Buddy in the Parade
 |
Album: Painted Shut Released: May 4th, 2015 Written by: Hop Along Produced by: Hop Along & John Agnello Tambourine: Kyle Pulley Vocals: Chrissy Tashjian & Matt Scheuermann |
|---|
Background
A live demo of the track was performed at the Weathervane Studio Concert in 2013.
The track is about the real-life jazz musician Buddy Bolden. Bolden was considered by many to be the King of Jazz in the early 1900s and is credited as being one of the pioneers of jazz, though his music was never recorded.
He began experiencing psychosis in his 30s, and was subsequently admitted to a sanatorium for schizophrenia where he would spend the rest of his life. After his death, his sister couldn't keep up with payments for his gravesite, so the cemetery would dig him up to make the hole deeper so they could bury more people on top of him. Eventually, they lost track of his body, and it is unknown where it lies now.
Quinlan was also inspired to write the song after becoming acquainted with someone with schizophrenia in their real life.
[...] for some reason that meeting stayed with me. I certainly take my mind for granted as my identity. I assume I'm me always. But I don't know what could happen [if] all the little ticks that I have got a hundred times worse.
Lyrics
I heard you were the king
You didn't leave behind a goddamn thing
Why did I look into
The dim eye of the mole?
There was no silence there, many voices spoke
Thinking I died, I tried to listen
I saw one hundred saddles without horses, galloping
"Get out of here, go home"
That's what you used to play at shows
Sister, sister, sister watches the furniture go
She just didn't have the scratch to keep you in that sorry hole
Money, money, money don't let you sleep
Switching graves in the cemetery
They buried you so many times, can't find your body
"Get outta here, go home"
That's what you used to play at the ends of shows
In the middle of the parade, you were frothing at the mouth
Didn't he ramble 'til the butcher cut him down?
Fool, all you touch on this turning dream
Is either gonna be burned or buried
All your jewelry goes around from town to town
All your pretty ones, I'm not gonna say where they are now
"Get outta here, go home"
That's what you used to play at the ends of shows
In the middle of the parade, you were frothing at the mouth
Children, turn on your radio and don't
Go out, don't
Go out, don't
Go out, don't
Go out, don't
Go out, don't
Go out, don't
Go out, out
Go out, don't
Go out, don't
Go out, don't
Go out, don't
Go out, don't
Go out, don't
Go out, don't
Buddy Bolden, why did I look into
The dim eye of the mole?
It drove me crazy when it spoke
It's mighty quiet in the soul
I thought I'd die, then I tried to listen
Saw one hundred saddles without horses, galloping
Oh, God, don't make me go in
I heard you were a king
Didn't leave behind a goddamn thing
And nothing's funny
Your sister stares at a dirty window
She just didn't have the scratch to keep you in that sorry hole
And money talks, that money don't let you sleep
A very wealthy family had an alcove to the top of the cemetery
And on the way
His head came right off
"Get outta here, go home"
That's what you used to play at the ends of shows
In the midst of the parade, you frothed at the mouth
Didn't he ramble till the butcher cut him down?
Your jewelry, it goes around from town to town
All of your pretty ones, I ain't gonna say where they are now
All your jewelry, it goes around from town to town
All of your pretty girls, I ain't gonna say where they are now, now
"Get outta here, go home"
Oh, that's what you used to play at the ends of shows
In the midst of the parade, you frothed at the mouth
Children, turn on your radio and don't go out
Don't go out
Children, turn on your radio and don't go out
Children, don't