Chris Doud

Chris Doud

 Modesto, California, USA
BandAmericanaFolk

"Bob Dylan meets John Prine on the streets of Bakersfield where they hitch a ride in Merle Haggard's Caddie to go play some folk-country-americana over at the Crystal Palace with Kristopherson and VanZandt." -Deuce Carver, Heckabad Music




Biography

"his songs can make you suddenly and magically remember stories that have been inside you forever but you somehow forgot were there" -Kathleen Ennis, Propect Theatre

Chris Doud is a singer/songwriter, solo performer, an original 52-Week Club member, and co-frontman of successful band, The Good Luck Thrift Store Outfit. A self-styled musician, he is ideologically a folk singer in the storytelling, olde-country, version of the genre. Influences include Bob Dylan, John Prine, Johnny Cash, Townes VanZandt, Merle Haggard, and Kris Kristopherson. Weaving beautiful, guitar-driven musical compositions around well-crafted poetry, he reveals his musical influences while achieving a very fresh and original sound, that both soothes and inspires. Most of the songs center around recounting grand adventures, recalling the younger years and the glory days, and remarking on life's certainties as well as its unknowns.

Notes from the artist: "The latest solo effort (Story Song) is pretty much fully described by it's title. It's songs about stories. And the stories are about people I've known, places I've seen, and what little I've figured out about life in general. It's those few things I know, and the melodies that go along with them. There's loved-ones and lovers, lost souls and legends, family and friends, hearts and homes. Folk stories, foot-stompers, ballads, and a little Texas swing are scattered throughout, providing a good mix of sitting-in-your-easy-chair listening, dancing-your-sweetheart-around listening, and going-for-a-long-drive-in-the-country listening.

The writing on this album spans the last 9 years, with one or two songs that have actually appeared in other forms on previous albums but I always wanted to re-do, some songs that have just been kicking around in the ether of my mind for a number of years, and some very recent writings that I was just itching to get down on wax. Most of the songs on this album are product of the 52 Week Club, a club that encourages and inspires members to write a song-a-week for one year straight. Other tracks on this album just magically appeared, like the dust on that old pump organ I've been meaning to fix."

Lyrics

Story Song

Written By: Chris Doud

well ol' Jimmy Driftwood
he drove all the way north
to play my home town
in front of only two dozen or so
and this was way back when my mama was a dancer
and you asked a man to dinner
just by going over and knocking on his door
that's how ol' Jimmy Driftwood he ended up in our living room
and we heard the ones we wanted to
and some we never heard of before
and every damned word was an Iliad sure
and you could hear the Grand Ole
and the small town schools of northern Arkansas

sing me that story oh tell me that song
of corridos and thieves and men quick on the draw
about horses with green eyes that run from the law
how Creoles and pirates held New Orleans strong

my daddy played an old Mexican guitar
that he bought way down south of the border fifteen dollars brand new
and this was during the time that he doesn't talk about
when he thumbed it on south and then he thumbed it on back to New York
during the calm before the storm
during peace between the wars
between the river wide behind him and the love he found in Oklahoma

well he played that guitar till it cracked down the side
singin' everything Dylan and songs about downtrodden millionaires
yeah he strung up the strings all cat-gutted and played it clean
so I could hear it through the walls and it put me to sleep and it put me to dreamin'
and this was way back when Moms pointed out the stars to me
she showed me the Pleiades and she led me by the hand to the sea

oh sing me that story tell me that song
about specials at midnight, their light shining on
about fifteen hundred poor souls lost to the deep
about walking the line in the lowest of keys
and repeat it no matter how long it's been told
bring every listener in from the cold
whisper the pretty part and holler out the strong
sing me that story oh tell me that song

Sunrise

Written By: Chris Doud

you may be shivering in the loneliness
like the bones of the old
a million stars leading nowhere
just enough light to see your next footfall
and it's the most night of all the darkness
you're in the shadow of the cold
a hundred miles walk to anywhere
there's sand on the wind of the coyote call

but ooh that sunrise
oh that sun
this time stay a little long now
keep that moon on the run
oh that sunrise
ooh that sun
oh that sunrise
soon that sun gonna come

you may be treading in the endlessness
like the timbers of a hull
tall water breeding black
a wreck of down driving waves won't let you breathe
and it's the most storm of all the tempestness
has god forsook your soul
you're too far to head back
you hope you make it to the place where the sly cleaves to the sea

but ooh that sunrise
oh that sun
this time stay a little long now
keep that moon on the run
oh that sunrise
ooh that sun
oh that sunrise
soon that sun gonna come

Them Travelers

Written By: Chris Doud

them travelers say
there's a whole world to see
them travelers they
they got somewhere else they'd rather be
them vagabonds they got no one
to call their own
them travelers they got
no place to call home

there's a mountain across the valley
fortune over the sea
my god's across the heavens waiting for me
there's a clearing through the forest
water beyond all this sand
there's peace on the other side of all of these badlands

I been traveling
over all the crags and prairies
I been traveling
down the streets and up the stairways
foreign shores, boarded up doors
old walking shoes and brand new jets
but I ain't done traveling yet.

there's a mountain across the valley
fortune over the sea
my god's across the heavens waiting for me
there's a clearing through the forest
water beyond all this sand
there's peace on the other side of all of these badlands

Walk with Grandma

Written By: Chris Doud

well they brewed up their coffee just water in the pan
boiled them grounds from get up to settle down
and it filled up the whole house and leaked out onto the porch
well coffee was cheap, and cheap coffee was even cheaper
so grandpa always had some money left for doughnuts and lenguicia
and that's all the sustenance a man really needed to play a few rounds of horse
my grandfolks house was always hundreds of miles away
but we drove them long hours every winter holiday
to the annual gathering of the relatives, or the nicest bunch of people I didn't know too good
yeah there was aunts and uncles everywhere, about a score of cousins
and Nana still drove her Studebaker over with grandma's brother
and there was all kinds of old timers and new neighbors talkin' loud and comin' out of the woodwork
we got that big ol' mob together and it was usually harmonious
the kids didn't get underfoot and the grownups they didn't fret over us
and there was lots of discussions about sports and food and religion and that's it.
there was mischief to be made, whoppers to be told
and someone always suggested we put on some crazy talent show
but my favorite was when Grandma would say "get yer shoes all, we're goin' sightseein'"

let's go take a walk with Grandma
she's gonna show us the old neighborhood
that's where my mama flew from her bicycle
she tore her Sunday bests up pretty good
and that's where Grandpa liked to stroll along
holdin' the hand of the one he belonged to
he said "I love you, Cat"
and Grandma gets a little misty rememberin' all of that

well that neighborhood went up round 'bout '45
grandpa served up in Akaska so he came back alive
or else all us grandkids wouldn't be there running right out into the street
yeah they bought that home just after the war
and they boomed out eight kids and then they had two more
and they named them all after the gospels and the saints
and Every holiday we'd all play basketball
on the half-court slab they poured in the back yard
and scattered all around quite strategically were their names etched into the concrete
so there was Johnny's Corner, Matt's line, and Mark's sweet spot
and when those boys stood there, they'd never miss their shot
and Uncle Paul, well he owned everyone inside the paint
so the boys all whooped it up, or watched the television
while the girls watched the turkey cook and chatted in the kitchen
and this was way back when gender roles and stereotypes didn't bother people too much
we eventually said grace and proceeded to stuff ourselves good
resolutions, they'd make us right again soon
or we could try to work it off with a little walk around the neighborhood

let's go take a walk with Grandma
she's gonna show us the old neighborhood
that's where my mama flew from her bicycle
she tore her Sunday bests up pretty good
and that's where grandpa liked to stroll along
holdin' the hand of the one he belonged to
he said "I love you, Cat"
and Grandma gets a little misty rememberin' all of that

well all their grandkids grew up and had some great-grandkids,
sold that house in the east bay town of San Lorenzo,
and moved out to the valley, and grandpa stuck around for a few years
and we don't get together like that anymore
I guess there's too many people, nobody wants that chore
I guess it's too much worry figuring how many extra pans of stuffing to do.
but we had Grandma over to our new home this last time
and she's all youth in her laughter, just a kid in her eyes
and she loves them little babies, and we were pleased to provide her a couple two
and all the usual fare was set there on the table
and as usual we all put away more than we were able
and after all the talk I said "Grandma, let's take a little walk like we used to"

let's go take a walk with Grandma
we're gonna show her the new neighborhood
that's where my daughter first rode on her bicycle
she could take that corner really good
and that's where her mama and I once spent a little time,
talkin bout what was to come from the rest of our lives
I said "I wanna grow old with you, and know our own grandkids
and show 'em where where they come from just like my grandma did
when we would take a walk with Grandma
she would show us the old neighborhood
that's where my mama flew from her bicycle
she tore her Sunday bests up pretty good
and that's where grandpa liked to stroll along
holdin' the hand of the one he belonged to
he said "I love you, Cat"
and Grandma gets a little misty remembering all of that

Sand Paper

Written By: Chris Doud


I went down to the shore
I set there in the sand
paper in my fist
pen in my tightened hand
but there was nothin' in my clenched up head
worth writin' down
and nothin' ridin' in
on those big waves a-poundin'
with all that water
with all that pretty sky
there's still nothin' I can think of
'cept why why why
can't I tell you the reason
figure out the rhyme
guess there ain't no 'xplainin' space
there ain't no explainin' time.

I braced for the gale
I pierced my cold eyes
only wave and waves between us
like that far gold horizon
I won’t give up on you
if you don’t give in to them
it don’t matter when we’re on
our own space-time continuum
with all that water
with all that blue
makes you feel there’s something far more
than just the mes and yous
so listen to your heart
stop your worryin’ and your cryin’
put your trust in what is true
put your little hand in mine

Still Here

Written By: Chris Doud

well there ain't enough sorry
or enough regrettin' could you do
there ain't no amount of mendin'
gonna mend me and you
well I stayed up for nights
then I slept right by the phone
then I woke up to the worry
you weren't worryin' me at all
you were the wind, you were gone

but I'll be right here after all
after all of your wrongs
you're the restless one and I'm still
and I'm still here after all
yeah I'm still here after all

I swore I seen you in the kitchen
the lemons matched your dress
your brown hair was off your shoulders
brown eyes far beyond the window glass
I thought I heard you on the porch swing
hummin' along with the rusty chains
it was nothin' but the birds headin' out, the wind going south
the far off leavin' of smoke blown' trains

but I'll be right here after all
after all of your wrongs
you're the restless one and I'm still
I'm still here after all
yeah I'm still here after all
after all of your wrongs
you were the storm and I was the still
and I'm still here after all
I'm still here after all

Cabin

Written By: Chris Doud

well in my home town
ain’t nobody knows my name
well I guess I should’ve listened
when they said, "boy, don’t you go"
now the oiled down gravel roads
have all been paved
and the way up the mountain has been found out
and blocked by the rich man’s home

my home town
it ain’t lookin’ quite the same
the beards have grown all fallow
and turned to grey
and the dam at Greenhorn broke
and the water drained
it was a good walk through the thistle
to stand at the bottom of the lake
it was a good walk through the thistle
to stand at the bottom of the lake

and the cabin across the creek is gone boy
but there’s a field of toves and the borogoves
where it used to be
and the trail down to the river has washed away boy
but every stick you throw in the water
well it still gonna reach the sea
yeah every stick you throw in the water
well it still gonna reach the sea

well in my home town
I never used to keep this clean
the dust and the mud
used to get between my toes
and my hands were all black
from pushin’ on a tire swing
and the pitch up and down my sleeves
from trees as tall as the telephone poles

and the home my old folks built
is just up the way
but I don’t know who lives there
anymore
well if feels like I’ve been gone
for just one day
but it never feels quite right
to have to knock on your own front door
no it never feels quite right
to have to knock on your own front door

and now the cabin across the creek is gone boy
but there’s a field of little white flowers
where it used to be
and the trail down to the river has washed away boy
but every stick you throw in the water
well it still gonna reach the sea
yeah every stick you throw in the water
well it still gonna reach the sea

Discography

Story Song (2011)
The Ghost of Good Manners (2008)
52 Week Club Sampler (2006)
The Good Luck Thrift Store Outfit (2005)
Pirate Research (2004)
Slow Your Swing Hair (2001)