Album Backstory

This album contains some of Eric Dahl’s earliest songs, recently recorded as a collection of stories based in and around Seattle and Tacoma. They are sometimes longer narratives loaded with imagery and fragments of dialogue reflecting his early interest in fiction, contemporary poetry, and theater. Ozark Hotel has all these elements. Listen to it as a dream journey. It is nearly seven minutes long, tells a story filled with glimpses and sounds of a blurry city in the rain just before a terrible arson fire, and it conjures a conversation between two people who were there. All the songs have a strong local focus. For example, Cannery Town is about people in a truck farming town near the Green River, being displaced by newer industries. White Water is like a medieval allegory but set in the Pacific Northwest where the power of nature and death are immediately present. Even the shorter songs combine narrative action, concise imagery, and dramatic dialogue. Dahl explains, “Writing songs seemed more like a private and obscure mystery than a creative or social or commercial act.” The songs represent the starting point for his songwriting and performance odyssey. With this newly recorded collection he returns to where it all started.

Lyrics

Sally Barlow

© 1987 by Eric Dahl

I got a friend named Sally Barlow,
known her through school and through the years.
She’s the first woman ever told me, “You’re a disgrace.”
She’s the second woman ever wiped blood off my face,
and she’s the only woman ever licked away my tears.

Don’t you think about paying. I still owe you a few. It’s on me tonight.
Go on with what you were just saying. Night on the town,
when the bars close down, I’ll make sure you get home alright.

You say you’re in a maze under a mountain,
walls and chutes and tunnels caving in.
You say you wanna know if I think you’re crazy.
Well, in my book Sally, fighting for your breath is no kind of sin.

When I climbed out, I was walking in the desert,
head wrenched around, I was missing one eye.
I thought the sun was some kind of god tryin to kill me.
I knew I’d die without water, and I knew I wasn’t gonna die.

Don’t you think about paying. I still owe you a few. It’s on me tonight.
Go on with what you were just saying.
Night on the town, when the bars close down,
I’ll make sure you get home alright.

Sally sees herself in the barroom window,
puts down her glass, starts brushing her hair.
She says, “Now I wanna buy you a round,
then let’s go walkin in the winter air.”

Don’t you think about paying. I still owe you quite a few.
It’s on me tonight.
Why don’t we leave this round on the table
and go walking into the night.
I got a friend named Sally Barlow,
known her through school and through the years.

Fortune Teller

© 2021 by Eric Dahl

Couple hours at the circus last time I saw my dad,
had no idea he was doing that bad.
We watched lions and the clowns, stepped into a booth,
toothless woman read his palm and said,
“There’s two sides to the truth.”

Fortune Teller looking into my hand,
don’t say anything more, I understand.
I already know how things are gonna go.

In an Army bar outside Frankfurt like giving in to the law,
held out both my palms till she said, “Je ne sais pas.”
And at a tavern in Redmond with my second wife,
gypsy showed me, “This line’s fidelity – this one’s life.”

Fortune Teller looking into my hand,
go ahead and say it, I understand.
I already know how things are gonna go.

Sitting on this rooftop looking up at the starlight,
something different’s gonna happen tonight.
I spent my whole life reading between lines of a curse.
Only solace I got is things are bound to get worse.

Fortune Teller looking down past my hand,
go ahead and say it, we both understand.
I already know, how things are gonna go.

Fortune Teller looking into my hand,
go ahead and say it, I understand.
I already know how things are gonna go.

Seventy Dollar Shoes

© 1993 by Eric Dahl

“Seventy dollar shoes and the boy’s only seven
so I told him no and broke his heart.
I’d like to tell him how we hold it all together,
but I know I’d better not start.
Truth is, things might be falling apart.”

You’re everything to everybody with nothing left for anyone,
even the one who holds you right.

“Darlin let me help you wash this blue out of the air tonight.
Darlin let me help you wash this blue out of the air tonight.”

I just called to tell you they’re payin straight wages,
under the table so it works out right.
I been painting cathedral ceilings in the eastside forest,
starlight, condos bright.
Darlin let me help you wash this blue out of the air tonight.
“Darlin let me help you wash this blue out of the air tonight.”

“We don’t want it all, don’t even want it easy, we just want our share.”
Building with stone on a strong foundation.
“It feels a lot like air.”

“You’re everything to everybody with nothing left for anyone.”
Cept the one who holds me right.

“Darlin let me help you wash this blue out of the air tonight.”
“Darlin let me help you wash this blue out of the air tonight.”
“Darlin let me help you wash this blue out of the air tonight.”
“Darlin let me help you wash this blue out of the air tonight.”

Lost Illusions for Bayard Johnson

© 2021 by Eric Dahl

We didn’t have time to build the boat
so we told ourselves a story.
Gonna cross the beach, half the weight each,
a home-built, flat-draft dory.

Give us one afternoon now,
in the broken glass and palm leaves where a street poet sings
or swinging with the muscle guys on the chains and the rings.
Give us one afternoon now.
Give us just one afternoon now.

I’m gonna drive down 99 to San Vicente Loan,
lease a beat-up sailship from the typhoon zone,
gonna sail it to find you, forever and back,
pay off my loan with a heart attack.

Give us one hour of daylight.
Give us just one hour of daylight
to build the dory, get it right,
guide it through the waves all foamy and white.
Gonna watch you sail with second sight
through the future,
through the past,
through the night.

Give us one full hour of daylight.

Captain didn’t say if we’d reach land today,
or sail on in pure confusion,
but we found our own way to the treasure caves
in the cliffs of lost illusion.

We didn’t have time to build the boat
so we told ourselves a story.
Gonna cross the beach, half the weight each,
a home-built, flat-draft dory.

Give us one instant of daylight
to build the dory, get it right,
guide it through the waves all foamy and white.
I’m gonna watch you sail with second sight
through the future,
through the past,
through the night.

Give us one instant at midnight.
Give us just this instant at midnight.

If I Close My Eyes

© 1985 by Eric Dahl

If I close my eyes I see a woman.
She never made it easy,
but she never said no.
Her hair always tasted like incense.
She said it came down from the stars and planets.
Told me about a boat she made,
how we could sail it over the snow.
And I – I’m feeling it strong again.
I – I don’t know where I belong.

Six inches deep and still snowing.
She said: “I like the way your shoes sound,
and if you don’t come back it’ll be alright.”
I said, Let’s just let it happen.
I have Costigan’s class, then I’ll come back running,
but I ran into some of my friends and stayed out all night.
Till I – I started feeling it strong again,
and I – I said I know where I belong.

Tapped on her door, it was unlocked.
Candle on the table, I let it keep burning.
Ran my hand down her shoulder.
She never opened her eyes.
Phone woke us up in the morning.
She told him: “I’ll be right over.”
The whole time she was smiling at me,
in complete surprise.
And I – I was feeling it strong again.
I – I said don’t you know where you belong?

When she changed her name,
she told me, “I’m still gonna want you.”
I said, You’re insane.
She said, “I’ll give you a call.”
I put everything in a shoe box,
but she came back wearing yellow shoes,
wanted to show me a doorway,
it was two-feet tall.
She said, “I just stopped here cause I was tired of walking,
climbed up your stairs, do you feel like talking?”
She said, “I – I’m feeling it strong again,
and I – I don’t know where I belong.”

Then me and the world, we had a long separation.
I went sailing over the snow.
If I close my eyes, I see a woman.
She never made it easy,
but she never said no.

Cannery Town

© 2021 by Eric Dahl

Started work at fourteen cleaning a peeling machine.
Seen all kinds of people come and go from this production line.
Twelve hours today, someone’s gotta pay,
for the landlord for the car for a movie star and a little wine.

I was so uptight when I was young.
Gave up some dreams and it’s better now.
I keep hearing the sound of a shadow hitting the ground.
If only the wind that wears us down
could bring her around somehow.

This cannery town gets a man down.
So here’s to my friends sharing smokes
at the break by a busted bin stack.
We have all said, “I won’t stay here till I’m dead.”
We all found somewhere better, far away,
and we all came back.

We were so uptight when we were young.
Gave up some dreams and it’s better now.
I keep hearing the sound of a shadow hitting the ground.
If only the wind that wears us down
could bring her around somehow.

Sometimes at night, summer
evening in the twilight,
I think I see her standing by the loading dock,
like back in school.
Sometimes by the river, I hear her laughing and whispering.
So here’s to Mary Hamlin, eyes dark as the earth,
from a cannery fool.

We were so uptight when we were young.
Maybe running was right when I think of her now.
I keep hearing the sound of a shadow hitting the ground.
If only the wind that wears us down
could bring her around somehow.

We were so uptight when we were young.
Gave up some dreams and it’s better now.
So uptight when we were young.

Northern Wind

© 2021 by Eric Dahl

Walking around half blind,
I got one thing on my mind,
I need someone beside me
to keep me warm.

Nobody’s fault but my own,
thought I wanted to be this alone,
but it’s always colder
when the sky clears out after a storm.

Blow northern wind, bring me my darlin.
Blow northern wind, blow, blow, blow.

My feet woke up singing the blues
cause someone stole my shoes.
The ones I got on I stole
from the drunk beside me.

One thing you learn down here,
there’s a whole different kind of fear.
Got no door to run to,
but no one’s trying to find me.

Blow northern wind, bring me my darlin.
Blow northern wind, blow, blow, blow.

Pounding out ice-slab licks,
my hands both froze like bricks,
my throat is dry and my voice
is thick as mortar.

I’ll sing for you anyway.
I don’t care if you can’t pay.
The look in your eye means
as much to me as the quarter.

Blow northern wind, bring me my darlin.
Blow northern wind, blow, blow, blow.
Blow northern wind, bring me my darlin.
Blow northern wind, blow, blow, blow.

The Ozark Hotel Fire

© 1985 by Eric Dahl

Didn’t take long to cross this continent
on a freight train to the sun.
Seen the great prairie and I seen the Rocky Mountains,
now that journey’s done.

Tracks hold tight to a whiterush river,
you cut down through the stone.
City in the lowlands, Seattle rain,
soaks you to the bone.

Tomorrow I’ll come down through these weeds in the yards,
run along the tracks and climb on
that old queen of the Great Northern Railroad,
rolling to the mountains when it’s dawn.

Met this woman on her way to Alaska,
led me through the city to the Ozark Hotel.
“Where you from boy, sure look lonely,
why you swayin like an empty bell?”

I just jumped the line and I got no money,
just this bottle of wine.
“Come on honey, we’re in the lost and found.
Do you hear that funny sound?
A piano in the alley,
don’t you love the way it rings,
when the raindrops hit the strings?”

Tomorrow I'll come down through those weeds in the yards,
run along the tracks and climb on
that old queen of the Great Northern Railroad,
rolling to the mountains when it’s dawn.

“Come on in boy, dry your shoes out.
You can’t sleep honey out in the rain.
Let me lock the door, hang your coat there on the floor.
Look outside my window how it’s raining in the city,
if you want to you can stay.”

“I got two kids somewhere.
They’re coming to see me, honey, someday.
You got me to hold you,
take you across the continent, rock you away.”

Hold me tight and rock me away.
Hold me tight and take me away.

Someone is calling you in the hallway.
“No don’t believe him. He’s a liar.”
Why’s he pounding at your doorway?
“Lie quiet they’re always screaming fire.
Lay your head back down and sleep now.
Oh we’re gonna sleep now.”

Tomorrow we’ll go down through those weeds in the yards,
run along the tracks and climb on
that old queen of the Great Northern Railroad,
rolling to the mountains when it’s dawn.

When it’s dawn. When it’s dawn.
When it’s dawn. When it’s dawn.

Hylebos Bridge

© 1992 by Eric Dahl

I used to soothe my confusion
driving down the Dash Point Road.
It was seventeen miles
to the Hylebos Bridge where
I’d turn around and drive home,
just turn around and drive home.

All I ever needed
was you on the other side
to carry me over the tide flats.
Won’t you come down for a ride?
Won’t you come down for a ride?

From the cliffs behind me
they say it looks like Rio,
foreign ships lighting up the bay,
but it looks like itself
from the Hylebos Bridge
and I know I can find my way.
I know I can find my way.

All I ever needed
was you on the other side
to carry me over the tide flats.
Won’t you come down for a ride?

Sometimes you make a decision
after knowing all you can know,
but this time it came like a vision.
You just cut loose and go,
You just cut loose and go.

Pitching pennies at your window,
calling up from the backyard below –
all I ever needed was you by my side.
Won’t you come down for a ride?
Won’t you come down for a ride?

White Water

© 1985 by Eric Dahl

I met him one time running a river,
we put in side by side.
Been raining all week and the snow was melting.
He said, "This will be one hell of a ride.”
Gonna be one hell of a ride.
White water, see you downriver.
White water, whoa she’s running high.

Drifting easy I was counting salmon,
spawned out floating up dead.
Then he shot by, turned and shouted,
“Don’t you see what’s up ahead?”
White water, see you downriver.
White water, whoa she’s running high.

Snag on the left, rocks on the right,
I went down the middle, but she grabbed me tight
and sucked me into a keeper.
She slams you around. You’re upside down.
You spin the kayak and come up for air.
That river she don’t care, got you locked in a keeper.
She slams you back down.
You’re thinking this time I might drown.
You twist your body for a breath somewhere.
That river she don’t care.
Your brain’s exploding, fighting for air,
saying this time I’m gonna drown.
This time I’m gonna drown.

Then he comes out of nowhere
and he knows what to do,
Got a hand on your shoulder
and he’s talking to you, saying,
“I can’t tell you why, but it’s not your turn to die.
I’ll see you downriver.
There’s a place round the bend
where the whole thing might end
when the river’s running this high.
Pull hard and don’t ask why.”

I passed the last drop and I was riding easy.
I never saw him again.
Maybe sometime in those granite boulders.
Nobody can tell you when.
I don’t know about fate,
but the river’s rising and I can’t wait.

White water, see you downriver.
White water, oh she’s running high.
White water, see you downriver.
White water, oh she’s running high.
White water, see you downriver.
White water, see you downriver.