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Posts Tagged ‘The Maac Island Band’

August 15, 2014 Leave a comment

Here’s one for Bite Size and the “All She Wants To Do Is Dance” Group.

From the Live Album “SHAKE A BUM” by Scott Fagan And The MAAC Island Band lilfish records, St. Thomas Virgin Islands

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Scott Fagan And The MAAC Island Band @ Gullifty’s Camp Hill PA.

December 7, 2013 Leave a comment

Scott Fagan And The MAAC Island Band @ Gullifty's Camp Hill PA.

Here’s a picture taken by our beautiful friend and Producer “Digital Dave” recently at Gullifty’s a great spot in Camp Hill Pa. Just behind and to my right is the great Bass Player “Bobby Fry JR”. It was a Wonderful Gig, I wish you had been there with us. We look forward to seeing you soon!

Book 4. Up Coming Gigs And Book 2. SOON .2

June 17, 2011 1 comment

Book 4. Up Coming Gigs And Book 2.  SOON .2

We are busy and traveling a fair amount, and of course, it’s all interesting. This Saturday (June 18th) we are in Harrisburg, PA doing MODE Magazine’s Big LUAU on City Island, from 6 – 10 PM then We Travel up to New York City for Tuesday June 21st to participate in the big City Wide “Make Music New York” Festival.

We (Scott Fagan And The MAAC Island Band) will be playing at  Dag Hammarskjold Plaza on 1st Ave between 46th and 47th Streets (right across from the UN) from4 to 5 PM.

Folks are saying that we were assigned to the UN because I “sing in tongues” but it’s not “tongues” it’s just how we sing (and speak) down in the Virgin Isles. We are looking forward to both gigs; the band and I are rarin’ to go. We will be back in Harrisburg for “Music Fest” on Sunday, July 3rd and in Lebanon, PA. on August 6th for the “Pablo Emilio Memorial Music Festival”.

The band is excited to play in the Islands, and the European Festivals, it’s all in the works…we will do our absolute best, and we shall see.

 Book 2.  SOON .2 continued…

 This whole  mem.wa? thing started out in large part as a response to a gent who had contacted me because of his interest in writing a book about the “SOON” Story.

He asked me about it and in the process of emailing back and forth he concluded that perhaps I ought to be the one writing about it. Mostly because (I suspect) he realized what kind of nut he was dealing with (the kind of nut that doesn’t want anybody changing his words) and because not only do I insist on holding on to all of my “old” words but I can (and do) make up perfectly good new ones at the drop of a hat, or skip of a synapse. 

In any case he (not unreasonably) hoped that I would get right to it (the SOON part) but instead, I have spent the better part of the last two years writing 240 pages about half of everything under the sun with very little mention of “SOON” There are reasons for that. 

First of all. while some folks see SOON as the end all be all of my work and life, I don’t. (However, I see it as an important piece of music. I love Music and I love people who love music and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it go until I know the people who would dig hearing it have heard it).

Interestingly, there are a number of self-important people who have consulted themselves and then had the gall to publicly proclaim that “Scott Fagan peaked early with “South Atlantic Blues” and never did anything meaningful after that.”  I certainly  don’t think that’s true either.

In an attempt at orderliness I conceptualized the mem.wa? as four sections each encapsulating one chronological segment of the life (if you knew how many different things occur to me almost all at once, almost all the time, you might appreciate the attempt to bring order, however, for lack of better experience or “other” experience, this “blizzardito” of ideas and images, is one of the things that makes it ever interesting to me, to be me.) It may be symptomatic of FAE, but “dems the symptoms I got” and thank God I find them interesting and amusing.

Anyway, or rather, further, I imagined the mem.wa? as (thanks to modern technology) a hybrid of words and music (yes I know that’s what a song is) meaning a book with music (yes I know that’s what a Musical is) a combo platter of lit and music, a book that you could listen to (yes I know..) but or rather, a book that allowed you to hear the music in the muse. A mix of book and blog able to organically include music in the experience, a,a,a, Blook!

Anyway when chronologically It was time  to write about the teenage years, I felt as if I would need to tread very lightly to avoid hurting other people, not a one of which needs any more pain in their life and I simply don’t have the time to spend zig zagging between truth and consequences, or turning ragweed to roses and so I slowed down a bit to plex on it.

After plenty of good plexateing (and because of the recent SOON activity), I’ve decided to revisit that stuff later, a quick synopsis will suffice and help to put things in context. Here it is.

 “Lots of singing, lots of juicing, lots of trouble with the law, lots of love, lots of jealousy, lots of trouble with the law, homeless, violence, lots of trouble with the law, singing in the dungeon, juicing in the dungeon, lots of ah..difficulty in dealing with authority.

All in all, interesting and unusual (by virtue of the people and the settings, down in the Bongo Isles, the deep South in the early 1960’s) worth revisiting, and without question, a set up scenario for lots of trouble with the music business.

So, as noted elsewhere, as a homeless teenager living on a piece of cardboard, on a hillside (Sara Hill)  at the end of the airport runway in St. Thomas, I signed on as crew on a fifty foot ketch called “The Success” she was on the last leg of a  round the world cruise and bound for Miami. We sailed out of the harbor at Charlotte Amalie at dawn on July 2nd 1964.

My mission was simple and clear, save my beautiful alcoholic mother from herself and get my younger brothers back from social services’s foster care system, set my sister up, get my Pop an Irish Bar in a good drinking locale, eradicate racial prejudice and social injustice  by singing my heart out and making a million dollars. Ah… right away.

And..if at all possible, somehow rescue my own 15-year-old sweetie from the guy she had gotten pregnant for and married and gone away to the states with so she could get out of the house ‘cause (the rumor was) she was being molested.  

The content and emotion of those days may have been captured somewhat  in my song “South Atlantic Blues” written in 1965.

Here are two recordings of it. The first recorded in 1967, is on the ATCO Album “South Atlantic Blues” and the secondrecording that I’ve posted here, is from the LIVE album ” Shake A Bum” recorded in 2010

                                   ” South Atlantic Blues”                   Scott Fagan

You know the Islands are the perfect place for going away

Life’s so easy there you live from day to day to day to day 

The father of missions, he once walked proud and tall

He must had seen too many Christians, cause now he’s very small

The poor man’s got no Gods at all

Not counting alcohol, not counting alcohol 

You say that’s dues, I’ve got news for you

It’s South Atlantic Blues, South Atlantic Blues

 She lives in the alley, the hope gone from her eyes

Her dress is torn and dirty, loving lips are cracked and dried

She sits and cries, my life’s a lie

Her children think she’s died, her children think she’s died

You say that’s dues, I’ve got news for you

It’s South Atlantic Blues, South Atlantic Blues

 She stands by the seaside, my love, she waits for me

And I can’t help her as she wonders, how long will it be

I told her once, we would be free, from Charlotte Amalie

Charlotte Amalie,  Charlotte  Amalie

 You say that’s dues, I’ve got news for you

It’s South Atlantic Blues, South Atlantic Blues

 You know the Islands are the perfect place for going away

Life’s so easy there you live from day to day to day to day

day to day to day to day…

After many adventures and poetical ruminations, a month later we arrived in the states, and I got a singing gig at a folk Club on US 1 in Ft.Lauderdale called “The House Of Pegasus”. A month after that I arrived in New York City with 11 cents to my name. I called the only phone number I had which had been given to my Mother by a friend of a friend of a songwriter.  

The name with the number was Doc Pomus.

 I called him and he set a time for me to come sing for him the next day. I did and Doc was kind enough to sign me on the spot.

What’s this have to do with SOON? It’s what they call “backstory” or setting the context, it was also the beginning of my exposure to the for real and serious music business.

Doc was a very successful song writer, with hits galore. Among them; Lonely Avenue, Young Boy Blues, Teenager In Love, Hushabye, This Magic Moment, His Latest Flame, Little Sister, Return To Sender, Go Jimmy Go, Save The Last Dance For Me, and Viva Las Vegas, we lived at the Forrest Hotel on 49th between Broadway and 8th, the Brill Building was right across the street where Doc’s Music publisher Hill And Range Music had their offices.

I of course thought (and my recent three song audition and instant signing reinforced the idea) that music (and by extension the business around it), was  magical and made up of people appropriate to populating the magical musical land. I thought that Doc and his partner Mort Shuman, (and the other professional songwriters in and around the Brill Building) had it made in the shade. 

I was very surprised (and unhappy) to hear Doc’s descriptions and characterizations of music publishers and record companies as exploitive and  dishonest (my fluffity and flautin’ words not his, Doc was more colorfully direct and to the point).

 My initial reactive defense was something like “well that’s too bad for the people who get hurt, they probably did something wrong, and anyway, I’m here to make a million and rescue my family.

I don’t want to or have time to, get caught up in stuff like that”  

However, Doc was trying to educate me to the reality of the people and the business that we as artists (writers, singers, musicians) were in and had to  deal with.

I really didn’t want to hear that stuff or believe it, I much preferred my own  magical thinking. Only weeks before I was “sad glad good bad happy mad dreamy lad” swimming in rum and coke  delusions down in the beautiful Virgin Islands and suddenly I was a signed and (at least expected to be) grownup professional recording artist (although I wasn’t old enough to sign my own contracts, my Mudder dear had to come to New York to sign them for me) in what was turning out to be a cut throat snake, scorpion and piranha infested reality.

I had seen all kinds of blood spilled in crazy drunken violence, had come face to face with the deepest kinds of hatred, knew all about suffering, deprivation and sadness, but really nothing at all about manicured  men in tailored suits whose ambitions for money (yours, mine and everybody else’s) appeared to supersede every other human value  and concern.

Though I knew scads about ‘life’s other side” I knew very little about this one and I honestly had never imagined that such people actually existed. And, I really didn’t want to know. 

I was at thrilled and excited to see all of Doc and Morty’s  BMIwriter awards along the hall ways at Hill and Range, and the awards to song writers Otis Blackwell and Elvis Presley for “Don’t Be Cruel” and “All Shook Up” songs that represented the “liberation theology of Rock And Roll” songs or rather “energy and intention” that inspired and sustained me through a fairly challenging childhood.

Back at the Forrest I said “Doc, I saw all the BMI awards at  Hill and Range, I didn’t know that Elvis was a song writer, that he wrote “Don’t Be Cruel” and “All Shook Up” Doc said “Scotty, Elvis didn’t write those songs, Col. Tom Parker said  Elvis had to have half of the song or he wouldn’t record them.” I was dumbstruck..I couldn’t believe that Elvis would do something like that, I couldn’t believe that someone would make Otis give away half of what was his.

Doc explained that Elvis had nothing to do with it, it was all Tom Parker, and Tom Parker was all about the money.

Morty took me to a song writers bar on 50th Street just off  Broadway and introduced me to a parade of writers (primarily African American) responsible for many of the great Doo Wop hits who had either been cheated out of their royalties or manipulated into actually selling the rights to their songs lock stock and barrel. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

 I can’t tell you how much of a true believer I was, music meant the world to me, gave me (and millions of others), hope. Had unified my generation, pulled my sister and me through hell and high water, To discover that slick “business men” had been hurting and cheating and stealing from the people who actually made the music, and that the people, the public didn’t know a thing about it, and therefore no one would do anything to stop it, was soul searing and outrageous to me. And frankly, that was only the beginning.

 So there we see part of the genesis of SOON.

This  belief/ idea that if “people only knew they would do some thing” was an old one for me.

In 1954 my step father Howard and my Mother, fleeing bills in St. Thomas, moved us into an apartment at Parada 25 and Aveneda Fernandez Juncos, in Santurce, Puerto Rico, next to what was at that time considered the largest and worst shanty slum in all of Latin America, “El Fangito”. When I first saw naked little children, feeding themselves out of garbage cans,  I said to my self “If the people in America knew about this they would do something about it” and I decided that “I’m going to learn to write songs and tell im’ cause if they knew about it, they would surely do something about it”

This was an earlier element in the Genesis of “SOON”

I still believe. The only difference now is the realization that writing the song and even singing it at the top of your lungs is no guarantee that anyone will hear it, or that the information will get to the people, or if in fact the song is heard, that the people who hear it will care enough or can afford to care enough to do something. Things simply aren’t as simple as they once seemed. However if one cares, then you’ve got to keep trying.

Continues…

Book 4. “LIVE” Captain Creole, With Mighty Whitey Dedication

January 23, 2011 1 comment

Book 4. “LIVE” Captain Creole, With Mighty Whitey Dedication…

I’ve  loved Nicky ever since he showed up as an eager, inquisitive,  freckle faced  kid in an Anglican school uniform, some time in the early sixties. He had a great spirit and a great big heart even then. Nicky, aka Mighty Whitey,  offered me the sincerest sort of complement  through the years by doing many of my original songs, including La Biega Carousel/Tutsie, Lord Cherrigo Sad, Archipelago Man, and Captain Creole.

I will always miss his laughing eyes and his sense of adventure, but most of all, his camaraderie. We  were comrades in a very select fraternity.

The dedication verse is now part of Captain Creole, and touches me  with the kind of  hopeful joy that Nicky embodied, each and every time I sing the song. My wish that it may have a similar effect on those of you that feel the way I do, about our friend “The Mighty Whitey” Nicky Russel.

CAPTAIN CREOLE

  

(Words And Music, Scott Fagan, ASCAP)

 The word spread through The Virgins, the Old Creole was dead  He died in the night of the full moon light, in a sword fight, in his bed, Some say he was crazy, he had a rum dream in his head But I will tell you, in his words, what Captain Creole said…

 He said “Old Pirates never die dry your eyes we don’t ever die, Old Pirates never die, they just sail away”

 The Dancing Senoritas, the Ghosts of Buried Gold, The German and The African,that battled in his soul,The Jolly Jolly Rodger, The Treasure Ships of Spain, Called out to him and bid him come… back to The Spanish Main

 Because “Old Pirates never die, dry your eyes they don’t ever die, Old Pirates never die, they just sail away”

 The word spread through The Virgins, Like the ringing of an old ships bell, The Preacher turned to Heaven, but most folks bet on Hell. The Old Creole was sinking, the Old Creole was gone, And we cried in the light of the full moon night, Whispering his song

 He said “Old Pirates never die, dry your eyes they don’t ever die, Old Pirates never die, they just sail away”

 RECITATION: THIS ONE IS DEDICATED NOT ONLY TO CAPTAIN CREOLE HIMSELF, THE LATE GREAT CALWIN MARTIN MOOLINAR, BUT  TO OUR BEAUTIFUL FRIEND THE MIGHTY WHITEY, NICKY RUSSEL, WHO SANG THIS SONG SOO WELL AND  CALLED IT HIS FAVORITE OF THEM ALL. GOOD WINDS, GOOD FRIENDS, AND GOD SPEED …FOREVER MORE”

 Old Pirates never die, dry your eyes we don’t ever die, Old Pirates never die, they just sail awayyyyyy”

 The recording is from the current “Scott Fagan and The MAAC Island Band” LIVE CD “Shake a Bum” found through the link below.  www.thecollectedworksofscottfagan.com

Book. 4. Shake A Bum!

January 10, 2011 Leave a comment

Book. 4. Shake A Bum!

Dear good people,

We are hard at work on the “Shake A Bum” video, it will be great fun for all when we are done. If you have a short (10-15 seconds)  of you and or your friends “Shaking yu Bum Bum” that you would like to send along for possible inclusion, send it along double ASAP to information@lilfishrecords.com and we will try to get it in.

In the meantime here is the album cover (Front and back) along with the full 8 minutes and 36 second “Shake A Bum” single AND the whole deliriouso lyric. Enjoy as you remember what it was/is to go “trampin’ doun de road”

Happy New Year To You! Love, Scott

Front Cover, Scott Fagan And The MAAC Island Band "Shake A Bum!"

"Ah sae tu Come Come Come!...Everybody Shake A Bum"

Back Cover, "Shake A Bum"

Back Cover, Scott Fagan And The MAAC Island Band "Shake A Bum"

SHAKE A BUM       Scott Fagan

  BUM BUM BUM BUM

SHAKE A SHAKE A BUM

AH SAY TO COME COME COME COME \

DO DE SHAKE A BUM

 

BUM BUM BUM BUM

SHAKE A SHAKE A BUM

AH SAY TO COME COME COME

EVERYBODY SHAKE A BUM

 

SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE

TIL YU BOTTY BREAK

HAVE YOUR FUN,

DO DE SHAKE A BUM BUM BUM

 

SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE

TIL YU BOTTY BREAK

COME COME COME

EVERYBODY SHAKE A BUM

 

DON’T CARE WHAT KIND OF DANCE YOU DO THIS ONE’S FOR YOU YOU COULD DANCE HOW YOU WANT TO..WHEN YOU

DO DE SHAKE A BUM

 

WINE YU BOTTY FROM EAST TU WEST DO DE SHAKE A BUM YOU COULD JUS TRY TO DO YOUR BEST WHEN YOU

DO DE SHAKE A BUM

 

OHHH BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM

SHAKE A SHAKE A BUM, AH SAY TO COME COME COME EVERYBODY SHAKE A BUM BUM BUM BUM

BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM

SHAKE A SHAKE A BUM AH SAY TO COME COME COME EVERYBODY SHAKE A BUM

 

RECITATION

NOW WE GON SLO IT DOWN JES A LIL BIT LIKE JERRY LEE AN DEM BOY DO DOWN IN MEMPHIS, DOWN IN MISISIPPI, GOT A LOTTA GOOD FOLKS DOIN A LOTTA GOOD BUM SHAKIN DOWN THERE DOWN IN HA’SBURG, DOWN IN PICYUNE, DOWN IN NAW’LINS

GOT A WHOLE LOTTA BUM SHAKING GOIN ON DOWN IS LOUIEVILLE DOWN IN THE SWEET CAROLINAS THEY KNOW HOW TA SHAKE THAT THING

\AN ALL THEM FARMERS DAUGHTWERS OUT IN THE MIDWEST THEY JES STAY RIGHT HOME RIGHT WHERE THEY IS AN SHAKE THAT BUM BUM

 

THEY SURE CAN SOCK IM IN THE ROCKIES, IN COLORADO THEY, THEY KNOW HOW DA GO GO GO

AND OH DON’T TALK ABOUT THEM PEOPLE OUT IN CALIFORNIA WHEN THE WHOLE PLACE GOES SHAKE

SHAKE SHAKE AN EVEY BUM BUM IN IT

 

WHAT ABOUT THEM GIRLS DOWN IN TEXAS AN ALL OVER THE WILD WILD WEST (YEEHAW)

\THEM COW GIRLS AN THEM COW BOYS THEY KNOW HOW TO SHAKE A BUM

HEY AND WAY UP NORTH HOW DO YA THINK THEY KEEP EACH OTHER WARM ALL THROUGH THE LONG COLD NIGHT

 

AND WHAT ABOUT THE BOSTON BEAUTIES AND THE NEW YORK CHICANITAS AND THE CITY OF BROTHERLY AND SISTERLY LOVE

 

OH TALK ABOUT WARM AND LOVE, WHAT ABOUT MIAMI AND HAVANAH, Y LA CHICAS DE HISPANIOLA Y PUERTO RICO, AN AY AY AY OH MY, THE GIRLS OF THE VIRGIN ISLANDS? THAT’S WHERE I LEARNED THIS WHOLE SHAKE A BUM THING TO BEGIN WITH, AND ON DOWN THE CARIBEE TO RIO IF YOU PLEASE

OH OH SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE AH AH…WAIT WAITT

 

WHAT ABOUT THE GIRLS IN JOBURG, AND DOWN IN  ZANZIBAR AND TOKYO AND CHA CHA CHINA!

NO MPLACE IS TOO FAR,

WE’RE COMIN TO SEE YA

WE’RE COMIN TA SEE YA

LONDON DUBLIN BERLIN AND PAREE, WE’RE COMIN TO SEE WHAT WE CAN SEE

MOSCOW AND BERUIT WE’RE COMIN LOOKIN FOR THE TRUT

ALL AROUND, ALL AROUND, ALL AROUND THE WORLD, NORTH AND SOUTH AND EAST AND WEST, TO SEE WHO COULD SHAKE DEY BUM DE BEST!

 

AN DON’T THINK WE DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT THING IS FOR IT’S NOT FOR SITTING ON, IT’S FOR HUGGIN AND HOLDING AND TALKING TO AND SQUEEZIN AND LOVIN AND KISSIN AND SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE

TIL YOU BOTTY BREAK OHH HAVE YOUR FUN

EVERYBODY SHAKE A BUM

 

INSTRUMENTAL FIGURE X 2

FIG 1 DO DE SHAKE A BUM FIG 2 EVERYBODY SHAKE A BUM

 

BUM BUM BUM BUM

SHAKE A SHAKE A BUM

AH SAY TO COME COME COME COME DO DE SHAKE A BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM

SHAKE A SHAKE A BUM

AH SAY TO COME COME COME

EVERYBODY SHAKE A BUM

 

DON’T CARE WHAT KIND OF DANCE YOU DO

THIS ONE’S FOR YOU,

YOU JUST DANCE HOW YOU WANT TO, 

DO THE SHAKE A BUM

WINE YOU BOTTY FROM EAST TO WEST

DO DE SHAKE A BUM

YOU GONNA JUS TRY TO DO YOUR BEST

 DO DE SHAKE A BUM

 

OOHHH, BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM

SHAKE A SHAKE A BUM

AH SAY TO COME COME COME

EVERYBODY  SHAKE A BUM BUM BUM BUM

BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM

SHAKE A SHAKE A BUM

AH SAY TO COME COME COME EVERYBODY  SHAKE A BUM

 

FORGET ABOUT LIFES MISERY

DO DE SHAKE A BUM

YOU JUST DANCE AND BE HAPPY

DO DE SHAKE A BUM

 

FORGET ABOUT LIFES SORROWS,

DO DE SHAKE A BUM

I SAY THAT WE’LL CRY TOMORROW,

DO DE SHAKE A BUM

 

OHHH BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM

SHAKE A SHAKE A BUM

AH SAY TO COME COME COME

EVERYBODY SHAKE A BUM BUM BUM BUM

BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM

SHAKE A SHAKE A BUM

AH SAY TO COME COME COME

EVERYBODY SHAKE A BUM

 

SHAKE A BUM,  SHAKE A BUM

SHAKE A BIDDY BIDDY BEE-UM BUM,

A BIDDY BIDDY BIDDY BIDDY BUM BUM

A BIDDY BUM BIDDY BUM  A BIDDY BIDDY  BUM BUM

EVERYBODY SHAKE A BUM BUM BUM!…

(To Purchase The CD Please Visit The Link Below)

 http://thecollectedworksofscottfagan.com/

Thank you!

Book 4. Encore, Granfaddah Buckra An De Bo’ Hog!

November 24, 2010 Leave a comment

Book 4. Encore, Granfaddah Buckra An De Bo’ Hog!

Next week, the Barnd new LIVE CD “Scott Fagan and The MAAC Island Band” Shake A Bum! will be coming out…in the meantime I’ve been asked to reprise the POSTING of Granfaddah Buckra An De Bo’ Hog. so.. Here it tis! The Buckra CD is available right now at www.thecollectedworksofscottfagan.com  imagine finding Granfaddah Buckra an De Bo’ Hog laying under your tree on Christmas Morning. Good Lord! Double Good Lord!

Book 4. Encore, Granfaddah Buckra An De Bo’ Hog!

Well… now it happen so dat Granhaddah Buckra had de biggest, de schupides, de ugliest, de stinkis, de noisiest and de nastyiest Bo Hog  anybody had evah seen..

de Buckra liked to call him King George, and he loved dat Bo Hog like a Bruddah.

One day de neighbor dem come sae…,

“Buckra, you know Black people is good people, an de don mine if yu wan tu live wid dem an roun dem an side a dem oh undah neet a dem oh on top a dem or all in de middle an in between a dem  excepin’ when dat big  stinkin ugly’ bo’ hog of yours own “dat yu likes tu call King George”, du knock doun he pig pen “dat yu likes tu call he Castle of King George” an wha yu set up right in de middle a de yad, dat yu likes tu call “de Kingdom of King George” when dat Bo’ hog come  rootin up in every body business all ovah de yad, an throwin’ doun de cloths line wid all de chirren dem clean clothes on it, an rootin’ up an rollin up in all de woman dem clean panty, rootin up and rollng ovah doung  in de dutty mud an stinkin’ up de place an oinkin up de place an squealin up de place like de las pig outta hell an  wakin’ up all de people dem in de yad which of late has  happen almos every  single  night a de week an twice on Sunday,

 An Buckra, like we say, yu  kno black people is good people an we don mine, but Buckra,  Oh GOD Buckra,.we tink is time you should go live among yu own kine”..

 “Me own kine?” sae de Buckra, “me own kine? Wha kina kine yu tink is me own kine?”

 De boldest of de Neighbah dem sae “we have contemplated and conclude you should go live doun in Cha Cha tuun”,

 “Cha Cha toun?: Say de Buckra, “Cha Cha Toun?”

“Yes sah Buckra we have decided that you should go live  wid de res a dem Cha Cha doun in  Cha Cha toun”

 “Yu tink oy is a Cha cha? Yu tink oy is a Cha Cha?  Yu loy, yu loy! Yu don kno I is a white man? I ain no Cha Cha, yu Muddah is a Cha Cha!”

 No no! de uddah Neighbah say, no no not a Cha Cha, St. Thomas ain ga no Cha Cha no more, We doesn use that expression no more, she mean tu sae you should go live wid de res a dem doun Carenage..ers doun in Carenage..

 “Carenage? Carenage? Who yu callin a Carenage?  yu Muddah is aa Carenage!”

“No No Mistah Buckra, das de Frenchie dem way tu say  French Toun,”

 “French Toun? French Toun? Yu tink I should go live in French Toun?”

“Yes sah Mistah Buckra, Everybody in de yad say yu is  a Balahoo.. Das why yu should go livewid de res a de balahoo dem  doun in Cha Cha, ah mean French ah mean Carenage Toun!”

 Anuddah neibah pipe in

“Yes man yu keeian see how it is? Guana should live wid Guana, Mongoose should live wid Mongoose, Guava don grow onna Cenep Tree and yu should be wid de res a de Frenchie, Doun in Frenchie Toun”

 De Buckra hot now, he say “Guana? Guana? Who yu callin a Guana? Yu muddah is a Guana!”

“Not a Guana}, de neighbah sae, “not a Guana, yu is a Frenchie”.

 “Oy? Oy? You schupid oh sumting? Yu damn forward  AN schupiddy Oy ain no Frenchie,  Oy Is a white man yu talking to… Any body cou see I is a white man,.. wha wrang wid yu, anybody cou see Buckra De Paehae is a white man!”

 “Buckra”, (say de very darkest a de neighbah dem)  “Buckra, If you is a white man I is a Frenchie, if yu is a white man, why we don hear yu Yankin, Buckra, why we don hear yu yankin?”

 “Yankin? Yankin?” Sae de Buckra,  “yu want tu hear me Yankin?”

 “Ok den.

“AYHMM  COME FRUM ALABAMA,  WID A BANJO ON MAH KNEE, BUT NOW AH MMM JES A SAILOR IN THE U.S NAYVEE”

 “Yu see wha ah tell yu? Yu see wha ah tell yu?” De neighbah sae, “he ain no white man, he ain no white man. He keeian yank! Bou he is a white man, a white man wha keeian Yank? Yu evah see a white man wha keeian yank? De Buckra ain no white man, he is nuttin’ but a mushay! Ah say Sen im doun French Town!”

 “Oh yeah” say de Buckra, “Oh Yeah? Ok, den.. AH KIN SEE AHMM A GONNA HALF TA TALK REAL SERIOUS TU YAALLS SO YALL’S GONNA KNOW DAT YU IS TALKIN’ WID A BIG TIME AN  IMPORTANT WHITE MAN WHEN YU IS DEALING WID DE BUCKRA…

 NAH AHM A GONNA TELL YA SUNPIN, AH DON’T LIKE DE WAY SOMEFOLKS IS BEEN HARASSIN’ AN HOG TIEIN’ MY GOOD  KING GEORGE THE PO’K SWINE WID YER CLOTHLINES EVERY NIGHT AN AHMM A GITTIN’ TIURD AH TELLIN YA SO,

BUT JUS SOS,  DERES NO HARD FEELINS,AN DIS DON’T BECOME SOME KINA  FUGE, AH RECKON AHMM A GONNA PACK UP MAH SADDLEBAGS AN TAKE MA HERD, AH MEAN MA BO’HOAWAWG,  AN MOSEY ON DOUN WEST”.

 “Yes Yes, Buckra” de neighbah dem say, “yes yes das de bes ting Buckra,  mosey on doun west to Cha Cha toun”…

 An Me Boy, das when de REAL trouble start!

 Buckra and  de Bo’ Hog went straight doun to French Town an walk right in to de famous Normandy Bah, it wa round 11 a clock in de mawnin so naturally de place wa almos full. Half a de man dem wa teachin’   high school and mos a de legislatue was doun dare tu get a good head start on de day. Plus a few Sailah Man…

 Now de Buckra had done make up he mine dat  he ain talking no mo Island talk, because he ain wan nobody to make no mo mistake bou de fac dat he  is a white man through an through, from den on he Yankin straight,

Well… maybe a white man wid a lil someting else throw in in dare but all de same de Buckra say he  Yankin’ straight.

“WAL MA GOOD FRENCHIE FELLOW” he say to de lil bahman “ LEMME HAVE DE BES RED SODA DAT YOU GOT IN DE PLACE AN PLUS AH WANTS TU RENT A LIL HOUSE FROM Y’ALL DOUN IN DIS HEAH FRENCH TOWN”

Dat time a man name Magras, sae  “Hey, hey wait meson wait, Wha yu tink yu goin wid dat Bo hog?” Dis is de Narmandy Bah, only de bes a people cu come in in side a heah an we don deal wid no Bo Hag doun French Toun , We is fishah man doug here, RIDERS ON THE SEA!  You in de wrang place me boy, yu bettah go Nart side whea yu cou join up wid de res a dem RIDERS ON A DONKEY, an fuddah mo you ain no Frenchie!  You mubbee som kina doublebreed Daneman ana Putto Rician from Sain Croix!”

 All dis time three or fo drunken Sailah done feed King George de Bo Hog  mo dan a quart ana half a rum and coke, chase down wid bou five or six cold schafah beer me boy, and de Bo Hog  feelin’ it now.

 “OINK! OINK!  SQUEEE! SQUEEE! OINK! OINK!  SQUEEE! SQUEEE!”  Say de Bo Hog.

 Den he take off running roung and roung in de Normandy Bah, tunnin up and knockin doun table a chair, lef and right, all ovah de place, dis time he change he tune he  bawling out “ SQUEEYAW!  SQUEEYAW! OINK OINK! SQUEEYAW! SQUEEYAW!”   De nex ting yu know de Bo Hog stop, an start tu swing and sway. He open he eye dem wide wide and den… he vomit up a Green an Yellow tidal wave of de wus stinkin frat full a ole drawers and panty yu evah see.

De sailah dem killing dey self wid de laugh, but de Frenchie dem don tink it’s so funny ah tall…

 Well me boy, Buckra an de Bo Hog had tu haul dey “humpf” outta French Town, man dey two a dem run straight an all de way up Demarara Gut through mo jackspania and catchankee… dem boy ain stop til de reach de very top a Crown  an some ways doun de uddah side. An dats how Buckra and de Bo Hag fus arrive in Nelteburg.

But befo yu know it dat Bo’ Hog King George wa makin trouble an terrorizing de poor people dem out dare, rooting up in de peppah patch and knockin doun de cloths line.. well until he disappeared one day.

  Some people say King George de Bo’ Hog decided tu go St. John an is de Faddah and de Granfaddah of mos a de wus a de wile pig an even some a de wile donkey dem   harassin de people dem up dare in St. John,

 Som uddah people say dem Nart side French man finally get tu hol de Bo’ hog,, an had de biggis roas pig  of all time, evah dat Bastille Day doun Hull bay,

 But mos of all a taxi man say he know fo a fac dat dem boy from  de Agricultural Station out Doriteea catch King George an dress him up like a touris an put him onna touris boat, an nobody didn’t  notice de difference between he an de res a dem til’ dey reach back Florida me boy.

I don kno about dat, but de part I tell yu, is wha happen an das de trut, de whole trut, an nuttin but de trut… So help me Miss Gearty!

 

Book 4. The CD is Shipping. And Book 4. “Granfaddah Buckra An De Ol’ Geeal”

November 1, 2010 Leave a comment

 Book 4. CD is Shipping and Book 4. “Granfaddah Buckra An De Ol’ Geeal”

The cover is done, the dedications are made, the printer is partially paid, and copies are on their way to lil’fish in St. Thomas. Our outlet there is “The Virgin Islands Cooperative store” on the corner of the waterfront directly across from “tent city” aka the Venders Mall. For the moment, email orders are,,, orders@lilfishrecords.com

We continue work on Scott Fagan and The MAAC Island Band “Live” album “Shake A Bum” we are anxious to get that finished so we can set up some concert appearances back home. We are happy to do benefits and fund raisers here there and anywhere as long as they are legit. Talk to us. I am thrilled that The Buckra tickles so many people, I love that kind of schupidness I always have and always will.  I guess that is why

the CD is dedicatrd to Mango Jones, Brownie (and Walter) Ms. Arona Peterson and her wonderful “Undah De Market”  Daily Niws column and all Virgin Island artists yet to come. Perhaps I ought to have said all Virgin Islands Artists  devoted to and specializing in “schupidness” but one needs to be supportive across the board, and, more seriously, we must encourage and support Virgin Islands Artists in every way that we can. It’s just so.

They have just released a new film “Strange Powers” about my son (also a writer, singer and recording artist) Stephin Merritt and his band “The Magnetic Fields”  I think that two of my recordings from my CD “Dreams Should Never Die” (The Virgin Islands Songs Vol. 2.) “Where My Lover Has Gone” and “La Biega Carosuel/Tutsie are in the film. Incedently, I have been credited as writer of La Biega Carosuel but La Biega is an old Virgin Islands Folk song, that predates us all, What I did write is “Tutsie” and created  the medley and arrangement of the two together. When a writer arranges a PD (public domain) folksong the performing rights organizations (ASCAP, BMI,  SESAC) credit him or her as writer)

I learned La Biega Carosuel directly from and at the knee of, the notorious “Ruppee” aka “The Vampire” aka “De Obeah Man” aka The Emporor Of The North” aka “Captian Creole” aka “Calwin Martin Moolenar´ himself,  of Estate Nelteburg and all points beyond. In any case, it is a very busy time, and that is good.

Here is another Buckra piece, I hope that you will enjoy it as much as I did and do writing and performing it. 

Book 4. “Granfaddah Buckra An De Ol’ Geeal”

A time when I wa small ah went to see me ol’ granfaddah de ol’ Buckra de Paehae de fus fus fus. Ah sae “Granfaddah! Ah come tu see yu!” He sae “Ok den, look me hare, but yu gon got tu bettah stay ou de way, a Ol’ Geeal coming to see me fo something an ah don wan yu get mashup when de action start!” Ah sae “Ah Ol’ Geeal? Ah Ol’ Geeal? Who it tis, granfaddah, who it tis? He sae “Ah me bouy, don worry bout dat, yu gon see, don worry bout dat.”

 I sae “but Granfaddah, wha kina action yu gon do wid a ol’ Geeal, yu gon teach ha how tu fall asleep in de chair? Yu gon teach ha how tu take out an put in ha teet dem? How to play domino?  Granfaddah, Yu tink de ol’ Geeal gon wan tu hear bou when yu poisen yu self an almos whole a dounde road,  when yu cook up dat Barracota in de olden days? Oh how yu used tu tief Mango?  An Granfaddah wha yu gon gee she tu eat? De Ol’ Geeal ain gon wan no  sardine and French bread to wash doun wid kool aid, Wha wrang wid yu, Granfaddah, you don know you too ol to have a ol’ Geeal?”

 “Ahh meboy” he sae “ahh meboy” das wae yu wrang, you mubbe tink yu Granfaddah ban ol’? Yu dunno yu Granfaddah is a sharp boy? Yu dunno yu talking tu de man de used to call “Buckre de Pale-Male, de champagne ah Gingerale?” Ahh mebouy, in dose days Yu Gran Papeeto had woman like mosquito, woman like whelks, like genip, woman wha couden done me boy. Yu tink ah spen me whole life scratchin me baney? No Sah, Yu tink all I cou do is siddown onna salfishbox outside de kitchen do? No Sah, Not me me bouy, De ol Buckra still know a ting or two, yu gon see, don worry bou dat!”

 De minute Granfaddah see de Ol’ Geeall by de do, he suck in he belly an he  stann up straight straight, den he sweep off he hat an he bow doun low like Erroll Flynn, he sae “Come right in my darling, come right in my dear,”

 

Bouy, ah couldn believe me oy dem, de Ol’ Geeal wa de famous Carnival Queen from Nineteen Fifty odd and we da see ha pitchure in de newspapah almos every week for doin something good, Dis Ol’ Geeal is like de fus lady of de lan. Wha sh doin hare wid me Granfaddah?

 

 Before ah could ask ha dat question, she watch me straight in me face and she sae “Good afternoon young man, I’m hear to take de measure of your Grandfaddah’s curtin rods” and wid dat de two a dem went straight in side de bedroom.

 

De nex ting yu know, ah hearin’ “tee hee hee” and “tae hae hae” den something fall doun on de bed an de spring start to squeak and squeal , an Man, ah embarrass to tell yu wha come nex, ah hear de ol Geeal  sae “OY!, OY!” Den she sae “Oh me dahlin’  Paehae yu know das how ah like it, yu know das how ah like it,” den she start tu bawl out “Oh Godee, Oh Godee!” (Ah sae to me self “what does dat have tu do wid curtin rods?”)

She SINGIN’ now, “Yes Sah, Buckra, OOWEE!” She SINGIN”now! “Yes Sah! Buckra, OOWEE! Yu got me goin, yu got me goin OY OY,” ah hear dem bouncing up an bouncing up! “Oh Godee Oh Godee!” She bawl out “Don stop now don stop now!” Den a “KA_POW!” ah hear de bed broke doun! An den all ah hear is notin atall, noting atall  den de Ol’ Geeal say .. “Hello? HELLO?”

 

De nex tin I know de Ol’ Geeal bus out tru de do bawlin’ out “Oh God! Oh God! Sonny boy come quick, yu Granfaddah Dead, Yu Granfaddah dead!, Ah done kill yu po Granfaddah, Oh God Sonny boy, ah sae yu po ol Granfaddah dead”

 

Ah went in tu see fo meself, Man de ol’ boy wa white like a ghos, he oy dem wa roll back in he head, he toung hangin out de side a he mout,. De woman bawl out “Oh God I’s a murderah, I’s a murderah! Ah done kill de sweet ol Buckra!”

Den she sae “Ah got to get outta hare befor me chrren dem fine out, ah gato go, I ain wan me chrren dem know I ain wan nobody kno”…an wid dat she pick up ha wig an she run ou de back and clime doun in de gut an clim up de uddah side a de gut, den she broke thru de chicken coop an she wa gan..

 

Ah sae “OH Godee!, OH Godee!  De ol Geeial done gan an le me here alone wid me po dead Granfaddah”… Ah sae “Oh Godee, how ah gone tell me Mammie, who it tis kill me Granfaddah? How ah gone tell me Mamee wha dey wa doin in de bedroom? Wha ah gon tell de Police?

Ah dunno what u tell de whorl?”

 

Jus den ah hear what soun like me dear ol Granfaddah voice sae “boy wha wrang wid yu, yu bettah stop yu bawlin befo ah hit yu some clout”..when ah tun around, it…it… look like ah see me Granfaddah dae sittin down good as gol an winkin he oy

 

Ah sae “but Granfaddah yu done dead like a ol keeat, de ol Geieal done kill yu, yu ain know yu done dead awreaddy Granfaddah? Yu don tink yu bettah lay doun?”

 

He sae “Ahh me bouy, don be schupiddy, yu keean see das me good way tu get rid a dem guirl? Das me lil trick tu mek dem go home when ah done had me way wid dem.” He sae “Ahh me Bouy…don worry bout a ting, an jus wait til yu see de two Ol’ Geeal wha commin’ tomorrow”!!!