We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Pretty Little Troubles

by Malcolm Holcombe

/
1.
point o' view chorus i cant deny these troubled ol times i cant deny these troubled ol times i cant deny the truth is somewhere in my crippled point o' view my eyes compounded tom edison i brag against the sun that mighty mischief waits in the ground for my crippled point o' view the bastards back these bolden days graspin' evrything i can hold and blow all to hell in my crippled point o' view chorus my tongue is quick to tangle speed and douse the lights within and burn my self respect to death and warm my hands again the neon strips the night to the bone my broken dreams on the mend til mornin' comes and leaves me alone with my crippled point o' view my crippled point o' view chorus big money fills my pockets with words puppets poison my mind my eyes too heavy to hold up my head my back's too weak to try chorus
2.
yours no more you built all our bridges and mined all our coal you fought for our freedom and died in our wars steel workers in the fact'ries your back breakin' plows your sweatin' and your dreamin' made my home free and proud chorus send me your tired and poor sick and sufferin' send them to me send them to me ellis island is yours no more been thrown outta england for misdeeds and blood you journeyed and dared by God's grace and love i once was a beggar robber and a liar at the mercy of handouts and government lawyers chorus oh why do you suffer and homeless you cry only memories of justice and tears in your eyes Lord knows i dont know nuthin' less ev'ry day jus' a lil bit older and a heart in the way chorus ellis island is yours no more
3.
damn good ol' days joseph marta seven kids i know them names by heart your mother's father worked the mines petersburg to charleston st petersburg to charleston bridge in the good ol days the good ol days in the good ol days damn good ol days ol wringer washer's on the porch thieves done stole him blind one empty bottle rot gut wine cotton worked the mines ol cotton worked the mines bridge fifty cents a bloody day no child labor laws most them lil' babies died disease and alcohol disease and alchol bridge instrumental a picture tells a thousand lies comp'ny kiss my ass barefoot on the cabin floor paint the broken glass paint the broken glass bridge there's ghosts in west virginia i can feel em in my bones mem'ries of the hard times in your eyes never grow old in your eyes never grow old bridge bridge
4.
Outta Luck 04:03
outta luck fell off the edge down in little rock country girls really turn my head spinnin' outta time outta luck i never know better next time poison lives in my blood my intellectual tongue in hand bridge outta luck outta luck outta luck out i gotta weakness like wounded dog lickin' my lips and lickin' my balls off the edge down in little rock outta luck cold hands warm heart too smart call a taxi for a christmas card sirens stop the cops throw down bridge ya got my number hands down heads up hot women cold cash and drugs off the edge down in little rock outta luck these walls keepa lookin' the same ev'ry city i'm stuck insane someday i'ma gonna give up bridge fell off the edge down in little rock country girls really turn my head spinnin' outta time outta luck bridge
5.
south hampton street still and clean her long black hair i'm foolish for despair she played the gypsy concertina sweetly in the air sweetly in the air squatted in the corner shade beside some fancy place for educated young and well i saw her face i saw her face chorus one handsome gypsy woman on south hampton street and a dog from china with a stupid hat for tortured souls to please perhaps a gypsy's lucky day the grinnin' dog is strong i pray her husband wont be drunk when she moves along when she moves along her left hand played the mystery some ol eastern folk song her right hand seemed to wander lost but hypnotized my feet hypnotized my feet chorus the music carried 'cross the square my conscious cried surrender to pay the gypsy woman fair food not for a beggar not for a beggar i stopped and turned my boastin' stride feelin' sinful pride a young child full o' mother's love made the gypsy's smile made the gypsy's smile chorus chorus
6.
Rocky Ground 04:20
rocky ground the spring sun sweetly splinters the last days of the cold underfoot's still rocky ground that's justa bout all i know this bottom land's black and thirsty for tobacca fields and hands to hold the plow and pray out loud for strength to work the land chorus my spoiled and painted tainted eyes the liquid in my throat boastin' reapin' fertile ghosts the one's i love the most the one's i love the most these hills round here are old too old for recollectin' my mother's father's harvest long gone and laid to rest the tractor's turn and travel the ground over again but early in the mornin' i know now where they been chorus all i know and all i am dont matter anyhow watchin' you grow old and lovely hungry to be found hungry to be found chorus chorus
7.
pretty lil troubles hound dog chewin' bones on a ol cheap floor satisfaction best left alone long crowded days for the young and foolish never pay mind to the time three plays for quarter 40 years ago pinball racket never stopped your busted jaws and your black- eyed suzi the ev'nin' jus' dragged along chorus go on an spill your guts and complain aint nuthin left but a change dont you worry too much about your pretty lil' troubles thank God you aint never the same skinny as a rail fat dumb and happy kickin' up the dust inside aint one red nickle gonna bring you luck when your broke as hell inside chorus i keep a grin in my pocket to spin the hard times we been goin' thru i believe if you struggle missin' good ol days you aint done much o' livin' the blues chorus
8.
in bury england that ol building looked like a halfway house smelled like a old folks home inside i smoked another cigarette outside we showed up on time in bury england dave he gave me the worst cup o' coffee i believe i ever had to drink if i was drunk i'd throw it right up wouldnt give it to a dog in bury england now wouldnt ya know it some folks showed up that knows somebody somebody you know they was sputterin' names in some hall o' fame i pretended to give a damn in bury england chorus we played some songs me and jt mister w did his job the grace o' God we tagged along in bury england them ol peavy speakers stole the show before we even played a note rest his soul i heard guy clark randal knife and la freeway in bury england chorus well i'm gonna quit when i get the chance if i ever get back home again i'm gonna make a plan and settle on down and i'll always remember bury england chorus
9.
Damn Weeds 03:02
damn weeds a double-wide and a butterfly bush maters got the blight neighbors cuss the kids and dogs ev'ry day and night a friend in need is a friend in deed i thankya til yer better paid growin' up's an all day job i cant get outta my way chorus gossip and your small talk dont matter in the long run got my own row to hoe slammin' doors and doin' chores damn weeds a'takin' over the news is always all the same more guns and diggin' graves nuthin' changes til i pray i try to anyways my faith it seems to come and go like summer wind it blows lord knows i gotta believe all i do anymore chorus doctors nurses listen to me holler and complain hellbent livin' in the past and pissin' on today money goes like paradise in the hands of politicians breakin' ev'ry promise made on beauty and tradition chorus chorus
10.
the eyes o' josephine chorus a pint er two in belfast burns the eyes o' josephine an irish girl forever curls around your heart o' glass shattered blowin' into town shattered goin' back the nightshift calls your council a pitence in your pockets the wretched poor o' poison blood the government the hospital they snitch and laugh and never smile straight jackets for the crooked mile chorus i walk and stagger to your eyes the phenobarbital at night we locked you up and shut the door your brain is scattered on the floor quick to turn the hollow spurns a gapin' hole o' lonesome a pint er two in belfast burns the eyes o' josephine chorus when darkness breaks the northern lights and rapsody is killin' time a brazen bastard blessed be burns the eyes of josephine chorus
11.
the sky stood still bridge the sky stood still but the clouds keep a rollin' full o' gray red white and blue too close to the bone too far from my home nobody feels your love what's wrong with me what's wrong with you my faith in us bout all gone we march and beg cry and we scream the sizzlin sun's the same darkness cools the water i drink and wake up thirsty again bridge a sweaty knife midnight to my throat a pistol ready to hold i shoulda died many times i know but the grace of God got told dont need no resason to spill all the blood jesus died for me jus' one more opinion in the pourin' down rain in this world no shame bridge the amen section would not repent they did not even try one heart o' stone one heart o' flesh too many people die money lies for truth and for fame a bargain for us all the richer rich the colder hearted angry souls still survive bridge
12.
We Struggle 03:45
we struggle battered and born shattered and torn run ragged wastin' my time old and guilty worried and sleepless time and time again bridge we struggle we struggle over time still as a stone kicked up and down wishin' children never grow old stay where you are wait til i'm gone you'll find me someday i know bridge much has been given much is required in the fire of the sun low in the night all my friends are sick dyin' and dead my family is another baby born bridge

about

Malcolm Holcombe by Alan Kaufman

Malcolm Holcombe is possessed by a singular sort of solitary genius that, like the novelist William Faulkner, is yet the voice of an entire region – the South--and even of a generation, though somehow transcendent of it, timeless. If true greatness moves from the particular to the universal, his music speaks for all of humanity while remaining entirely his own.

A North Carolina son of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Holcombe belongs to a tradition of bardic singer-songwriters that includes such legends as Townes Van Zandt, Blaze Foley, Gurf Morlix and David Olney. He is an acclaimed contemporary of Emmylou Harris and Steve Earle and has shared the stage with Merle Haggard, Richard Thompson, John Hammond, and Leon Russell. Yet Holcombe stands apart, his soul-stirring lyrics are hill country high poetry, the music pure back roads. His musicianship is uncanny, like no other, as though he had invented the guitar.

In a very real sense he is a latter day Elizabethan poet troubadour of barrooms, ragged towns and coal miner shacks. His intimate, poignantly etched lyrics invite you in, sit you down, speak directly to you. Listening to them, you are befriended.

“joseph marta seven kids/i know them names by heart/ your mother's father worked the mines/ petersburg to charleston/ st petersburg to charleston”

“ol wringer washer's on the porch/ thieves done stole him blind/ one empty bottle rot gut wine/ cotton worked the mines/ ol cotton worked the mines”

Holcombe not only knows these people intimately, but offers you direct witness to their tragedy:

“fifty cents a bloody day/ no child labor laws/ most them lil' babies died/ disease and alcohol/disease and alcohol”
From Good Ol' Days:

Holcombe's guitarwork is always masterfully spontaneous. On stage, edgily rocking his chair, his finger-flying fretwork and strum spin the theater like a roulette wheel, while his granular voice takes us aboard an Americana folk bus that is a ravaged speeding palace of bad luck and hurtles us down the blacktop road of no return where chain gang blues mingle with Celtic madrigals resonant with hardbitten lives.

But also there are is the gentle echoing of the early Irish ballads of yore and you know that what you're hearing is like nothing that you've ever heard:

“a pint er two in belfast/ burns the eyes o' josephine/ an irish girl forever curls/ around your heart o' glass

shattered blowin' into town/ shattered goin' back/the nightshift calls your council/ pittance in your pockets”


“the wretched poor o' poison blood/the government the hospital/ they snitch and laugh and never smile/straight jackets for the crooked mile
From Eyes of Josephine

It's all his own authentic poetry and in a metaphor like “Phenobarbital of night” shimmers the epiphany of a coal country visionary, a lyric phrasing that brings to mind Allen Ginsberg whom I both knew and performed with.

“i walk and stagger to your eyes/ the phenobarbital at night/ we locked you up and shut the door/ your brain is scattered on the floor”

Holcombe's songs contain not only love but fury, careen dangerously to the edge as they portray the hopelessness of the destitute, the broken wards of shattered lives whose desperate gambles turn up craps. Holcombe sings from gut-shot experience. And here, I'll summon one more legendary man of letters that Holcombe brings to mind, a very great one, for I believe that Malcolm Holcombe is as great a songwriting poet as any this country has produced: James Agee of Let Us Now Praise Famous Men.

Like Agee, Holcombe protests against the unheeded suffering of his kin, giving voice to their voicelessness, daring us to feel what is happening to the vulnerable in our midst. He asks you: 'How can this be?' But also, there is in him a tender spiritual resignation to the foibles of human kind, a forgiving grasp of consequence and a driving hope that moves brightly to the core of our being:

“much has been given, much is required, in the fire of the sun low in the night
all my friends are sick/ dyin' and dead/ my family is another baby born”

We Struggle


Another baby born. The ceaseless cycle of death and birth is his family. He has no time for remorse or nostalgia. Trouble is only trouble but it is Life that leads him. As he sings in Pretty Little Troubles, the title song:

i keep a grin in my pocket/to spin the hard times/we been goin' thru
i believe if you struggle missin' good ol days/ you aint done much o' livin' the blues


And what we come away with is the love and beauty of these masterpieces, an authentic slice of America from a brilliantly original native-born bard of broken hearts and dreams.

credits

released August 5, 2017

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Malcolm Holcombe Asheville, North Carolina

Malcolm Holcombe is an acclaimed singer/songwriter in the insurgent country/folk vein who grew up in Weaverville, N.C.

contact / help

Contact Malcolm Holcombe

Streaming and
Download help

Report this album or account

If you like Malcolm Holcombe, you may also like: