See the Smoke

by Double Plow

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about

"Rock 'n roll in the canonical sense!" So said F5 Music Review when describing Double Plow. As though it were ordained from above, the band led by the brothers Dwayne "Buzzard" and Jimmy James Norris aspires to nothing less than the resuscitation of roots rock 'n roll. Scorching guitar licks and anthemic choruses abound in Double Plow's new release, SEE THE SMOKE. Musically, the band delves into the rock of the 60's and 70's, swing and rockabilly, London and Muscle Shoals, hillbilly/Americana rock, and the blues... always the blues. Lyrically, Double Plow tangles with immigration, booty shakin', cannibalism, cars, girls, living in the present, sex, alcohol, drifting, moon goddesses, murder, haystack trysts, election rigging, and... love.
Capturing the feel of their indefatigable, eclectic live shows, this CD represents the pinnacle of Plowism thus far. Shawn Peters, creator of the Crumbesque cartoon cover art, rolls the bones and keeps every song jumpin' and dancin'. Andy Dunn lays down thick bass lines guaranteed to drive booties to shakin'.
If you're searching for an album that combines fun-loving party music with classic songwriting and intelligence, look no further.

credits

released 20 February 2013

Written by the Norris Brothers
Produced, Mixed, and Mastered by Jimmy James Norris
Engineered by Fernando Moore at Que? Studios, Albuquerque, NM
Performed by Double Plow and friends:
Dwayne "Buzzard" Norris: vocals, harmonica
Jimmy James Norris: guitars
Shawn Peters: drums and percussion
Andy Dunn: bass
Josiel Perez: trumpet
Tracy Norris and Brenda Finley: yarnspinning

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Track Name: Can't See the Smoke
Can’t See the Smoke
When the world turns upside over and the bottom land’s on top
The big bang you hear openin’ your ears is the sound of your bubble poppin’.
And when the world turns topsy-turvy and your neighbors become foes,
Is it your concern if your neighbor’s house burns long as you can’t see the smoke?
Don’t plan ahead for when you’re in the red. Lord knows you gotta cash in now.
Don’t teach the kids, just build more prisons, and keep yourself 3 meals from cannibalism
And don’t sweat it!

Shake your booty to the big bass drum.
You really accent your figure with that gunbelt on.
Shake your booty to the big bass drum
‘Til the Kingdom Come… ‘til the Kingdome Come, ya’all.

Well, they gave the order to seal the border behind a steel and concrete wall
But a tidal wave of humanity is bound to cause that wall to fall.
Too many folks sick o’ wearin’ yokes and never make enough to get by.
Just what would you do when there ain’t no food and you hear your baby start to cry?
Mexico-co’s about to blow ‘neath a wave of guns and coke.
It ain’t your concern if your neighbor’s house burns long as you can’t see the smoke.

Shake your booty to the big bass drum…

With a slide to the Right and much spin, it ain’t hard to pretend
That this ain’t the way that the world ends.
So, shake it on down, you and all your girlfriends.
Track Name: Cars and Girls
Cars and Girls
Well, now, they say thirsty cars done drove the world to war.
You can fight it, riot, it all comes to nothin’. We need less politics and more lovin’.
Remember 4 on the floor with 2 GTOs revved and rarin’ to go,
8 miles to the gallon and you thinkin’ you’re the alpha stallion?
She start twitchin’ when you kick it. Come here, baby, now it’s your turn.
Let’s get with it and get wicked. Feel the pulse, the speed, and the burn.

I don’t wanna hear no more sad sad songs about the endless woes of the world.
What we need’s another rock ‘n roll song about real hot cars and real fast girls.

5 times a day, every time I kneel down to pray,
It seems the only Bein’ listenin’ is some suit from the NSA.
Can’t find a job. Seems the whole world’s in the red.
But that won’t make its way into my new song.
I done flushed that shit right out o’ my head.
I want ankles up on headrests, footprints on my windowshield,
Mired up in the love and the mud, buried deep in the field.

And don’t wanna hear no more sad sad songs about the endless woes of the world…

Every time I hear them sing: “Let freedom and the cash registers ring!”,
My mind wanders back to what Muddy said:
“The whole world’s fightin’ ‘bout that same thang!”
Like swishin’ hips, like puckered lips,
A little hint o’ blood in every sweet taste of a sister’s love
And spinnin’ wheels, ecstatic squeals.
Man, you can can the chase. I just dig the thrill of the kill.

And I don’t wanna hear no more sad sad songs…
Track Name: Livin' For Today
Livin’ For Today
Felonious Fred came into town, said I stole his woman, gonna cut me down.
Oh yeah, that’s what he said. Said if he caught me ‘live, he gonna leave me dead.
He pulled out a knife but I had a gun. For a $2 bill, let you guess who won.
Oh yeah, it was cut and dry. I didn’t dance around but now I gotta tell the people why:

“I been down before, but I won’t be down no more. I’m livin’ for today.
I’m like an avalanche down a mountainside. You got the choice to hide
Or get on outta my way. “

Well I dusted off my hands and lit out for the shack
Where I found my little woman layin’ on her back,
Oh yeah, havin’ one o’ them dreams about makin’ sweet love ‘neath the soft sunbeams.
So, I cut me a switch and ran off the kids. Give you 2 more guesses what I did then,
Oh yeah, in the middle of the day when the heart beats strong.
Ain’t that the perfect way?

See, I been down before, but I won’t be down no more. I’m livin’ for today.
I’m like an avalanche down a mountainside. You got the choice to hide
Or get on outta my way cuz I’m livin’ for today.
And if I live to see the sun fade into night,
I’ll be drunker than the devil in the pale moonlight.
Track Name: Who Needs a Man
Who Needs A Man
I got a whole in my heart, baby, somethin’ missin’ within.
I got a whole in my heart, baby, that’s where the darkness come in.
I’m lookin’ to you, sweet sugar, to bring the sun back again
Cuz I’m just the kind o’ man who needs a woman…
Who needs a man.

I get lots of useful advice like: “Boy, you mind the main chance.
Just keep both your eyes on the prize, boy, and surely you will advance.”
But there ain’t no greenback dollar bills can cure my ills or my pain
Cuz I’m just the kind o’ man who needs a woman…
Who needs a man.

I don’t need a bottle in front o’ me. I don’t need a frontal lobotomy to see
That I got it cuz I got you and you got it.
And what I need’s for you to lay a little taste on me.

You tell me: “A man is just a god cloaked in bone and skin.”
You tell me that heaven’s a-waitin’ if I can close my mouth and my eyes to sin.
You tell me that all my fleshly desires are the cause of my sufferin’.
But I’m just the kind o’ man who needs a woman…
Who needs a man.

I don’t need to be the king of the deep blue sea.
I don’t need nobody to bow down to me to see
That I done got it cuz I got you and you got it.
And what I need’s for you to lay a little taste on me.
“Come here, baby. Stop actin’ so crazy.” You know who needs a man!
Track Name: Adventures of the Big D (Part 1)
Tracy: "Daddy wanted to be drunk and loose in the U.S. of A. and Momma wanted to be with Daddy to keep him from havin' any fun."
Brenda: "We always pretended there was nothin' wrong with him... that this was normal livin'.
And, then, when he was sober, we was all in church, good as gold, better 'n gold... saints almost!"
Tracy: "So, one weekend the Big D did not go to church and preach and pray and sang and praise the Lord. He got drunk and left! And the next we heard from him, he was in Chamberlain, South Dakota. You got to know that when you're from Ken-tucky in the 1950s, you have no idea where in the hell Chamberlain, South Dakota is."
Track Name: Backslider
Backslider
I woke up in St. Louis, probably crash tonight in Georgia,
Drinkin’ like a sailor and fightin’ like a soldier,
Wearin’ badness like a badge, corruption like a crown.
You know I love ya, baby, but it’s only fair to warn ya:
While I’m stuck here in Kentucky, I’m dreamin’ o’ California.
Heard it said: “The only way to keep it up is just to never slow down.”

But, Lord, I have tried. I do the best I can.
But I was born to fly as high as Superman.
I’m a backslider, baby, born to ramble and roam.
Call me “Smoke” cuz when the wind blows, honey, I’ll be gone.

If absence makes the heart grow fonder, I doubt you’ll soon forget me.
If I ain’t in jail, just check the mail, and I’ll write from Rapids City.
Right now, all that I can say is I got to move.
I know that you’s a-wishin’ I’s a different kind o’ creature,
Singin’ in the choir, Sunday dinner with the preacher.
But to me, there ain’t no differences between a grave and a groove.

But, Lord I have tried…

Sunday mornin’, while you’re listenin’ to the deacon
Discoursin’ on sin, you know of whom he’ll be speakin’.
But I’ll be out there somewhere, freedom flappin’ in the breeze.
Don’t get me wrong now, I ain’t sayin’
That I ain’t in need of a whole lotta prayin’.
I just prefer to live on my bootheels than die on my knees.

But, Lord, I have tried…
Track Name: Moonlight Mama
Moonlight Mama
Moonlight Mama, oh yeah, you got the night-colored hair.
You got the stars in your eyes. You make the sap in me rise.
I’m a moonstruck fool for ya.
You shine your light down on me, baby.
The creatures of the night, we all howlin’ your name.

Moonlight Mama, hey hey, ain’t got no use for the day.
The only time you come ‘round is when the daylight in the darkness is drowned.
I’m a moonstruck fool for ya.
You shine your light down on me, baby,
And the creatures of the night they all howlin’ your name.

Moonlight Mama, lawd lawd, you can’t believe what you saw.
You shined your light ‘cross the land, colored the blood on my hands.
I’m a moonstruck fool for ya.
You shine your light on my deeds and my misdeeds and reveal to me all I am
and all I can be.
Track Name: Country Time
Country Time
Cows in the meadow and the hay’s in the barn
And the twilight come singin’ her nightsong to the farm.
So, I stoke up a fire and I throw the hoe down,
Can’t help but smile so many miles from the town
Because here come my baby through the tall oak trees.
She ain’t nothin’ but a woman with delectable needs.
She got a swing in her step. She got a gleam in her eye.
I don’t need no dinnerbell to tell me it’s suppertime
Because I’m on Country Time.

I got this ol’ guitar, fits in my calloused hands
And I don’t give a damn if the boat never lands
Long as the rains keep comin’ and the summer sun shines,
Little sup o’ whiskey and I’ll be doin’ just fine.
I said, we got each other, Mother, and that’s all that we need.
See me grinnin’, sittin’ flush on my fat sack o’ seeds.
The smoke’s a-rollin’, good times are flowin’,
And we ain’t gonna stop ‘til that all cock starts to crowin’
Because I’m on Country Time.

No car alarms, just fields and farms and a couple country honeys hangin’ on my arms.
Doe see doe, meet Cotton Eye Joe.
Honey, take me down, show me where the wild things grow.
Spread your patchwork quilt on an ol’ haystack,
Gonna sew it up and throw it in the sack.
It’s like sweet wine flowin’ from an endless fountain.
I dig them mountains… but gimme some o’ that country.
Track Name: Election Day
Election Day
Come closer, little ones. I got a yarn to spin for you
About the way things once were done and the way they still are too.
Though he never ran for office, when it come election day
Ol’ Uncle Grampa’d deliver up the goods and then he’d dance away.

Uncle Grampa was a farmin’ man, a green thumb, that’s for sure,
Needed nothin’ but his double plow, his double mule, his double hoe.
So humble when you’d see him choppin’ ‘backer, bailin’ hay.
But he become a kingmaker when it come election day.

He’d give ‘em 15 US dollars, a pint o’ government whiskey too.
Ain’t too damn much a poor ol’ country can’t do.
Crawl out of your holler, holler out and go get paid.
Uncle Grampa’s comin’ ‘round and today’s election day.

Looky here:
A poor man can’t eat promises. He can’t ease his misery
Subsistin’ on a diet of photo-op democracy.
Gotta give him little somethin’ worth somethin’ right here in this life:
Strong drink to warm his belly, a little cash to warm his wife.

Every politicker got a tongue just like a fork.
You can look forward to a good screwin’ regardless who you go votin’ for.
These days you don’t get no liquor, damn sure don’t get no pay.
They’ll throw a monkey wrench in a vote machine
And throw your vote away.
But if you knew shit from shanola and wanted to elected be
Throw Uncle Grampa a roll o’ tens and a case o’ cheap whiskey.
He’d scour ridges in the pines the sun had never kissed
And bring you out at least a hunerd votes you did not know exist.

15 U.S. dollars, a pint o’ government whiskey too,
Ain’t too damn much a poor ol’ country boy cant do.
Crawl out of your holler, holler out, and go get paid.
Uncle Grampa’s comin’ ‘round and today’s election day.