DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SIXTY SIX
Today is my birthday. It is also Kathleen Turner, Paula Abdul, and Lou Gehrig’s birthday.
This is John Houx. He is a sick songwriter. Sick. (This is my most favorite of his songs.) I first saw him in 2008 when I first started playing out in New York. He performed with his guitar set high upon his chest and no shoes. He may still perform like this. He has been gone for seven months on a long tour across the united states and has just returned with long hair, no sleeves and one pair of pants. John Houx, for me, has been a quiet symbol of my time here in New York: I’ve probably known about John longer than any other musician I’ve met in New York. This is probably why I was super nervous to write with him – he’s a kind of symbol of great songwriting and experience for me - and, as things go, my brain froze. Unfortunate. But it was a great afternoon with someone I really like and respect, so I won out in the end. I also told him that this song we would write would be my birthday song.
It was my inclination, as I had some trouble starting, to write a song about John Houx himself. I asked him what the first thing he did when he woke up was, and he replied, “I tell myself to write down the dream I just had before I forget it, but I always have to pee and then I end up forgetting it anyway.” We also discussed the fact that he only has one pair of pants (one pair of “social” pants… the kind of pants you don’t paint in.)
And, as a side, John Houx has committed to include a stained glass, statue or mosaic of a mermaid (tail can be any color and no shells: just boobs) in the house he is going to build for himself. Can’t wait to visit you.
Well, here it is… a song about John Houx, his pants and… what else? Azerbaijan.
This is the third take. Done!
Lost so many dreams
Down those swift streams
Which side’s he on?
The waking yawn?
Or fake beyond?
Put your pants on
Greens are all your ever gonna see
Hey, John, arise!
You’re 40 days unclean Hey, John Where have your pants gone? At a loss for words Surrounded by so many screaming girls But you’re the one for me Just you, and Houx and a million cups of tea Oh, John Where have you pants gone? Oh John Azerbaijan