Basically in the script there were these big gaps which just had Nick Cave and no dialogue written down. I am a crooked man. Either that or they all need a meal ticket. Your funeral, my trial It misses. We're too far into this ugly scene for him to quit or back down now. Do you think that Jack hasn't got a memory?". "Quite possibly. "His entire life is spent on the periphery of things. Williams. I'm glad. Nowhere far. Our conversation goes like this: We're dog-tired. Nick spies my travel bag nearby. The Cave constituency tonight in Utrecht, and virtually every night elsewhere, couldn't change its underwear without help. Above all he's hypnotic. How the stranger fitted into their lives was a bit of a scandal. It's no big deal. He doesn't want to talk about heroin any more and we're well on the way to a head-to-head collision. He'd have trouble pissing against a lamppost. She was never any kind of threat. I am quite aware that my voice is basically unlikable. I kind of find some sort of enjoyment in that. Deanna had gone back to the home and shot the strange man and woman in the religious teacher's house. "I'll fucking kill you, you bastard," he bellows, trying to tear out my left eye with filthy spatula nails. Saw the moon The way my baby love is some solid sentiment She can love to heal the sick and she can love to raise the dead You think I'm jokin' but you better be- lieve what I say I'm beggin' you baby, cut out that off the wall jive Yeh you gotta treat me better, or it gotta be your funeral and my trial Upstairs in the Museum Hotel, meanwhile, Cave is freaking out. I'm quite nervous and not a racist, which is the opposite of this character. I really care about what we do and I really care that the shows are good and try my hardest to make them that way and I'm always upset if they're not as good as they should be.". Doffed her weeds, in a pile. The only problem is not even Jesus could raise Bleddyn from his bed. "I remember the Paradiso. Three in the morning. Two days and one country later, just before a glass comes whizzing by my head and smashes against a wall, Cave will insist that "people don't bring us drugs … all that happens backstage at our gigs is that people drink our alcohol". Nick says he often comes over as retarded in interviews because he can't trust journalists, especially English ones, who nod in agreement to his halting answers and then ridicule him in print. Neither do I. Cave is an epic storyteller of Grimm proportions. Look how young-looking I am," says Roland, who's 23 going on 99. The fact that he can rope in some of the most gifted musicians of the era, be it Kid Congo or Bargeld, is testament to the esteem he is held in popular music's more fractious quarters. Like Mutiny, that particular song, and Sad Waters. (I'll Love You) Till the End of the World. he screams at me, aiming a scuffed cowboy boot at my groin. Reed. Reeling. F Am I am a crooked man F Am And I've walked a crooked mile Em G Night, the shameless widow Am G Em Dm Doffed her weeds, in a pile Em F G The stars all winked at me Em F G They shamed a child F G Your funeral, my trial F Am One thousand Marys lured me F Am Into gulleys damp with clover Em G Bird with crooked wing cast Am G Em Dm Its wicked shadow over Em F G A bauble moon did mock Em F G … Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons! Your Funeral My Trial Songtext von Joe Bonamassa mit Lyrics, deutscher Übersetzung, Musik-Videos und Liedtexten kostenlos auf Songtexte.com Are you aware that you've got this myth that you carry with you that could be held responsible for the launching of a thousand goth bands? The new record is coming back to a more conventional sort of lyric. I haven't really seen it mentioned (openly). Cave, on this appearance, doesn't seem to have the makings of a great thespian. "The next day I was woken up by my mother and had to answer all these questions from the police. "Listen," says Cave as I make for the exit. Your Funeral... My Trial I am a crooked man And I've walked a crooked mile Night, the shameless widow Doffed her weeds, in a pile The stars all winked at me They shamed a child Your funeral, my trial A thousand Marys lured me To feathered beds and fields of glover Bird with crooked wing cast It's wicked shadow over A bauble moon did mock Earlier on I'd telephoned my girlfriend who said a couple of friends of hers had become addicts in part because they dumbly wanted to ape the kind of lifestyle Cave exhudes. The story has just begun. Along the way he has left a narrative trail of picaresque characters. Delusions. It's only in the last two years of his life that he swings into action and creates situations with consequences. I told them, 'No way', and took them off to interview me among the prostitutes. It misses. We played here when we were the Birthday Party. Nick Cave is a journalist's nightmare. So one day we robbed a house and found a handgun which we took back to our little grotto. Just a couple of moments here and there. "You scum-sucking shit!" "You're the person, it's your type that are responsible for those people dying for insisting on writing about it." The new record is coming back to a more conventional sort of lyric. Nick Cave is a man of many voices. On Deep in the Woods (a song whose treatment of the female character was interpreted by many as misogynistic – JB) I concentrated so much on sort of lyrical flow and nice use of words that the actual story behind the song is really ridiculous, a grotesque exaggeration that's ultimately really kind of comicbook and shallow. Typically, in rehearsal, he describes in emotional terms – lechery, compassion, violence etc – the sort of atmosphere he wants the band to create. "It isn't mentioned. Découvrez des références, des avis, des tracklist, des recommandations, et bien plus encore à propos de Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Your Funeral ... My Trial sur Discogs. Night, the shameless widow Eventually the press officer comes between Cave's gale-force windmill limbs and my passive resistance. Nick might feel sorry for himself beyond belief, but belief is often the problem, the search for or lack of it. They shamed a child. About now, I start collecting my belongings from Cave's room, since the whole scene is getting beyond pathetic. Nick Cave Meaning to "Your Funeral My Trial" song lyrics. Nonetheless, after that happened she was taken off to some sort of child psychiatric place. The sensible thing to do would be to terminate the interview here and now. "Well, no I don't actually feel that. "I can't help it that I take this particular drug," he continues. Nick Cave, before we split for bed after our four-hour interview, summed up his feelings about his heroin addiction in the following way: "I've always wanted to hone my music, writing and lyrics down, so they are as pure as possible. I've seen myself have an influence over people, in regard to drugs. I had hoped that Bleddyn would be here. Nick stops. Stranger than kindness, the singer returns and takes us back to sample his go-faster vitamins at the hotel. "Smack. Log in to add lyrics, add aliases, add genres, follow this artist & more. Sonny Boy Williamson Your Funeral And My Trial Lyrics. The blood they're sucking is clotted. Your Funeral and My Trial This song is by Sonny Boy Williamson II and appears… on the album Down And Out Blues (1959) on the album Bummer Road (1969) on the album This Is My Story (1972) on the album Bring It on Home (1972) on the compilation Chess Blues (1992) on the compilation Murder: Songs from the Dark Side of the Soul (2010) Bollocks. As the Bad Seeds' rhythm section of Harvey and drummer Thomas Wydler deliver the uppercut of another new song, Oh Deanna, Cave jack-knives around the stage. Ironically, though the surface vibe may be different, the clothes cut from another loom, the uniform of personal as opposed to social alienation that Cave deals in is the oldest cliche in the book. More than the first three releases, 'Your Funeral' contains personal, confessional and landmark themes that have become haunted tales of lust, despair, and tragedy. There's no party. But not far enough. Publicist, photographer, Seeds piano player Roland and I crack up at the thought. As the city rises up As the city rises up As the city rises up As the city rises up. Frenzy. I think something like Your Funeral, My Trial has got its humorous side, because I'm reasonably aware of the reputation that I've got. With Cave gone and Roland captive it seems a good time to interview the classically trained German keyboardist. In And the Ass Saw the Angel, the photographer is in fact a chronic voyeur. Night, the shameless widow. As the provisional title implies, the record marks a continued shift in Cave's attitude to, and use of, biblical imagery, compared to say the Birthday Party's venomous Prayers on Fire, with songs like the almost redemptive tones of New Morning. Why? Angry. He wants respect but doesn't seem to respect a journalist's freedom to inquire. "Anyway, we used to play truant from school and go to this little hideaway that she had fashioned under this bridge over a dry river creek. And if we rise, my love Before the daylight comes A thousand galleon ships would sail Ghostly around the morning sun. I get everything organised in advance. And I really regret ever having opened my mouth about it.". Chordie is a search engine for finding guitar chords and guitar tabs. He's one of nature's organisers, with a Filofax in his head rather than his pocket, as well as a wicked wit. But I always really worry before I make a record that it's just not going to be there. Notes in indicate single notes, not chords. "Because I didn't realise what a fucking scumhill and what a filthy little prick you were," snorts Cave, shoving me out into the corridor and slamming the door behind me. A lot of this, obviously, hinges on Nick's voice itself. The foot misses its target, resulting only in a bruised thigh. "I only trust somebody when I feel that they are genuinely on my side," he mentions pointedly. And I've walked a crooked mile. Idiocy. All the crooked bitches that she was Sensing the interview is winding down, I decide to put a final shot to Cave. He couldn't drive in a tack with a mallet. Horrified. This is really a song for piano, but can be played on guitar. "No. Nick, meanwhile, is getting a psychotic head of steam up. We knew the people wouldn't be in the houses and we used to eat their food, lie on their beds, and steal all sorts of stuff like letters, cutlery, clothes and money. Are You The One That I've Been Waiting For. Cave has even written a song about two ex-NME writers called Scum. Many of his recent songs have been a collapsing of both. But I find a lot of my work grotesque and tasteless in a lot of ways. Kid Congo, now with a moustache, diligently packs his guitars while Mick Harvey picks up the takings and the rest of the band flop out. I think trading my voice for Frank Sinatra's would be a pretty poor deal all round. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds Lyrics. The stars all winked at me. Ironically enough, Nick's first script for him, put together in LA several years back, was completely unfeasible and has now turned up as the basis of his novel, And the Ass Saw the Angel. Lazarus? His initial response to this was (a) I didn't have a girlfriend and (b) I'd made the story up. "No, I've only tried. As the Bad Seeds sow the cyclical rumble of City of Refuge, from the tentatively titled new album, Tender Prey, flagellated by the bullwhip guitars of Neubauten's Blixa Bargeld and Kid Congo (no Cramps solos here), I know Cave is a great. Again … I talked to you the other night about heroin. "I think my own view of things is quite irrational in a lot of ways; the way I see certain things, like the way an audience reacts, or the way people will interpret lyrics. I've tried to write about it many times but I've never felt able to do it justice because it sounds like some sort of fantasy or some Disneyland type of thing. (Mongers of pain) Abattoir Blues / The Lyre of Orpheus. But she made this tunnel through the briar. Now, apparently, he thinks I'm accusing him of killing young kids! "Evan English and his partners were video-makers called the Rich Kids who wanted to make their first feature film. Our response to the invitation was supposedly to tell the minion to "Fuck off!" Is that what you mean? One day she was caught by this guy who was in this religious-instruction teacher's house. Murder Ballads. The viewpoint of a wretch. Your Funeral My Trial Lyrics. We turn from the fantastic to the relatively mundane, the stylistic beggar's banquet to be heard on the upcoming album, Tender Prey. ", "You're so numb through your occupation that you can sit there and say that I'm responsible for the deaths of young children – or that your girlfriend told you that.". It's August 1988 and the Bad Seeds frontman and 'journalist's nightmare' is in ferocious, fighting form. I have to spend hours talking to fucking idiots like you who have no kind of notion about anything.". He misses. Lyrics to Your Funeral My Trial by Joe Bonamassa from the Live from the Royal Albert Hall album - including song video, artist biography, translations and more! 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