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Too Much of a Good Thing

by Sam Steffen

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Erin Dalton
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1.
Somethin-somethin Rag 04:39
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I can’t remember the words to this song Wrote em down but didn’t bring em along Now I’m confessin—I’m just guessin I still got the tune, but the rest is gone— If I could remember just the first line the second would be easy cause it probably rhymes but it ain’t no use—I got no excuse— And I must’ve played the thing a million times But I know the chorus goes like this: —anyway, you get the gist But this part right here, it’s in the bag— Cause this song’s called the “Something Something Rag” I thought maybe if I just kept playing the song The words’d come back—boy was I wrong! I still got nothing—I’m just bluffing Tune’s still here, but the rest’s still gone Here’s that chorus again Somewhere we’ve already been This is the worst luck I’ve ever had I forgot the words to the something something rag Maybe you’re thinking: “Man, this guy sucks Sure wish he’d get off the stage and shut up What’s he doin?—who’s he foolin He’s rehearsed it this way to make it sound made up— He’s playin the chorus one last time To really drive home how hard he’s tryin Someone should tell him that his song was bad— The whaddyacallit?—Something something rag”
2.
Psalm 151 01:56
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Moses needed to be pushed God spoke to him from a burning bush Mose said “I don’t know if I’m qualified,” “What do you mean?” the tree replied “Perhaps I can’t do what you ask I feel it’s much too great a task, I feel you’ve chosen the wrong guy We need a leader—who am I?” God said, “Are you eager for your ruin? You think I don’t know what I’m doin? I, who poured the oceans and dug the earth I, who built the universe I, who dictate the sun and rain I, who steer the hurricane I, who helped you get your people freed With me on your side—who else you need?” Can I get an amen? Can I get an amen? Amen—
3.
Back To You 06:36
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a cup of coffee still sits untouched Right where I left it back there in the diner Her message sounded like she’d been rushed I thought I knew where I might find her So I crossed several dozen mid-sized states Along a road she had once named her shortcut believing as I recalled her stubborn traits that Love was one thing she’d never aim to forfeit But my instinct’s slow—to overthrow Any notion that the worst’s come true any chance I’d take—if it’d help me make My way back to you a soldier stopped me where the road dissolved and showed me your portrait from the riot he said, “She’s wanted—we think she’s somehow involved,” I knew exactly what he meant by it; So I followed the river to the shore When I came to the sea, I went ahead and crossed it The ferryman told me not to bother him no more “If ever you ever had any luck with me, you’ve just gone and lost it” Now I’m on the road—it’s getting cold I’m inside out—I’m black and blue I’m left behind—still trine to find My way back to you The signs say one thing, but they mean something else In the end it’s all somehow connected If you want to get something done in this life, you’d better go and do it by yourself But look out: it won’t be at all what you expected The clues I’ll gather, the leads, exhaust If there only were some way, I would quit hoping All the crime scene tape reads: Do Not Cross And when the gun turns up, it’s never smoking I’m in a daze—unamazed feeling something not unlike deja vu for goodness sake, I’m just trine to make my way back to you I still don’t know if you’ll make the time for me I don’t need to know yet, I can wait and see— So I’ll wander down along the beaten path I ain’t no pioneer, no trailblazer You think I’m out for glory—hell, don’t make me laugh I just wish I could reign in my own behavior I’ll never give up, I’ll never cease to try— I never did know how to surrender They tell me beauty’s something exists in the beholder’s eye But it feels like it’s her spell that I’m under— It’s one more excuse—to win or lose feel like my nine lives by now’s down to two I’m in a pinch—just trying to inch my way back to you in a different place, maybe, at another time in the event of some extreme reversal if it was you who had fallen, been stricken blind and the story had made it round, full-circle maybe if we’d checked it sooner from running completely wild none of this ever would have happened— I just wish you could be reconciled Being that there’s nothing left for your subtraction I’m in the gale—I’m on the trail I’m almost done—I’m nearly through I’m making time—still trine to find My way back to you
4.
Tivoli-on-the-Hudson 06:32
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6 a.m. and across the street the widow’s tearing out her flowerbed Where there never have been roses and where nothing’s ever grown You would almost think to see her there that it wasn’t all inside her head You’d almost think she might just make it alright on her own And lacing up your boots you think, “Absurd, absurd,” As her child comes to wrap her in long sleeves On the steps she holds her hand and you can just make out her words, She says, “Mom, you’re the one who’s supposed to care for me…” But you know how it is living in a small town Where there’s only so much you can do Where you know you’d leave if you could just believe That anyone could ever love it much as you The line outside the bakery has all the usual customers The milkman and the paperboy and the girl who runs the store It’s February and it’s cold outside and the weather doesn’t feel too sure One of them’s calling in to Mikee to come and open up his door He steps out on the porch and says, “get off! Get off!” Even as he gathers them inside He pours them each a coffee and says, “You know I’ve had enough,” And it doesn’t cost him nothing but his pride But you know how it is living in a small town Where somehow you came to be but not to stay Where you know you’d leave if you could just believe That they could all get on without you for one day Abraham’s a housepainter, he’s had cancer for a couple years Lives alone inside a trailer in the woods behind the line His wife divorced him long ago said she simply couldn’t stand the tears That she had to leave him first if she would make it through his dying Occasionally he stops in, says, “Hello, hello!” When he’s feelin well she lets him see the kids Every time she says it breaks her heart—each time he says he knows He says, “We couldn’t know I’d make it like I did—” But you know how it is living in a small town Where you know each story and every name Where you know you’d leave if you could just believe That when you came back it’d still be just the same The town was never popular but it used to host a carnival In the park between the firehouse and the church no one attends the only famous person who ever lived here was a criminal and he really wasn’t half as bad as everyone pretends there’s a restaurant and a hotel and a bar, a bar and all the roads lead to the river just behind the railroad track and perhaps because I’ve heard it said, ‘True places never are’ my town, it is not down, on any map but you know how it is, living in a small town where it’s hard to dream of even feeling lost where you know you’d leave if you could just believe that that feeling even distance could exhaust
5.
Psalm 152 03:30
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Jacob had himself about seven sons And Joseph was his favorite one And Joseph dreamed a simple dream That the filthy ones would be made clean that the empty ones would be made full that the broken ones would again be whole; Can I get an Amen? Can I get an Amen? Amen! When his brothers learned it was so They all conspired to have him slo One day they all went on a trip They cast him down into a pit Joseph didn’t put up much fight But he never did quite lose his life His life was spared and he was made a slave He served Egyptians night and day He served a man named Potiphar The captain of the Pharaoh’s guard He liked Joseph well—until one night He walked in on Joseph with his wife Potiphar had him thrown in jail But the Lord was with him in the jail Chorus And when the pharaoh dreamed a puzzling dream He asked everybody, “What’s it mean?” Joseph said, “I know what it means—” And he explained the meaning of his dream When the Pharaoh heard his dream described He felt his eyes had been opened wide And he brought him out and it was seen That the filthy one had been made clean That the empty one had been made full That the broken one had been made whole Chorus
6.
On the Courthouse Steps 08:54
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Danny and Julia were dressed in their Sunday best Though it was a Tuesday and already snowing The cabbie who drove agreed to be their one wedding-guest On the condition that they let him leave his meter going The procedure was quick, the presider had seen to it Some words of intent and the optional kiss Life lay ahead, and he carried her into it Down through the snow on the courthouse steps On the courthouse steps—where agreements are sanctified promises notarized, futures foretold— punishments doled out—arguments justified slow gears rotated and fast ones pulled Frankie the Fist had seen plenty of things, I’m sure, He’d worked for a gang that had moved contraband One night, the police – raided their weapons store Frankie got out with a slap on the hand— The boss went to jail for holding and questioning When the trial date came, Frankie showed with the Feds There was the sound of a gun, unmistakable, deafening— and Frankie fell dead on the courthouse steps On the courthouse steps—where what goes around comes around Where you’re made to speak up while you’re fighting to breathe Where a man can be beat and kicked when he’s fallen down And Lady Luck’s always got one more card up her sleeve John Henry’s case had unfortunate precedence: A black man accused of a white homicide the all-white jury was presented with evidence it took them all of about ten minutes to decide— A TV news crew sent to report on it Caught the moment the defense began the protest: crying: “If justice ain’t served in the halls that were built for it— Then let it be done on the courthouse steps!” On the courthouse steps—where the shadow of justice falls On weeping and wailing and the gnashing of teeth On the eyes of the pained, their backs up against the walls Their hearts more inflamed by Time and by Grief Oil & Coal were the wealthiest trades, by far— Til the disposal of waste caused the profits to tank Sure, they took on some risk making trips to the reservoir til it all trickled back to the water they drank— First people got sick, and then they began to die And slowly the pieces began to connect— By the time of the trial, thousands agreed to testify, The whole town in line on the courthouse steps On the courthouse steps—where the end of the tale is set Where eventually all of the odds become even The defense lawyer yawns and puts out his cigarette Sayin a prayer to the God he can’t bring himself to believe in John Fontleroy was arrested for battery He’d been charged years before with killing his wife The Not Guilty verdict came from some technicality About how they’d never been able to turn up the knife— But now there was proof; and he was in custody He called his lawyer to tell him he was under arrest His lawyer just laughed and said “Man, double jeopardy— You’ll be free fore you get to the courthouse steps.” The courthouse steps—where fortunes are overturned Where right and wrong change with a roll of the dice Where the innocent—can be tied to the stake and burned— But you can’t charge the guilty for the same crime twice Danny and Julia, dressed in their Sunday best With two kids between them, and their lawyers beside The divorce was prepared, but there was still all the rest— the house, finances, custody to decide The procedure cost more than either one could afford to pay But they still hadn’t reached any agreement yet— And so they emerged—each going their separate way, Down through the snow on the courthouse steps
7.
Gun & Badge 07:52
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It was me and Parker’d been assigned the case By lieutenant Flood, without a trail to chase The thing was messy, so said the Sarge A child missing, thieves at large— It was your classic ransom, a demand to trade The victims wealthy and so they could’ve paid But to fool the bandits, the parents had tried And so now the ‘Missing Person’ was a ‘Homicide’ Sarge looked at Flood and Flood met my eyes Said, ‘I hope discretion you can exercise—' ‘If a man can’t do,’ said Parker, ‘what his bosses ask— He ain’t fit to wear no gun and badge’ The grieving father, in a vengeful state Hired on some outside associate Nobody talkin saw what all went down At that farm-house hide-out on the edge of town Six men with escorts, all of them inside When the building burned down, none survived— One of the victims was Ms. Velma Pearl And we soon found out she’d been Sarge’s girl— So we went to Sarge with our discovery— He dismissed us sayin ‘bring your report to me— If he goes to pieces when he’s feelin torn— That man ain’t fit to wear this uniform’ So it was me drove Parker along the killer’s route to ask a few more question, see what we could find out Up Dead Man’s Hill, as we approached the crest Parker took two bullets—through the head and chest And later that night—down in Evidence Flood returned a rifle, and his innocence— He never signed it, in or out, of course But the bullets matched the ones in Parker’s corpse— And I know he’ll say it when he takes the stand He’ll tell you all about the chain of command How if a man can’t do what his bosses ask: That man ain’t fit to wear no gun and badge’ When you’re in the precinct, it’s like the corps There’s a code of honor, an oath that’s swore I asked the Sarge once about his divorce He said ‘cop’s true love is always The Force’ When you’re on the force, the command’s a chain And that’s the meaning behind everything It’s all for one and one for all Until your in trouble, then it’s “lowest takes the fall” And I took an oath to protect and serve But not men like these, that you can be sure of— And if he can’t do right—or tell the truth when asked— He shouldn’t wear no gun and badge
8.
Psalm 153 05:16
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In the days when the world was young and raw There lived a man who was without flaw ten kids, a wife, for family crops, livestock and property— he was unselfish and didn’t hoard both night and day he thanked the Lord and abundantly, his gladness flowed they said there’d never been a man like Job— Can I get an Amen? Can I get an Amen? Amen! In those days the devil was like most men One day the Lord called unto him: He said, “Satan, as you’ve roamed the road— Have you ever seen a man like Job? Whose gratefulness cannot be quelled Whose faithfulness is unparalleled Whose humanness is such quality— Who night and day, worships me Chorus Devil said, “He’s something—but he ain’t much— You gave that fella the Midas touch Go ahead and put him to the test You’ll see he’s just like all the rest. Deprive him, lay his life to waste— You’ll see him curse you to your face. There’s a side to Job you’ve never met How much do you wanna bet?” Chorus So Job stood in his field one day When a messenger arrived to say: “We were beset by enemy swords They took your horses, killed your herds…” And as he spoke, another came: “They’ve killed your men, Job, burned your grain…” And as that one spoke, a third arrived “Your sons and daughters all have died,” Their stories ended all the same With the morbid, mournful, sad, refrain: “You’ve been deprived, you are bereft To tell the tale I’m all that’s left—” Chorus In light of all this news his faith amazingly remained in place The man they said had been unflawed Lost everything and prayed to God And for seven days he did not eat And for seven nights he did not sleep Except for this he barely spoke “What the Lord provides He may revoke” He tore his clothes and shaved his head When he finished prayin, this is what he said: Chorus
9.
Too Much of a Good Thing 04:34
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Last night it was fair game / drinkin whiskey and champagne Somebody offered me cocaine / in a bathroom stall But this morning I’m reeling / my head’s split and I’m feeling Like too much of a good thing / ain’t no damn good at all I drank from the flagon / I went chasing dragon You know it took the whole gallon for a buzz that felt small Damn right I’m complaining, it’s just myself that I’m blaming— Too much of a good thing ain’t no good at all The game was amazing / I mean the cards I was playing They went all in and I raised em / it was just too good to call I won the motherload payout / then got robbed on my way out yeah too much of a good thing ain’t no damn good at all from a toxic envir’n’ment / you were beauty incarnate in your second-hand garment / and some kind of a shawl what did you have against me that you had to convince me that too much of a good thing ain’t no good at all? Dawn broke to acknowledge that the room was demolished The brass had lost all its polish and there was a hole in the wall I tried bein honest, but no good deed goes unpunished— Too much of a good thing ain’t no damn good at all No doubt it’s recorded how my risks were rewarded How the plans that I thwarted did abhor and appall— it’s like my mama done taught me / fore the sheriff done caught me she said too much of a good thing ain’t no good at all I’ve savored and lavished, refrained from and ravished, I’ve evenly averaged, on the whole, overall— but obeying the treaty only profits the greedy too much of a good thing ain’t no damn good at all I’ve been out to lunches with the generals and judges I’ve rolled with the punches of bureaucracy’s brawl They claim that their shutting / of doors is a good thing well, too much of a good thing ain’t no damn good at all You fast and you famish, resist all you can manage Your desires you banish like the ice from a thaw Until one day you grow up and you gorge til you throw up And learn too much of a good thing / ain’t no damn good at all
10.
Times Bein What They Are 09:04
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Daddy sent a card at Christmas sayin he’s sorry he couldn’t make it home Mama had to borrow money from the neighbor just to make a supper from the butcher’s bone That year we didn’t get no stockings—but the schools were closed on account of snow I remember mama sitting us all down and sayin, “Presents ain’t always store-bought things you know— It’s sometimes when you feel like cryin that you oughtta thank your lucky star With this world bein the way it is—and these times bein what they are I come from Pennsylvania, a steel town they call Bethlehem The stacks ain’t fired since ‘03—and now there’s casinos right on top of them I’ve since lived in other places—a few of them have felt like home But I never seem to stick round too long—there’s just too much of this damn world to roam If there’s a place and y’all’re going, I’ll take the last seat in that car With this world being the way it is and these times bein what they are As soon as I got out of high school, I went off to college and took on debt In hindsight the diploma ain’t done much for me and the loans still aren’t paid off yet Someday I’ll be retirement ready but Lord knows I won’t have a dime to show Cause healthcare costs what retirement used to and social security’s goin the way of the buffalo— Boom or bust or desperation—any I’d say would be right on par With this world being the way it is and these times being what they are I met a girl way out of my own league, I knew it couldn’t ever last too long It was the first time I ever fell in love with someone, it was the first and only time that I wasn’t wrong— She said, ‘Sam, you know what your whole hang-up is? You’re about as broken as the worst I’ve seen You pretend to be living on the up-and-up, but really you’re just living on the in-between When she left she said, “You ought to thank me—it’s not everyone would let you keep those scars With this world being the way it is and these times being what they are—" I went in person to the factory to inquire after one of them jobs Foreman said they weren’t hiring—matter of fact, they were getting ready to lay some people off So I turned and started walkin, half-way home I stopped to wet my beak Bartender said I looked like I’d just stepped in from a years-long losing streak He poured a beer, slid it to me, said “Your money’s no good at my bar— With this world bein the way it is and these times being what they are—” TV says there’s been another mass shooting—the politicians have nothin to say They act like they can’t do anything about it, but they keep taking contributions from the NRA And the worse it gets the more I’m certain that calling for the police just ain’t right— If the violence of the civilian world don’t kill you, police brutality always might You can sit by and say it ain’t your problem, but one of these days you’re gonna be forced to spar With this world being the way it is and these times being what they are— When most folks are in debt and struggling because 1% hold most of a nation’s wealth And there’s still the mindset that drugs is criminal rather than a matter of public health The prison cells are overflowing with folks whose crimes don’t begin to compare to the double-dealing, power-abusing two-faced legislators who put them there But nothing comes as too surprising, the absurd don’t even feel bizarre With this world bein the way it is and these times bein what they are The forests are all catching fire, mother nature’s been keepin score Pollution is just the air we’re breathin from San Francisco to the Jersey Shore Planet Earth is on its last legs, it’s resources will all be used up soon Instead of working to develop sustainable solutions, scientists are seein bout building colonies on the moon I spose I should be singing – Ain’t we lucky to have got this far? With this world bein the way it is and these times bein what they are

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released October 8, 2023

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Sam Steffen Boise, Idaho

Sam Steffen is a Pennsylvania-bred, Boise-based singer-songwriter whose songs are the torch-wood for a new generation of folk music that has learned from the best stuff in the tradition and aims in spite of everything to keep the human spirit alive and kicking. A versatile musician and skilled finger-picker, Sam is at heart a story-teller, and a prolific one. ... more

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