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.
/

about

Contains language some may find offensive.

lyrics

Sky Blues

A Bukka White concert at the Masonic Lodge on Delmar Street − a steamy St. Louis 90/90 night.

Stopped on the way to buy with a fake ID, a 99¢ bottle of iced MD 20-20 at the Delmar Street Liquor Store. Mogen David Wine − cool and juicy − like the stuff we used to drink on Passover with a little more sugar added for flavor and just enough formaldehyde to make you see things out of the corner of your eyes. No rabbis had blessed this shit. Carried it in the classic brown paper bag. No questions asked. We were as white as donut bags. We were the only two donut bags there that night to see Bukka White.

Bukka sang about salvation from the sweet girls up on Sugar Hill and about Jesus. A little too into it, cooling off with our Mad Dog wine, hooting our “Oh Yeahs” between those hesitations that make the blues breathe. No one minded the drunk young white boys, sitting on the floor, slapping out the cool concrete back beat only they could hear, a little creamy foam on a black sea of the blues. Bukka played it like it was. Laid it right down on our doorstep. Got to us where we lived.

Bukka called them “Sky Blues” because he reached up and “pulled them out of the sky.” Milked his slide dobro with a butter knife. Squeezed out the blues until the power blacked out. Too many air conditioners in the suburbs sucking down too much juice. No iced MD 20-20 there to cool them down.

Bukka kept right on sliding down them blues, moaning rough as the Mississippi mud, pulling them out of the sky smooth as butter. With the mic dead, his voice rang out as pure as Passover wine. We were donut bags in the dark getting filled up with the blues.

Bukka was smiling as wide as the horizon when the lights came back on, his voice suddenly boomed through the Masonic Hall, echoing off the off-white walls.

I remember two donut bags stuffed and crumpled on the hard floor, as at home as litter.

credits

from Into Light: The Poems of M. D. Friedman, released January 1, 2024

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Mad Dog Friedman | Mad Dog Blues | Peddlers of Joy Lafayette, Colorado

Mad Dog writes from the moment and sings from his heart. His influences include sources as divergent as William Butler Yeats & the delta blues. His songwriting is sincere, simple & often humorous. He has recorded many solo & collaborative projects featuring his spontaneous compositions on harmonica, Native American flute & Theremin. He is also the founder of Mad Dog Blues & The Astral Project. ... more

contact / help

Contact Mad Dog Friedman | Mad Dog Blues | Peddlers of Joy

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this track or account

Mad Dog Friedman | Mad Dog Blues | Peddlers of Joy recommends:

If you like Mad Dog Friedman | Mad Dog Blues | Peddlers of Joy, you may also like: