This song was written and recorded 25 years ago for an album of the same age. I was old. I was 30. I was thinking about the wrinkley old b******s who I had split bills with in coffee shops when I was in my 20s, the small town players who never ammounted to anything and got old, the hapless weirdos who kept on keeping on after it was no longer even remotely possible for them to come to any quantifiable success, beardy burn outs with great guitars and no following.
In coffee shops and little music bars in Northfeild Minnesota and Lacrosse Wisconsin and Prarie Duchein and Waukon, places I said I would be done with when I moved to the big city… Iowa City, and started a good band. I got to start a really good band after a few years of playing out with other singer songwriters. I don't even remember how the whole thing started. Some college jazz players were the people on the first record and the line-up kinda broadened as the players were not always available. There was a little roster and by the time we were making a second record, 25 years ago, it had become a pretty good thing. We chipped away at a record for a year adding things to it that came up at gigs and crafting new songs as they got written. At a certain point in the process I started thinking about how old I was and what would become of me. I was 30 after all. Hippies were no longer allowed to trust me. I wrote this one.
Today, looking at this song is an ald guy (me) looking at the perspective of a young guy who thought he was old (me at 30) thinking about what it would be like to be a washed up ACTUALLy old guy. It’s a fun house mirror with young me looking ascance at what it would be like to be old disgruntled washed up burned out me from what was the height of our fame. It’s a great record GONE. It’s the only one we sold all they way out of print. I don't have any profound thoughts about what it means. The last time I played it live someone in the audience mentioned that they liked this song better when they didn’t think of it as a song about me.
…f**k, man… really?
It always was.
Used to Play
He used to play most every Saturday. He used to know just what to say til the words got in the way. He used to play. He never found himself a home. He never got back from alone. Never found time to himself, so he put it all up on the shelf. He used to play these songs for you. He used to tell you what to do. You’d play along, but now you say, “He used to play.”
I never did believe the line about what you did with your time. You never pulled it off to me ‘bout your struggle to be free. You used to be. I could look up eye to eye and time would not go by. At 23 you’ll never die and you were older still than me. You used to be my only love. You used to shine down from above, our waving hands would make the sea. You used to be.
You used to be.
Was it the holy smoke or trumped up accolaides? Was it that last handful of reds the feds or razor blades? You used to say, “Thanks very much to all of you…” and think, ’…for what you put me through. I gave up everything for you. Is that the best that you can do?” You used to sing, “I love you so.” We used to shine up from below. Our waving hands would make the sea. You used to be.
You used to be.
again, Randy Davis was clutch on multiple guitar parts. Nate Bassinger understands the cinematic effect of the accordion. This was definitely Marty Christiansen on bass and Adam Bernemann on drums. Again my accoustic guitar is superfluous at its best moments and gone the rest of the time. John Svec absolutely nailing a ready for radio mix that still stands up. It has not become dated to my ears, but I am burned out and old. You tell me. And while you are at it.
Buy one right here:
Its track 12
