Eggs and Sausage (in a Cadillac with Susan Michelson), Nighthawks At The Diner, Tom Waits [027]

Song by Song - Podcast tekijän mukaan Song by Song podcast - Keskiviikkoisin

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Stopping briefly to shovel down a quick breakfast, Martin and Sam talk through the different perspectives on (and from) diners in Waits's songwriting, the intellectual posturing of overly loquacious verbosity (big words), and the marvellously stripped back a-cappella stylings of Suzanne Vega. (ps go watch Network) Song by Song is Martin Zaltz Austwick and Sam Pay; two musicians listening to and discussing every single Tom Waits track in chronological order. website: songbysongpodcast.com twitter: @songbysongpod e-mail: [email protected] Music extracts used for illustrative/review purposes include: Eggs And Sausage (In A Cadillac with Susan Michelson), Nighthawks At The Diner, Tom Waits (1975) Tom’s Diner, Solitude Standing, Suzanne Vega (1987) We think your Song by Song experience will be enhanced by hearing, in full, the songs featured in the show, which you can get hold of from your favourite record shop or online platform. Please support artists by buying their music, or using services which guarantee artists a revenue - listen responsibly. Lyrics - Eggs And Sausage Nighthawks at the diner of Emma's Forty-Niner There's a rendezvous of strangers around the coffee urn tonight All the gypsy hacks and the insomniacs Now the paper's been read, now the waitress said 'Eggs and sausage and a side of toast Coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy Chile in a bowl with burgers and fries What kind of pie? Yeah...' It's a graveyard charade, it's a late shift masquerade And it's two for a quarter, dime for a dance Woolworth's rhinestone diamond earrings and a sideways glance Now the register rings, now the waitress sings Eggs and sausage and a side of toast Coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy Chile in a bowl with burgers and fries What kind of pie? Yeah Now well, the classified section offers no direction It's a cold caffeine in a nicotine cloud Now the touch of your fingers lingers burning in my memory I've been eighty-sixed from your scheme Now I'm in a melodramatic nocturnal scene Now I'm a refugee from a disconcerted affair Now the lead pipe morning falls, now the waitress calls 'Eggs and sausage, another side of toast Coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy Chile in a bowl with burgers and fries Now what kind of pie?' À la mode if you will Just come in and join the crowd Had some time to kill, yeah You see, I just come in to join the crowd Had some time to kill Just come in to join the crowd Cause I had some time to kill

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