller friends
You were never one
For trouble
So get out of here I knew the game
Was dangerous back then
But nobody’s breezing
Through these swinging doors
Just ups and walks away
Everybody has to leave
Some blood here on the floor
Everybody pays
Everybody pays to play -
7.
Donegan’s Gone
Donegan’s gone, Lonnie Donegan
Donegan’s gone
Gone, Lonnie Donegan
Donegan’s gone
Play that big grand coulee dam
Nobody loves like an irishman
Gone, Lonnie Donegan
Donegan’s gone
Donegan’s gone, Lonnie Donegan
Donegan’s gone
Gone, Lonnie Donegan
Donegan’s gone
Lord, I’m just a rolling stone
Rock my soul I wanna go home
Gone, Lonnie Donegan
Donegan’s gone
Donegan’s gone, Lonnie Donegan
Donegan’s gone
Gone, Lonnie Donegan
Donegan’s gone
Stackalee and a gamblin’ man
Rock my soul in the bosom of Abraham
Gone, Lonnie Donegan
Donegan’s gone
Donegan’s gone, Lonnie Donegan
Donegan’s gone
Gone, Lonnie Donegan Donegan’s gone
Time just goes on rolling by
Lord, I feel like I could cry
Gone, Lonnie Donegan
Donegan’s gone -
8.
Stand Up Guy
Brew the coffee in a bucket
Double straight man and banjo
If you don’t got the snake oil
Buster, you don’t got a show
Who puts the doh-re-me
In our pockets
Keeps the party going on?
It’s the man
Who sells the potions
I’m just one who plays the songs
Now they generally buys
The bigger size
They usually rub it in
I drank it once, it tasted
Like grease and paraffin
It’s mostly alcohol, okay
You can’t deny it’s strong
We was going through the motions
’til the doctor came along
There stands the bottle
Ladies and gentlemen
All these bottles
Don’t have to tell you, friends
These days, miracles
Don’t come falling from the sky
Raise your glasses to the doctor
To a stand up guy
When the monkeyshine is flying
And he’s promising the cure
He says the french
For your lovesick blues
La maladie d’amour
He gets the chumps all laughing
But he gets a few to buy
Here’s to beefsteak
When you’re hungry
And whiskey when you’re dry
Now the band’ll blow their moolah
Like sailors gone ashore
Now we’re going to west helena
To gamble, drink and whore
Let’s you and me
All make whoopee
Here’s mud in your eye
Here’s to all the gals you ever want
And heaven when you die
There stands the bottle
Ladies and gentlemen
All these bottles
Don’t have to tell you, friends
These days miracles
Don’t come falling from the sky
Raise your glasses to the doctor
To a stand up guy
There’s a big cheese with a cigar
Been sizing up the show
He wants to get the doctor
Pitching on the radio
I will make a switch to guitar
But the rules all still apply
They want to trust somebody
Yeah, they want a stand up guy
There stands the bottle
Here’s to absent friends
All these bottles
Dead soldiers in the end
These days miracles
Don’t come falling from the sky
Raise your glasses to the doctor
To a stand up guy
To the doctor
A stand up guy
ADDITIONAL MUSICIANS
Doug Pettibone: mandolin