The Night of the Accordion Murders. Vol. l

by jva

supported by
/
  • Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

     $7 USD  or more

     

1.
00:26
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.

about

May 15th, 1979

So this is it, eh?
This is what you've got for me, huh, God? The short stick. Thanks a heap, mighty big of You.
After all we've been through.
I tried to do things Your way. I tried. You know I tried. It just didn't take.
I hate to point fingers, old man, but the way I see it, this is all Your fault.
This whole lousy life wasted.
Rotten childhood, miserable life as a grown man (a grown man, now there's a laugh), and now this…the corker! This! Dying like a chump here in this stinking fleabag apartment (what a dump) with no one, and nothing…
Your fault.
The blood's coming up more regular now every time I cough, but the hospital's out. I'd get pinched there for sure. Better just to wait this thing out and see what happens, me and this crummy bottle.
I'm not holding out much hope.
Who was that fruity poet? Rage, rage…against what? There's never been a fuckin' thing.

Tawno Biggs
Room 500
Pasadena, CA.

---

Mrs. Walters stood in Tawno's bedroom (well, the bedroom that WAS Tawno's before he shuffled off to Buffalo) reading his last words.
Something inside her, hammered in deep since childhood, knew damn well it was wrong to be reading someone else's diary, but hey - dead's dead and the live ones still need some entertainment. She smiled at that thought, and read on.
The air was dusty, heavy in the hot room. Mrs. Walters large belly rose and fell, shuddering with her breathing. She clamped down on the cigarette between her teeth, squinting in the smoke as she read. Ash dropped onto the pages of the book. She brushed it away.

"We're about done here, ma'am."

Mrs. Walters turned her head to the voice, keeping her eyes on the book.
"Huh?" said Mrs. Walters.

"I said we're about done here, Mrs. Walters…looks like we've got everything."

Mrs. Walters pulled her attention from the diary and regarded the voice.
"Yep, that's fine." she said.

"There wasn't too much to pick up, but we appreciate you calling us. Every little bit helps, ma'am."
Nelson, the Salvation Army volunteer, took off one work glove and extended his hand. Mrs. Walters took it.

"Ha! There wasn't much cuz there wasn't much of HIM!! He was a teeny little guy!" she said letting go of his hand, grinning.

"Oh. A little guy. A short man?" he said.

"No, not short…PLENTY short…a midget, or dwarf, or whatever. He was only about THAT big…no shit" she said.

"Well, I'll be." said Nelson.

"And a sonofabitch, t'boot! Real mean little bastard." she said dropping her cigarette, and grinding it out on the wood floor with her sneaker.

"You don't say? Well, it takes all kinds, don't it?" he said.

"No one could talk to him. You couldn't talk to him at all…little asshole." she said.

"Hmmm, that's too bad, ma'am. Too bad indeed." he said.
There was a silence in the room that was four seconds long, but felt much longer.

"Well, I'm going to go then. We sure appreciate your donation." he said.

"Well, he didn't have any family or any friends that I know of, so what was I gonna do, have a fire sale? I called you." she said.

"Fine, ma'am, fine." he said. He looked at the book in her hand.

"You want me to take that too?" he said.

Mrs. Walters shook her head.
"Nope…I think I'm gonna hang onto this. I could use a laugh. That little twerp was a nut job! Talking to God and all that hooey." she said, shaking the book.

"I'll be off then." he said.

"Thanks, Nelson. Oh, and if you know anybody who's looking for an apartment, we've got a vacancy!! Ha ha!!" she cackled.

"Will do." he said.

She stood in the empty room, and listened to Nelson walk down the three flights of wooden steps. She waited until she heard his van start up and drive away.
She sat down on a dead man's bed, lit another cigarette, and turned her attention back to the book.

---

Moving now. Floating. Slipping through the dark rooms and halls. I take back everything I said, God. This Death thing? Now THIS is livin'. Oh, don't get me wrong, I was pissed at You at first. Just pissed to be dead. Who wouldn't be? The idea's unpleasant. And though I'm still not sure what all you got in mind for me here, I'm sure enjoying the hell out of it. I'm loose as a goose. I ain't got no BODY, and no BODY'S got me! That short, decrepit, ugly, little body? Well, that's all over with, Charlie. For the first time in my short (ha ha) life, I'm free. I'm an ether man now. Lighter than air. Passing through walls and windows and ceiling beams. Hey, I think I'll go back and check out that stacked, red-headed broad in 507 again. You seen that lately, Big Man? Ouch! Nice work! Woah, Boss! Ain't this the life?

-----

The telephone was ringing.
The Price Is Right was blaring.
Mrs. Walters was glaring.

She'd just eased her girth onto the sofa, and had settled in to watch the show. She held a cool glass of 7-Up in her left hand, a Pall Mall Gold in her right. She let out a frustrated "Ohhhh…"
Grunting, she pushed herself from the sofa and picked up the phone.
"Yeah? What is it?" she said.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Walters. It's Nelson. From the Salvation Army? I hope I'm not disturbing you, ma'am." he said.

"Oh, it doesn't matter anymore, I'm missing my show. I'm missing my Price Is Right." she said.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, ma'am. I'll call back later." he said.

"No, no, it's ruined anyhoo. Whaddya want?" she said.

"Again, I am sorry. It's just something you said the other day…about a vacancy in your building? he said.

"Yeah, the painters just finished up in there this morning. It's like new. What, do you want it?" she said.

"Actually no, it wouldn't be for me. It would be for my mother, bless her heart." He said.



To be continued...

credits

released August 9, 2013

Mastered on June 15th by Ryan Foster, Foster Mastering.

tags

license

all rights reserved

feeds

feeds for this album, this artist

about

jva Portland, Oregon

Hi. I’m Jim Walker
I make music.

contact / help

Contact jva

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: Tawno
Hurts...Nelson...
Track Name: All Fall Down (Room 500)
ALL FALL DOWN

I hear foreign words, hanging in the salty air.
In a moment’s time, worries fade and disappear.
Not a car in sight. Under maraschino light.
All fall down. All fall down.

Too many broken bones. Tattered rags and history.
The raincoats flaps. Stop the clock with this black key.
It’s like a storybook. Every written page a hook.
All fall down. All fall down.

And it all flies by in the blink of an eye.
And the luck’s too late. And the nightmare waits on every corner.

The shop is closed. The dress forms pose.
With a threadbare stare. I never will forget this day.
All fall down. All fall down.
All fall down. All fall down.
Track Name: The Dark Clouds Hung Low (Room 405)
THE DARK CLOUDS HUNG LOW

It was a black and whipping night. A hand was on a thigh.
The bartender was closing up, a good time for telling lies.
Candles burned on counter tops. In the corner they were counting cash.
In the dim, a girl stared at him. Her eyes tore like a lash.

And from the gloom she came. Lit the walls up like a war.
And she passed by him, disappearing out the door.
And she took the room with her, and the air just flowed.
And the dark clouds hung low.

A woman spoke on the telephone. Outside the omens poured.
On her face each imperfection showed, and his heart began to soar.
After work, her night was young. His old jealousies ran green.
He thought about the women he’d known, and the ones who stayed in dreams.

And his waters ran so dangerous and deep.
He put his bathrobe on. Shame and electricity.
Began a night just as creep as a man could go.
And the dark clouds hung low.

A hotel window in a crowded town. Below the cars rolled by.
One of those days when he’d pulled inside himself and squeezed out dry.
Bars and banks and coffee shops. Every color seemed to blur.
Even the sky seemed wound too tight. And that’s when he saw her.

At her office desk, in the building across the way.
And she looked so sad. And he wished she could hear him say,
“Oh girl, you’re not alone...”
But the dark clouds hung low.

Oh girl, you’re not alone.
Track Name: Any Other Way (Room 309)
ANY OTHER WAY

You’re hanging linen out to dry. You can hang me, too.
They haven’t paved the streets in years, so no one passes through.
I still hear the wish I made when I was a kid.
Ducking back into the alleys, hiding from my lips.

This is for the hole inside me. This is for my stomach growling.
This is how I keep my soul clean. This is where I shake the blood off my dreams, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Don’t you ever lie to me. See what I can do?
You can stand there in the dead black with no ones eyes on you.
And hold onto that hope in Hell you just go on about.
I won’t feel a thing my dear. As if you had a doubt.

This is for the hole inside me. This is for my stomach growling.
This is how I keep my soul clean. This is where I shake the blood off my dreams, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’m missing digits, but it all goes with the job.
I’m speckled like a robin’s egg with ruby polka dots.
Sixteen years of union cards, I can’t sleep at night
for fear I’ll wake up staring into the ghosts of a million eyes.

This is for the hole inside me. This is for my stomach growling.
This is how I keep my soul clean. This is where I shake the blood off my dreams, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Track Name: Little Black Heart (Room 104)
LITTLE BLACK HEART

Jezebel is my waitress. She brings me what I need.
Steps on my toes while I pardon her reach. I just smile and bleed.
But she’s got a boyfriend out there somewhere who treats her like a child.
I’d try my luck but my little black heart’s still wild.

Friends say I need some kind of life. Maybe a ring to make me whole.
A picket fencepost driven through my chest, my heart, my soul.
Just picture me, staying constant. In one place for awhile.
I wasn’t made that way. My little black heart’s still wild.

I wonder where you are right now.
Maybe back in New Orleans.
How long have I been missing you?
My whole damn life it seems.

If I could somehow take us back in time, to the day that I met you.
I’d apologize for all the things I was about to put you through.
Especially how I said goodbye. God, I think I even smiled.
But it was no good then and it’s no good now...my little black heart’s still wild.

I wonder where you are right now.
Maybe back in New Orleans.
How long have I been missing you?
My whole damn life it seems.

Someday I might just settle down. Leave this late-night life behind.
But not right now, my little black heart’s still wild.
Not right now, my little black heart’s still wild.
Track Name: Are You Still Here? (Room 204)
ARE YOU STILL HERE?

Where are my manners? Please take a chair.
Thanks for your hard work. We don’t really care.
It’s nothing personal. Don’t take it so hard.
Turn in your pass key and company credit cards.

There’s the door. You’re all through. It’s over and it’s done.
Are you still here?

I can’t believe it. They fired you today?
Oh my poor baby, Too bad you can’t stay.
I’m sorry darling. I know it’s rough.
But without your money all we've got is love.

There’s the door. You’re all through. It’s over and it’s done.
Are you still here?

Are you still here?

He walks through the cold streets. Carries his clothes.
Talks to his Jesus. He asks what Heaven knows.

There’s the door. You’re all through. It’s over and it’s done.
There’s the door. You’re all through. It’s over and it’s done.
Are you still here?