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Long Gone Time

by Kevin Gordon

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    For the vinyl release of Long Gone Time, the original sequence was restored--all the acoustic tracks on disc 1; all the electric "band" tracks on disc 2. Plus, a bonus track, "If You Will", is included not available on previous download or CD versions of the record. Download card enclosed for .wav or .mp3 versions of all songs on the vinyl release.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Long Gone Time via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 4 days

      $35 USD or more 

     

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Produced by Joe V. McMahan (CD includes BONUS TRACK, "Following a Sign") Voted one of the Top Ten releases of 2015 by Nashville Scene's 2015 Critics' Poll. Design by Keith Brogdon.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Long Gone Time via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 2 days

      $16 USD or more 

     

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $10 USD  or more

     

1.
All in the Mystery ©Kevin Gordon/Colin Linden/Gwil Owen(Little Rain Music(BMI)/Colin Linden Publishing(SOCAN)/Turgid Tunes(BMI)) You might be sitting in the shade off of highway 3 Selling honey off the hood of your LTD With a hole in your shoe and a ringing in your ear Wondering how in the hell did you wind up here In a folding chair, neath the birds and the bees It’s all in the mystery Standing at the bar, sipping on that rye You feel so good you could almost cry If the clock would stop then you could stay Drink all night to wash away your day But the lights come up, c’est la vie All in the mystery All in the mystery Take it where you find it All in the mystery Heaven knows you might not mind it Stranded in a motel far from home Ain’t nobody moving til the storm is gone Bumpin’ and a-thumpin’ going on next door Could be love or it could be war Could be all the same to me All in the mystery
2.
GTO 03:31
GTO ©Kevin Gordon(Little Rain Music(BMI)) Daddy got a job at T.L. James, bought himself a GTO Daddy got a job at T.L. James, bought himself a GTO Had a little baby boy and a pretty wife It was pedal to the metal to the gettin’ good life Horn-rimmed glasses, pocket protector on his shirt Horn-rimmed glasses, pocket protector on his shirt Looked like some uptight, upright, church-going nerd but he loved to hear that carburetor rumble and purr Quick and quiet as a switchblade knife Pedal to the metal to the gettin’ good life Full moon over Woodlawn, full moon over Cedar Grove Full moon over Woodlawn, full moon over Cedar Grove Early next morning Mama put the coffee on Looked out the window and the GTO was gone Glass in the driveway, skid marks out on the road Glass in the driveway, skid marks out on the road Talking to the cops, say they didn’t hear a sound Hot-wire spark, joyride bound Quick and quiet as a switchblade knife Pedal to the metal to the gettin’ good life Three days later, the ugly truth was revealed Three days later, the ugly truth was revealed Sergeant called my daddy, said to file a claim “We pulled your GTO out of Cross Lake with a chain Two black boys done it and we got ‘em in the Caddo jail” He said "it was two black boys done it and we got ‘em in the jail" I never knew why it mattered that they were black The GTO was gone it wasn’t ever coming back Quick and quiet as a switchblade knife Pedal to the metal to the gettin’ good life Daddy got a job at T.L. James, bought himself a GTO Daddy got a job at T.L. James, bought himself a GTO Had a little baby boy and a pretty wife It was pedal to the metal to the gettin’ good life Quick and quiet as a switchblade knife Pedal to the metal to the gettin’ good life
3.
Letter to Shreveport ©Kevin Gordon(Little Rain Music(BMI)) Letter to Shreveport Black ink between blue lines Letter to Shreveport Black ink between blue lines Still got some people there Still see them in my mind Hot coffee in a percolator Drop biscuits on the stove Coffee in a tin percolator Drop biscuits on the stove Johnny Horton on the radio You don’t hear that no more Message to Monroe Dialing down to Baton Rouge Message to Monroe Dialing down to Baton Rouge I’m on the outside now Can’t get a line back through Talking to Brownie Ford Or was it: he was talking to me Talking to Brownie Ford Or was it: he was talking to me He said “Don’t let em mess with your music Keep it real, keep it free— For me”
4.
Walking on the Levee ©Kevin Gordon(Little Rain Music(BMI)) Summer Sunday morning, no one else around I’m walking on the levee, between the river and the town Water’s moving fast, streets are slow Gonna go a little farther, past the part I know Wasp on the grass, a floating red thorn Sun coming up, day being born In that big house last night where I played my guitar Everyone’s still sleeping off what they drank at the bar Or are they making quiet love ‘neath the turning of a fan— Did they wake to the sound of dogs barking at a man? I grew up down the road, it’s been 40 years Walking on the levee now, I’m a stranger here Read the graffiti on the pump station wall: “I heart Amber” in a red sprayed scrawl “Did you ever have a dream you’re sure was real?” “What does God hide—what does God reveal?” Her daddy had a houseboat docked right down there I still remember her kiss, the smell of her hair That boat burned and sank 25 years ago Karen died by lightning strike, I was told Walking on the levee, pretty ghost at my side The past and the present all caught in my eye
5.
Shotgun Behind the Door ©Kevin Gordon(Little Rain Music(BMI)) The old man and his mind Were tucked inside The little house on Quinton Street Jesus peered down From a frame on the wall From the dark garden of Gethsemane Friday night roared Through summer window screens Engines racing, siren sound In the city he sees, behind his eyes Trouble’s face is always a shade of brown I don’t know What I don’t know In this world anymore Say my prayers Knowing there’s A shotgun behind the door Watching Lawrence Welk From his easy chair White gloves, rhinestones glow No Detroit riot No Memphis march No troublemaker gonna stop the show There in the corner It leaned like a broom Stark against the wall In a parlor where No one would gather Nothing but dust would fall He said “You gotta watch yourself ‘Round here, grandson— Some fool come around, knock you in the head” But that old man died As old men will do In a morphine dream, in a nursing home bed
6.
Crowville 02:38
Crowville ©Kevin Gordon(Little Rain Music(BMI)) Red wing bird splits the sky Green grows wild on the highway side Just like they know you, Folks wave from the wheel Cars passing Crowville Out in the field, outside the wall Coyotes coming, hear ‘em call Running on hunger and free will Gone in the morning Crowville Little jambox blares from the ground Preacher’s voice like a tearing sound The Lord’s at hand and the devil’s on the kill Way down there Crowville Charles Ray, he’s long gone Ms. Martha carries on I hear us laughing with him still— Hand slaps the table Crowville Red wing bird splits the sky Green grows wild on the highway side Just like they know you, Folks wave from the wheel Cars passing Crowville
7.
Goodnight Brownie Ford ©Kevin Gordon(Little Rain Music(BMI)) The old man’s face A map of scars Straw Stetson brim Half Comanche They called him Brownie For his Indian skin I met him once In a cafe In my hometown In a corner singing Black Jack David, Don’t Let the Deal Go Down We called him back for more Goodnight Brownie Ford Just a kid Breaking horses Working wild west shows Rope and leather Cards and money Learning fast how the old song goes Declared me dead twice, he said But I never was that far gone Yeah that saddle bronc dragged me to the gates of heaven I couldn’t stay down long Dying ain’t what living’s for I snuck out that hospital ward Goodnight Brownie Ford Played his guitar From here to far Woodsmoke and campfire songs Float up to the stars til the night is gone I remember talking to him More likely, he was talking to me-- Saying “Don’t let ‘em mess with your music If you go to Tennessee” As the fire flared and died From his cigarette And he looked me in the eye to ask A riddle with his next breath-- All the free advice I could afford Got in his car and closed the door Goodnight Brownie Ford
8.
Immigrant 04:46
Immigrant ©Kevin Gordon(Little Rain Music(BMI)) Feel like a immigrant, baby, with the law on his heels Ain’t got no papers for the way I feel The man hunts you down, the world bleeds you dry Hangnail moon scraping ‘cross a sheet-metal sky Heart bouncing like a tin can inside my chest Pocket watch hanging from a black leather vest Hands stopped moving 30 years ago I still know when it’s time to go You can declare yourself in a bus station stall Carve your name with a knife in the paint on the wall Run the blade thru the guts of an old dog guitar They’re drinking up your blood in the butcher’s bar Monotone electric, the swarm of the traffic Holy souls all out among the plastic Jumping for the money, the fat and the chrome— Jesus watched from the window of the old folks’ home
9.
Church on Time ©Kevin Gordon(Little Rain Music(BMI)) I was up all night, working hard on the mountain Rollin’ eighty mile an hour on the way back down Back on the flats at 7:02 Sun coming up, I started thinking about you If that dashboard evangelist could’ve kissed your Sunday bedroom eyes He wouldn’t make it to church on time Preacher drive a Lincoln, deacon drive a Ford This old rust-bucket got four on the floor And a wide windshield full of distractions I want a pop-a-top, pawn shop piece of the action I was straight on my way to the tent revival When something on the corner shined I didn’t make it to church on time Yes I want to be good--like I should But I always seem to find The sweetest fruit on the vine The congregation met and they sent me a letter Said we’re gonna pray for you, son, ‘til your timing gets better We’re making a mark for every day you miss Remember old Judas went astray with just one kiss When his immortal soul was lost for the mere cost of 40 dimes He didn’t make it to church on time
10.
Cajun with a K ©Kevin Gordon(Little Rain Music(BMI)) This place is just concrete split with weeds, Child’s handprint imbedded, dated 1973. They spell cajun with a K on the next door store sign, Selling crawfish, cigarettes and fishing line. And decay takes its own saccharine time. That’s the main drag dying down there under the overpass, Where nobody goes but those with nowhere to land: The drifting, the insane, an occasional College rock band in search of a gritty urban vibe for their promotional photograph, Then they haul their asses right back to campus Or the truly courageous venture down to the Blue Diamond, sit at the bar, while the regulars slap their dominoes down on the gold-flecked formica. Then a certain type of nervous fella leans in to your ear, with one eye on your girl; she’s the finest thing seen come through these doors in years. He’s asking: “How much? How much?” A few poets remain, the lucky locked in and tenured over at the state college. Knowledge is its own reward, but if one more alcoholic wonders out loud why I’m not a millionaire there’s a fist for an answer. Becky there at the register wanted to be a dancer, ended up a cashier instead. Don’t let dreams go to your head, Like spunk swimming up to the ovaries. She had a kid with special needs, who needs to be fed. How do you make a living out of poetry, a payday from a plié? Like diamonds from the mud in the riverbed. I worked at a bar where all the divorcees would feed on each other, blood-drunk piranhas swimming in vodka and disco. Where brother Alonzo was the parking valet. He’d clock in at 4, start throwing down Colorado bulldogs. Sitting out there in a folding chair in a white tux shirt and a red bowtie, weaving cars in and out between them yellow lines. There’s Johnny Carl, the DA, throwing up in the parking lot again, down on his knees beside his red Cadillac but he ain’t no slack, he’ll be back in court tomorrow— trying to send another poor boy through those jailhouse doors. You damn right he done it. Before happy hour, the waitresses were talking. One of their boyfriends got so pissed at her apparent dildo addiction he grabbed the thing right out of her hands, opened the apartment door, threw it off the 3rd floor balcony. Still humming. A midnight pink silicone rocket, landed on the August afternoon asphalt, still humming. Still humming . . . Mama don’t live here no more Nobody knows Daddy’s name down at the liquor store I got nothing saved But my fear and my rage If I had . . . if I had my way

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released September 4, 2015

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Kevin Gordon Nashville, Tennessee

Kevin Gordon is a Louisiana native whose latest releases, Tilt & Shine, Long Gone Time, & 2012's Gloryland, earned raves from the NY Times, Rolling Stone, NPR, and others. His songs have been recorded by Keith Richards, Levon Helm, Hard Working Americans, Irma Thomas, & others. "Down to the Well", a duet w/Lucinda Williams, was featured on the Oxford American Southern Music Sampler. ... more

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