Suitcase On The Loose Album
SUITCASE ON THE LOOSE
10 SONGS BY ALEX SHOUMATOFF
Producer: Kate McGarrigle
Sound engineers: Slava Egorov, Brad Albetta
Suitcase is a voice from the Sixties that sort of fell through the cracks. Back in 1970 Alex Shoumatoff’s twenty-three-year life journey came to a fork. Should become a singer-songwriter, as many of his peers were trying to do? He had a contract with Manny Greenhill, the manager of Muddy Waters, Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, and his guitar teacher, blind Reverend Gary Davis (whose gitjo, or six-string banjo, he plays on several of these songs), and he was supposed to perform his songs at places like Gerde’s Folk City and the Gaslight. Or should take off and see the world and write about what he encountered? He ended up doing the latter and became the celebrated long-time contributor of Vanity Fair and author of ten books, hailed for his literary reportage from the world’s most remote and inaccessible corners and his chameleon-like ability to write about anything, from Donald Trump to the pygmies of the Ituri Forest. eHhE But he never stopped playing music, and wherever he went he always took along a guitar and jammed with the locals, and his original southern country blues and gospel and Appalachian orientation was expanded by exposure to Brazilian samba, Zairean rumba, gypsy and Indian music.
In 1999, Shoumatoff and his family, after many moves, landed in Montreal. Montreal is a city with 200 ethnic groups and all kinds of music, and Shoumatoff immersed himself in it. He renewed his friendship with Kate McGarrigle, whom he had met in a club in Boston, where she was performing ,in 1970. She and her sister Anna had gone on to become the legendary McGarrigle sisters, and Kate had had two children, Rufus and Martha Wainwright, who are stars in their own right. Their father, Loudon Wainwright III, grew up across the street from Shoumatoff in Bedford, New York and became one of the great singer songwriters of his generation, which a part of Shoumatoff still yearned to be.
In Montreal he started to perform in a café under the name of Suitcase. Shoumatoff was always trying out names on himself. Flash Flood. Anagarika, the Homeless One. The Rootless Cosmopolitan (as Stalin’s favorite jazz trumpeter was branded after he fell out of favor and was sent to Siberia). Umushyitsi, Rwandan for a guest, as well as a child who dies young. In l990, while doing a story on the ethnocide of Tibet for Vanity Fair, he had a two-hour audience with the Dalai Lama, during which he asked great boddhisatva about the core Buddhist belief in shunyata, or emptiness, the notion that nothing is intrinsically real, it’s all a projection of your mind. “Last night,” he related to His Holiness, “I got up in the middle of the night to answer the call of nature and tripped over my suitcase, which I had left in the middle of the room, and fell flat on my face. You can’t say it was in my mind, because I had completely forgotten it was there.”
The Dalai Lama let out a series of resonant basso ho-ho-ho’s, and said, “What is a suitcase ? You can describe everything about your suitcase : its size, shape, the material it is made from, and so on. But there will always be something about the suitcase that you failed to describe. And furthermore, if you had been a sub-atomic particle, you would have passed right through the suitcase. Therefore neither you nor the suitcase exist—independently.”
One day in 2003, sitting on his old battered Delsey hardshell suitcase, his inseparable traveling companion for the last fifteen years, at a train station in Peru, he remembered their conservation and said to himself, “That’s what I am. The Suitcase.” An unfettered, free-floating consciousness, he explained to his friend the Brazilian artist Antonio Petikov a few months later, “a stateless suitcase, a weightless suitcase, a loveless and a hateless suitcase,” and Petikov added, “surfing the world, no bullshit attached.”
The Suitcase (one of a number of suitcases in the music world, Shoumatoff discovered to his chagrin after he had adopted the name and it was too late to change it) began to write songs again. Four of the songs on this cd are of this millennium, the other six are from the hippie days of his youth. He played them for Kate—the new ones and the ones from years ago, and she liked them enough to help him realize his dream of recording them. The sessions took place in Kate’s cozy home studio in Montreal, Querbes Service, in the summer of 2007. Some of Montreal’s most accomplished musicians dropped by. The six-foot-nine genius guitarist John Reissner, who hadn’t picked up a guitar in four years and was working in a paint store, was persuaded to come over, and he laid down some astonishing licks. Slava Egorov, who was doing the recording with his old Soviet microphones, contributed some manic, shamanic fluting. Two generations of McGarrigle women sang backup vocals. Kate orchestrated and arranged the cosmic gazpacho that the musicians—Joel Zifkin, Michael Jerome Browne, Michel Pepin, John Rudel– were cooking on her ground floor, and here is the result— a bag of tunes going back 38 years and as recent as a few weeks ago, a beautiful musical accompaniment to a voice that is not beautiful or musical, but distinctive, the voice of Everyman of the generation that came of age in the Sixties, untainted by having to make a living at it, ten songs written over the course of a lifetime, so together they are a kind of life statement. Anyone who likes a good lyric will agree that the Suitcase coulda been a contenda.
Song Lyrics
1. The Blind Wandering Prophet of Old
In some houses there’s no laughter
In some houses there’s no clock
In some houses there’s no food to eat
In some houses there’s no lock.
Some people are crazy about guilt
They want to be forgiven cuz flowers wilt
Milk is spilt, men are kilt
They like to see everything at a guilty tilt
Let me tell you about class cuz I been there
Sitting in the lap of luxury
Shaking my head when the beggars dropped dead
I used to beautiful down to a t
Chorus :
Come to me you weary souls
And all your secrets will be foretold
Your old will be young, your song will be sung
By the blind wandering prophet of old
Some want to see the Eiffel Tower
Others want to see the Golden Gate Bridge
Some want to see the Statue of Liberty
But how many just want to see ?
Some people will tell you this place is no good
Others will allow that it’s fair
But don’t you believe a word they say
Cuz the good life is everywhere
Yes, everybody’s got a homing device
Dogs and dolphins, men and mice
And every soul has a river
That leads to Paradise
Chorus
Well I’ve sung my way through different scenes
I can operate a few machines
In winter I put up the storm windows
In summer I take out the screens
Four score and twenty ears ago
The pilgrims made their landing
Are we ever going to find the peace
That passeth understanding ?
vocal : Suitcase
Steel-string guitars : Alex Suitcase and John Reissner.
Harmonica : Chaim Tannenbaum
Accordion : Kate McGarrigle
Background vocals : , Kate McGarrigle, Michael Jerome Browne, Chaim Tannenbaum
2. What’s the Drill
It sure would be nice to know
How it’s going to go
What’s the drill ? Up or down
Or back again in another form ?
Is there anything at all ?
Or is this it, one time around ?
I guess I’ll play it by ear
It’ll soon be clear enough
I won’t miss the brutality
Of physicality
The pain I’ve cause the ones I love
I can’t undo or make up to you
Only time can heal the hurt
There will always be suffering
People grabbing what they can
The beauty of this world does not need me around
To cry for it
And I sense there’s more to come
Death is not the end of it
There’s something nothing can destroy
The inner calm, the consciousness, the joy
In everything that lives
There’s no way of ceasing them
Vocal : Suitcase
Guitars : Suitcase, Kate McGarrigle
pennywhistle : Slava Egorov
violin : Michael Jerome Browne
Mandolin : Chaim Tannenbaum
String bass : Brad Albetta
3. Pennsylvania Turnpike Blues
Chorus :
Pennsylvania Turnpike Blues (twice)
Tell me which exit shall I choose
I’m just cruising all confused
Threw my belongings into the trunk
Polished off a fifth but I didn’t get drunk
Got in my convertible started to cruise
Pennsylvania Turnpike Blues
Chorus
Well I don’t want to go to Harrisburg,
And I don’t want to go to Pittsburgh
All I want to do is cruise and lose
My Pennsylvania Turnpike Blues
Chorus
Picked up a hitchhiking stranger
He didn’t say a word he was deaf and dumb
Took out a bible and started to thumb
Stopped at Revelation Chapter One
Chorus
Let’s make it down to Philadelphia
They call it the City of Brotherly Love
Check out the crack in the Liberty Bell
Let’s go to Philly what the hell
Chorus
Vocal and six-string guitar : Suitcase.
Twelve-string guitar, Michael Jerome Browne
Piano : Kate McGarrigle
4. It’s Only Flesh
It’s only flesh
And you never fully mesh
But the flesh you try to mesh with
Can really get you in a mess
It’s only fair
Tthat everybody pair
But when the oneness isn’t there
It’s a miserable affair
If you ain’t perusin’
That the fusion is illusion
You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’
It’s only flesh
However young and firm and fresh
No more or less
Than each succulent caress
The hottest bod
Turns to sod
And guys that lust
Crumble into dust
The dream of merging eternally
Can be shattered internally or externally
And leave you burning infernally
Life is full of painful twists
It’s a cherry in a bowl of pits
[not piss, as it comes out sounding; mikes don’t pick up ts. ]
But the pain of no longer being kissed
And the love you’re dying to give not even being missed
Is the worst that can exist
So keep it in your sneaker
Think twice before you fall
Cuz flesh makes fools of us all
Vocal : Suitcase
Rhythm guitar : Suitcase, Michael Jerome Browne
Montreal neo-swing guitar : Michael Jerome Browne
Piano : Kate McGarrigle
Percussion : John Rudel
String bass : Brad Albetta
Violin : Joel Zifkin
5. Forest Woman
There was a forest woman
Her beauty was strangely sad
Soft shadows followed her footsteps
And I loved her with everything she had
From the clouds that float like foam
Across the rosy skies
She must have learned the silence
Of her angelic eyes
But tears of distress came into them
When I confessed my love
She made every attempt to discourage me
That gentleness was capable of
But I was lost and desperate
I’d just come out of the city
I finally overwhelmed her
In the confusion of her pity
Our love was brief and it brought little joy
But soft shadows of sorrow
Crept across our golden afternoon
And stole into tomorrow
One day she came to me and told
The terrible truth she’d been trying
So hard to keep me from knowing
That she was hopelessly dying
Well I’m going to see that beautiful shore
Where she already has gone
My hope comes from the last thing she said
That the darkness turns into dawn
Vocal : Shoumatoff.
Fiddle, banjo, twelve-string guitar, : Michael Jerome Browne
Ocarina and bamboo flutes, Slava Egorov
Big drum : Slava Egorov
Back ground vocals : Kate McGarrigle, Martha Wainwright, Brad Albetta
String bass : Brad Albetta
6. One Morning Soon
Early in the morning
A voice comes to me
A voice I cannot see
It says
All the little children in the land
One day they’ll be playing in the band
Chorus :
One morning soon
One morning soon, little children
One morning soon
As I stand by my window
Looking through the gloom
A voice fills the room
It says
All the little children in the land
One day they’ll be running hand in hand
Chorus
As the sun shines through
Bringing in the day
A voice comes to say
All the little children in the land
One day they will make us understand
Chorus
Vocal : Suitcase
Backup vocals : Suitcase, Kate McGarrigle, Slava Egorov
Electric guitars : Fantamady Kouyate, recorded in Bamako, Mali, 2004; Alex Shoumatoff
Rama : Slava Egorov
Acoustic guitars : John Reissner, Kate mcGarrigle
Fiddle, fretless gourd banjo : Michael Jerome Browne
Percussion : Slava Egorov
7. Looking for a Place
I’m looking for a place about an acre or two
An acre or two, an acre or two,
Looking for a place about an acre or two
That’s big enough for me and you
It’s got a dog and a fire and a field and a stream
A field and a stream, a field and a stream,
It’s got a dog and a fire and a field and a stream,
It’s something I saw in a dream
It’s got a little front porch with a railing for your feet
A railing for your feet, a railing for your feet
It’s got a little front porch with a railing for your feet
And lots of friendly neighbors to greet
Well I hear there’s land available in Brazil,
Available in Brazil, available in Brazil
I hear there’s land available in Brazil
But I kinda like this country still
Well can anybody tell me where it could be
Where it could be, where it could be
Could anybody please tell me where it could be
A little place for you and me
Vocal, gitjo, whistling : Suitcase
Buffalo Gal : Kate McGarrigle
Who’s Afraid Of the Big Bad Wolf in Russian : Slava Egorov
8. Too Much
Too much wealth
No good for your health
You don’t need more stuff
Ain’t you got enough
You feel much better when you share
Your heart opens up when you start to care’
When you just think of yourself
You always pay the price
So why not try to be nice ?
The human hand is heavy on the land
Heavier than it can stand
We’re puttin too much carbon in the atmosphere
Now we got to figure out
How to get it out
Too many cars on the road
Too many mouths to feed
Too much need, too much greed
Too many houses to heat
Too many toilets to flush
Too much waste to much rush
We got to mobilize
To stabilize
Cherish or perish
Cherish or perish
Everything that lives has something to give
A role to play the right to be here
Everything in the world needs to be loved
So put down your fists and on with your gloves.
Cuz the human hand is heavy on the land
Heavier than it can stand
The human touch is too too much
Vocal : Suitcase
Electric guitar : Michael Pepin
Acoustic guitars : Suitcase, Slava Egorov
Gitjo : Shoumatoff
Piano : Kate McGarrigle
Saxophone : Jody Golick
Violin : Joel Zifkin
Percussion : John Rudel
Backup vocals : Kate and Anna Mcgarrigle,Martha Wainwright, Lily Lanken
9. The Stream of Life
I was walking down a stream
When I came across an elf
He said what do you think you see in me
That you don’t see in yourself ?
I been walking this world ten thousand years
And you can see for yourself how it appears
So what do you think you see in me
That you don’t see in yourself ?
I walked a little more
When I came across a bird
He said what do you think I’m singing for
If it isn’t to be heard ?
I been singing my song ten thousand years
And all you gotta do is give me your ears
The stream ran into a river
Where an old bull was standing on the bank
He said I can’t keep up with the herd no more
So they left me here on this shore
The water’s too fast for me to get past
I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last
But one thing I can tell you
It sure has been a blast
Vocal and six string guitar : Suitcase
Twelve-string guitar : Michael Jerome Browne
Electric guitar : Slava Egorov
10. Suitcase On the Loose
I’m a suitcase
Don’t stay too long in any place
A weary beat-up suitcase
No name, no tag, no face
Got no destination, no deadline
Just pack my clothes and head on down the line
I’m a lost case
Going no place fast
A displaced, disgraced suitcase
that’s running from the past
Got no pretext
no prepared text
I’m just here one day and gone the next
Got no heart to break
no money to take
no steady job, no soul to rob
I’m a suitcase on the loose
that’s seen a lot of use
I’m a suitcase on the case
circulating all over the place
flying by the seat of my pants
catch as catch can
just trying to stay one town ahead of the repo man
I been to Mali and Bali
Angola and Appalachicola
I’m a traveling fool, I’m mad for travel
smooth, rough, asphalt, gravel
Any old surface will do
cuz I’m just passing through
You know I never been to Barcelona
I’d like to get there before I’m a goner
I’m a stateless suitcase, a weightless suitcase,
A loveless and a hateless suitcase
I been lost and found
I’ve covered a lot of ground
I’m a suitcase on the loose
Got nothing more to prove
and nothing left to lose
I’m just trying to shake these lowdown lonely suitcase blues
Well I guess it’s time to skedaddle
Got to make it to Seattle
I’m a suitcase on the loose
that’s getting itchy and footloose
So it’s so long, been real nice being with ya
and as they say in Ethiopia, Abyssinia
Vocal : Suitcase
Piano and organ : Kate McGarrigle
Guitar : Suitcase
Violin : Joel Zifkin
Perc : John Rudel
Bass : Brad Albetta
Kate’s Linernotes :
Back in the late sixties early seventies there was an an uncontrollable urge for young folk of well-heeled middle class families as well as a few less fortunate ones to throw away all values taught him or her both at home and in the finest schools and to seek instead the path of truth and godliness – a path strewn with bass weejin loafers and wrap-around madras skirts tossed out of Volkswagen van windows and replaced with mexican huaraches or sometimes no shoes at all as these seekers took to this road. And lo they made their way along this path (preferably in a vw van or whatever one’s thumb pulled over) and together, along this path, they raised their voices in songs of freedom, thousands and thousands of voices raised in songs of freedom.
Now the stones that made up this path were hallucinogenic drugs but the mortar that held them together was music. It was a simple music, not the sophisticated sound of Tin Pan Alley or Broadway but a music that resounded with the same strains as the work songs heard along back roads where convicts, once upon a time chained together, sang from their hearts and souls. We wanted to hear the sound of roots – we wanted to water these roots and help them flourish into a new sound all our own.
I first met Alex Shoumatoff in the early seventies in Boston. He had his watering can, i.e., his guitar, and was growing a little garden of country blues….mostly based on the music of Reverend Gary Davis. As it turned out, I too was watering the same patch and fancied myself a decent interpreter of his songs(not bad for a girl) ” Twelve Gates to the City” and Oh lordy how happy i am” were on my “let me dazzle you” list i had to impress fellow folkies… Anyhow Alex was in Boston contemplating music as a career as we all were since it was the home of the great Manny Greenhill who put Joan Baez on the map, but with the subsequent publishing of an article on the Reverend Gary Davis(in Rolling Stone), he opted for the written word instead – easy choice – it paid the rent.
And time went by, life went by… and many many years pass, over thirty. Suddenly I get a call from Alex saying “Remember me? Alex Shoumatoff? I’m your neighbour now, just live over on Jeanne Mance (about 5 minutes from me)…wanna get together and jam, play some Gary Davis?” He came over and I said “What’s in the suitcase Alex? You didn’t have that when I first met you” and he said he didn’t have use for one yet as life was new and he hadn’t collected any baggage and i said “Open it up, let’s see what’s in there.” And 40 years of songs were in there: from the Pennsylvania Turnpike Blues where he first turned on to that path of freedom, right up to “What’s the Drill? up or down or back again in another form… I wish I really knew”…and I thought “in this suitcase is a life” – his life, my life: everyman’s life, everywoman’s life. There’s love, lost and found, an Acre or Two and What is the Drill?
We all wish we really knew.