1. |
Clarion Alley
03:47
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Clarion Alley
Words & Music by Nina Jo Smith (BMI)
(c) 2023 Redwood River Music (BMI)
Eyes of the dead
stare out from brick walls
Shoes hang from overhead wires
Storm clouds hover
over the bay
and the street smells of spices and liars
Street smells of spices and liars
Nuns in the basement
print Counterfeit bills
cranking them out while we sleep
Swap ‘em on Sunday
for collection plate dollars
Tithes and offerings, your
tithes and offerings
Cars went the way of the dodo
Bicycles quiet the town
Voices from Clarion Alley
slide past and float around
slide past and float around
I pedal past salsa
alow down for jazz
a DJ drowns out my friend
Police hole up in their station
The best taqueria is just up ahead
Best taqueria’s ahead
Cars went the way of the dodo
Bicycles quiet the town
Voices from Clarion Alley
slide past and float around
Slide past and float around
Capp Street to Clarion Alley
Valencia all the way
Auto parts store
closed a long time ago
Lucca shut down in the plague
Lucca shut down in the plague
Cars went the way of the dodo
Bicycles quiet the town
Voices from Clarion Alley
slide past and float around
Cars went the way of the dodo
Bicycles quiet the town
Voices from Clarion Alley
slide past and float around
Ed Tree bass, acoustic lead guitar, tremolo electric guitar, harmonium
Nina Jo Smith acoustic guitar
Matt Lomeo harmonica
Teresa James harmony vocal
Steve Kobashigawa harmony vocal
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2. |
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L.A. Man
Words and Music by Nina Jo Smith (BMI)
© 2015 Redwood River Music (BMI)
Janis Joplin,
Hollywood Bowl,
Did it really happen
Did I really go?
Driving the canyon,
Beverly Glen
Blue skies and oak trees
Remembering
Essays and poetry,
Records and no tv,
Firesign Theater on the radio.
L.A. Boy,
L.A. Man,
Walk in the sunshine,
Sing with the band.
PCH to Monterrey
Roadtrip to San Francisco Bay
Swear on my life, I love L.A.
And I remember when.
L.A. Free Press
Century City
Police Attack Protesters
Vietnam War
Earthquake and mudslide,
Twelve-string and Tim Buckley,
Soldiers and train rides
Do you remember when?
It was a bad, bad time,
We had a good time too,
Age of Aquarius,
Me and you.
L.A. Boy,
L.A. Man,
Walk in the sunshine,
Sing with the band.
PCH to Monterrey
Roadtrip to San Francisco Bay
Swear on my life, I love L.A.
And I remember when.
Riding the bikeway,
Wind in my hair,
Talking to someone
Who’s no longer there.
L.A. Boy,
L.A. Man,
Walk in the sunshine,
Sing with the band.
PCH to Monterrey
Roadtrip to San Francisco Bay
Swear on my life, I love L.A.
Swear on my life, I love L.A.
Swear on my life, I love L.A.
And I remember when.
L.A. Boy, L.A. Man,
L.A. Boy, L.A. Man.
Ed Tree bass, electric guitar, electric 12-string guitar, keyboards
Scott Babcock drums, percussion
Nina Jo Smith acoustic guitar, lead vocal
BettySoo harmony vocals
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3. |
John Prine Last Night
03:33
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John Prine Last Night
Words & Music by Nina Jo Smith (BMI)
© 2023 Redwood River Music (BMI)
Dreamed I saw John Prine last night
Playing a show
He sang a song, looked around
And stood up to go
The steel guitar player
Let loose a stream of notes
Next thing I knew
John Prine slipped out the door
Song with a feeling
Song with a view
One to hold on to
because it rings true
It’s been one long year since
Big Crow took him away
Suspended animation
We can’t go out and play
But for a one song set
In a dingy hotel bar
John Prine stepped into the light
And left the door ajar
Song with a feeling
Song with a view
One to hold on to
Because it rings true
For a few sweet minutes
Like he forgot he was dead
He blessed us with a brand new song
Stuck in his head
I dreamed I saw John Prine last night
Listened to him sing
Grabbed my pen, wrote these words
He didn’t come all this way
For nothing
Song with a feeling
Song with a view
One to hold on to
Because it rings true
I dreamed I saw John Prine last night
Listened to him sing
Grabbed my pen, wrote these words
He didn’t come all this way
For nothing
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4. |
Mother is
00:59
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Mother is
Nina Jo Smith
© 2023 Redwood River Music
Mother is
a book
a marriage
a miscarriage
another marriage
a driver of cars
the Hudson
the Mercury
the blue Thunderbird
Mother ran away
and Charles would find her
when I was five
six or was it
seven while
that white satin angel sat atop
and colored lights came on
the tree and
everyone gathered around except
Mom
gone
dancing
Mother took her secrets
packed tightly
hidden like
jewels sewn
into her hem when
she left for good
Mother was
a book of mysteries
no one could solve
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5. |
Visiting Day
04:42
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Visiting Day
Words & Music by Nina Jo Smith (BMI)
© 2023 Redwood River Music (BMI)
Running my comb from the Fuller Brush Man
slowly through my hair
Fix my eyeliner in the middle of the mirror
the only part that’s clear
A girl steps out from
the stall behind
I touch up my lipstick
She catches my eye
Waiting for our trains to be called
on the South Pacific Line
I left the baby with my mom
and put my best dress on
Gonna get on that train and ride away
will he think I look pretty on visiting day?
Me and the baby in Mom’s garage out back
with a hot plate and a sink
Movie stars in shiny magazines
wear their diamonds and mink
Union Station 1969
Boys coming home from the war
Us girls in this restroom
away from their eyes
Waiting for our trains to be called
On the South Pacific Line
I left the baby with my mom
and put my best dress on
Gonna get on that train and ride away
Will he think I look pretty on visiting day?
I just want to see in his eyes
I’m pretty as the first day we met
When he came into my drugstore for supplies
then he took me out back
for a quickie and a menthol cigarette
Union Station, 1969
We’re no relation, we’re just passing time
We came in as strangers
We left the same way
She said I look pretty
on visiting day.
I sure hope I look pretty
on visiting day.
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6. |
The Collector
03:36
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The Collector
Words & Music by Nina Jo Smith (BMI)
© 2023 Redwood River Music (BMI)
He’s a collector
Of pretty things and jewels like you
He’s gonna get ya
If Dad is gone and Mom don’t come through
Knows he can find you
Anywhere you go for fun
And then he’ll make you
Into just another one
Ooh, Child,
Things are gonna get harder
You’re just
A thing to buy, sell or barter
He’ll buy rings for you
To put on your finger
He’ll tell you
He can make you a famous singer
Everyone sees
But turns their eyes to the ground
We hear you crying
But we won’t listen to the sound
Ooh, Child,
Don’t know how you’ll get away
I hope that
No one has to die today
Is it you?
You’re just a cost of doing business
Is it him?
You’d best not leave a witness
Ooh, Child,
Beware of The Collector
Who is gonna protect ya
From The Collector
From the Collector
Ooh, Child; ooh, child
Ooh, child.
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7. |
Ghost in a Hurricane
02:04
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Ghost in a Hurricane
Nina Jo Smith
© 2023 Redwood River Music
You get cash for clothes
sell blood for beer
It’s the end of the month
at the end of the year
At the end of the year
in freezing rain
Under the eves
your cupped hand again
Evaporate, forget the pain
Sleep in the shadows, walk in the rain
Evaporate, forget the pain,
You’re a ghost in a hurricane
Your cupped hand again
The street is dark
Rags with a bottle
pushing a cart
Pushing a cart
stoked with rage
Yelling the same thing
over again
Yelling the same thing over again
Light shifts under clouds
Light, then dark,
you go quiet, then loud
Quiet, then loud
Bursting at the seams
Evaporate, forget the pain
Ghost in a hurricane
Evaporate, release the pain
Ghost in a hurricane
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8. |
Highway 33
05:59
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Highway 33
Words & Music by Nina Jo Smith (BMI)
© 2023 Redwood River Music (BMI)
I’m just a woman in a room
Trying to make my way
Out here on the road I’m free
On Highway 33
Our Lady of the Parking Lot
Please keep me safe tonight
I know I’m doing wrong
But I’ll be no man’s wife
Yes there’s somewhere
I would rather be
Most anywhere you can name
On Highway 33
Ventura to Maricopa
Firebaugh to Mendota
Hayfields, hayseeds, hey babe,
Want to pass the time with me?
I’m in no hurry, I’m not worried
I don’t want to settle down
Just find me a turnout
Somewhere down the road
Make me some money
They call me Honey out here
On Highway 33
Their hands, their hips,
Their backs, their lips
Make the most of me
Out here on the road
On Highway 33
The first time was an accident
Or seemed that way to me
Hey, mister, can you give me a ride?
He did, but not for free.
Sweet sixteen
It happened somewhere
Right around here
On Highway 33.
Taft to McKittrick
Coalinga to Gustine
No one can find you
Even the road goes there to hide.
Our Lady of the Parking Lot
Please keep me safe tonight
I know I’m doing wrong
But I’ll be no man’s wife.
I’m just a woman in a room
Trying to make my way
Out here on the road I’m free
On Highway 33
Highway 33
Highway 33
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9. |
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Take Me Back to Tennessee
Words & Music by Nina Jo Smith (BMI
© 2023 Redwood River Music (BMI)
I was born in Coffee County
Got conscripted to the war
Me and the boys marched up to Franklin
I don’t see those boys no more
I don’t see those boys no more
When they marched us up to Franklin
Schofield’s boys was dug well-in
In their hands a Henry rifle
Met us in the slaughter pen
They met us in the slaughter pen
Don’t bury me on Johnson’s Island
It’s so cold and lonely here
My bones can’t rest by old Lake Erie
Take me back to Tennessee
Take me back to Tennessee
On the last day of November
In the year of ‘64
We fought late into the evening
Hand to hand while bullets roared
Hand to hand while bullets roared
Took a bullet before sunrise
They marched us wounded to the train
Rode a boxcar to Ohio
Locked us up in their stockade
They locked us up in their stockade
Don’t bury me on Johnson’s Island
My dear Mary is not here
My bones can’t rest by old Lake Erie
Take me back to Tennessee
Take me back to Tennessee
Just so you know, my name is William
Didn’t do nothing I could win a medal for
I was just one of so many thousands
Lost a battle in a war
I Lost a battle in a war
Don’t bury me on Johnson’s Island
My little Laura is not here
My bones can’t rest by old Lake Erie
Take me back to Tennessee
Take me back,
Take me back,
Take me back to Tennessee
Take me back,
Take me back,
Take me back to Tennessee
l
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10. |
La Terre
04:41
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La Terre
Words & Music by Nina Jo Smith (BMI)
© 2023 Redwood River Music (BMI)
He left home
A hundred years ago
Hungry for the world
Lists of words in notebooks
He wanted to fill
Words march across his pages in columns
Like young men off to war
Poems memorized entirely
Only he knows what for
Earth, die Erde, la terre
Sky, der Himmel, le ciel
Earth, die Erde, la terre
Sky, der Himmel, le ciel
It’s 1918
He’s hungry for the world
Does he write for peace or wisdom
A young man or a girl?
It’s 1938
He sails from New York to Belgrade
Poems memorized entirely
For five days on the waves
Sea, die See, la mer
Earth, die Erde, la terre
Sea, die See, la mer
Earth, die Erde, la terre
-ism, -asm, -osm,–ical
Ein Gedichte von Heine
Copied in pencil
I’m hungry for words
And to know his mind
Do they mean anything?
Will they make me more kind?
It’s 2018
can I learn anything
From him writing of the age
Or are these just
Impressions on a page?
Earth, die Erde, la terre
Sky, der Himmel, le ciel
Sea, die See, la mer
Earth, die Erde, la terre
La terre, la terre, la terre.
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11. |
Justice Sestina
04:35
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Justice Sestina
Nina Jo Smith
© 2023 Redwood River Music
In a land that has no king, who would be our Solomon?
Where is the balance; who will lead with love?
Who will buckle down, settle into harness,
Pull our unmasked violence toward justice;
Like a child’s red wagon on a rocky trail,
Swaying like a drunkard, teetering toward jazz.
Not soaring, not melodic, just jagged jazz,
Not leaning, not falling, strong like Solomon,
Not knowing if we’ve lost the traces, the true trail,
Not humbling ourselves before his deep love,
Not craving, nor curing, carving out justice,
Who amongst us will pull the plow in harness?
Dam the rivers, there’s energy to harness,
Close the clubs now, we have no room for jazz;
Who kneels on a black man’s neck, killing justice?
Where are our prophets; what say you, Solomon?
Why fear, revile, annihilate, why not love?
Why obliterate the fading Freedom Trail?
White woman rambles along a leafy trail,
She will not put her dog into its harness.
She thinks that’s for the black man who is loved
By his sister, birder friends and all that jazz,
His equanimity rivals Solomon;
His life depends on it; where is his justice?
She’s fired from her job, a taste of justice.
Banned from Central Park, she cannot walk this trail.
To tweet or not to tweet? Go ask Solomon.
Choking her dog, she lost it. Why not harness?
She could have said hello, could have flowed like jazz
And walked the Ramble among birders and love.
She could learn to replace her fear with true love,
We could turn away from murder, toward justice,
Listen to Miles and Bird and savor all jazz.
He could amble unmolested on a trail.
Will whites respect a Black man free from harness?
Reconstruction. Reparations. Solomon.
Something like jazz arises, the will to love.
Song of Solomon, balance scales of Justice;
Greet a black man on a trail, never harness.
For Christian Cooper
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12. |
The Grandmother
04:55
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The Grandmother
Words & Music by Nina Jo Smith (BMI)
(c) 2018 Redwood River Music (BMI)
She pulled the curtain to one side
Heard the shout, the shots, the cry
The smell of fear cut through her yard
The sound of footsteps falling hard.
She reached for him, her outstretched hand
Could not touch the small young man
The shout, the shots, the keening cry
The grandmother at her window, standing by.
His life was short, his future wide,
Two small children by his side
Carousels and backyard swings.
Grandma's voice like angel wings.
Darkness flows through backyard gates
Grandmas peer through windows and wait
Cars patrol in black and white
Lights and sirens pierce the night.
Chopper blades hack through the air
In black and white he's lying there,
Barely time to be afraid
No men in blue come to his aid.
Grandma's voice like angel wings
Says his name, remembering
How she taught hymns like grandmas will
Now his pulse, his breath, his voice are still.
Ooh…
I read the words, I felt the sounds,
His body lying on the ground
She says his name, you know it still;
Says it again, you always will.
I thought by now we would have changed,
Our history could be rearranged.
Kill, don't capture, makes no sense
A young black man coming home through his back fence.
But white men are still primed to kill
Black men who move or who stand still.
The shout, the shots, the keening cry,
The grandmother at her window, standing by
She pulls the curtain to one side,
Hears the shout, the shots, the cry.
Coming home is not a crime.
Coming home is not a crime.
Ooh…
She pulled the curtain to one side
Heard the shout, the shots, the cry
The smell of fear cut through her yard
The sound of footsteps falling hard.
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13. |
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There Used to Be Springtime
Words & Music by Nina Jo Smith (BMI)
© 2023 Redwood River Music (BMI)
There used to be cities
They said there were cities
I heard there were cities
that blocked out the starry sky
There used to be cars
They said there were cars
I heard there were cars
to take us from place to place
There used to be springtime
There used to be fall
Now it’s just summer
or nothing at all
So we take a walk to town
Streets are cracked, steeple fell down
Storefront preacher stands alone
Altar pushed back, vestments torn
Angel of History drags him back
Marching on to tomorrow
face to the past
Woa, woa, woa
You used to believe
what you saw with your eyes
‘til you met the devil
a fox in disguise
There used to be springtime
There used to be fall
Now it’s just winter
or nothing at all
Look to the relentless sky
Ask your God, but he won’t say why
Can’t go back
No, you can’t go back
dragged into the future
face to the past
Woa, woa, woa
There used to be water
They said there was water
I heard there was water
to wash in, to drink, to cry
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14. |
Mining for Gold
03:22
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Mining for Gold
Words & Music by Nina Jo Smith (BMI)
© 2023 Redwood River Music (BMI)
A rabbit warren of abandoned veins
Running below ground
Broken glass, busted claim
Pulleys, bullet holes and chains
Graveyard drifting down a slope
Sun-bleached plastic flowers blow
Faces etched into the stone
Rattlesnakes making love on a dirt road
Everybody’s mining for gold
Everybody wants to feel the fever
Everybody wants a hand to hold
But not everyone can deliver
Hubcaps nailed to the outside wall
Roses struggle, Palo Verde grows tall
Jackrabbits scatter in the dusty sand
Young coyote roams the land.
Rusted bolts, busted fenders
Propane tanks, glass pipe embers
Hole in the ceiling, rot on the floor
Insulation peeking out by the screen door
Everybody’s mining for gold
Everybody wants to feel the fever
Everybody wants a hand to hold
But not everyone can deliver
The hand that reaches for mine reminds me
That the man behind that hand is not
The man who was so kind I won’t
Reach back to the hand of a man
Who’s not as kind as he was
I did not drive three hundred miles
To be part of this inventory
And for time to make windchimes of my bones
So I will walk away
And I will write my own damn story
‘bout how everybody’s mining for gold
Everybody’s mining for gold,
Everybody’s mining for gold.
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15. |
Friday Night Lovers
02:13
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Friday Night Lovers
Words & Music by Nina Jo Smith (BMI)
© 2023 Redwood River Music (BMI)
Friday night lovers
Raindrops on flowers
After the showers
Glow like diamonds
You loved me like lightning
Already gone
On to the next thing
Just anyone
Call me when you
Climb the mountain
To see what you can see
Call me when you
Climb the mountain
If what you see is me
I went to the valley
To play my guitar
sSang to the sun
‘til I could see the stars
Call me when you
Climb the mountain
To see what you can see
Call me when you
Climb the mountain
If what you see is me
Friday night lovers
Friday night
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16. |
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Chisai Hana
(Little Flowers)
Nina Jo Smith
© 2023 Redwood River Music
Maybe it’s spring now
on top of Hakusan
June is spring and summer’s running up
A lot of little flowers want to bloom.
Sakura - cherry blossoms - eager
Trees emerge from the mist
Yoshihiko paints a picture
and a lot of little flowers want to bloom.
Rivers and seas
bind and tie together
all the sounds of the world
Sacred mountain - hears
Golden eagle - cries
and a lot of little flowers want to bloom.
I’ll meet you at the hotspring
after we climb.
Wisps of cloud touch the sky
Everything is singing
and a lot of little flowers want to bloom.
Sadness in the land
for those who won’t return
The sound of crying
reaches Hakusan - the white mountain -
and in spite of everything
a lot of little flowers want to bloom.
For Yoshihiko Nakanishi
With thanks to Fumi Sasa
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17. |
Out of the Darkness
03:37
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Out of the Darkness
Words & Music by Tom Prasada-Rao (BMI)
© 2011 Simple Gift Music (BMI)
One of these mornings, Lord I swear
I’ll wake up I’m already there
Out of the darkness, into the light
How I feel when all is wrong
Even though I don’t belong
Out of the darkness, into the light
Out, out of the darkness,
Comin’ out, out of the darkness
Oh
Wasn’t really born to run
That’s just where I’m comin’ from
Out of the darkness, into the light
So when I lay me down to sleep
I pray the lord my soul to keep
Out of the darkness, into the light
Out, out of the darkness,
Comin’ out, out of the darkness
I wanna live like there’s nothing to forgive
No one to betray
Nothing left to pay
Oh
One of these mornings, Lord I swear
I’ll wake up I’m already there
Out of the darkness, into the light
Out of the darkness into the light
Oooh, ooh
Ooh, oh
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Nina Jo Smith Costa Mesa, California
Nina Jo Smith plays acoustic guitar and ukulele. She stole her mother’s guitar at age10 and never looked back. Walks, bicycle rides, eavesdropping and close observation populate her songs with real and imagined characters from places she knows and loves. ... more
Nina Jo Smith recommends:
The Sampaguitas: Folk Songs from the Philippines & Beyond
by The Sampaguitas
Magnificent bluesy Filipina Americana artist. She writes wonderful songs and performs them with great dynamism. Also look for her trio, The Sampaguitas, bringing sounds of the Philippines to the U.S.
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songs for all the days
by jean mann
Supremely lovely and highly original jazz pop. Mostly played on baritone ukulele, her songs have a poetic and loving worldview. Also see her miniature drawings/watercolors posted daily on instagram.
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Rain's songs have a strong sense of place and the times we live in. Social justice warrior but doesn't hit you over the head with it. (Unless absolutely necessary.) Seriously, give her a listen or 90.
go to albumIf you like Nina Jo Smith, you may also like:
Collaborating remotely with 12 songwriters from all over the world, Kim Edgar emerged with a work of striking art pop.
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Into the Depths of Hell
by Joshua Burnside
Joshua Burnside uses field recordings, drone, delay and spoken-word sample to modernize traditional Irish music.
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Dakota Blue Moon
by Jackson Harden
Gorgeous acoustic Americana from North Carolina, stripped-back and sublime.
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