MUSIC

Album One Take Radio Sessions

One Take Radio Sessions [EP]

Released: Warner Bros. (2005)

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

One Take Radio Sessions [EP]

  • 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