Get all 17 Sam Steffen releases available on Bandcamp and save 50%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Too Much of a Good Thing, Poor Thing, Maxims, Mantras & Moral Tales, Say When, Unravelled Tales - Volume 2, Unravelled Tales - Volume 1, Roubles and Kopecks, Nothin to Write Home About, and 9 more.
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”
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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—
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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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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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