Pamela Richardson

Pamela Richardson

 Chicago, Illinois, USA

“A genuine air of originality, thanks to Richardson’s beautiful alto vocals, ear for harmony and innovative arrangements.” -


Singer songwriter Pamela Richardson presents love songs in a resonant voice, expressing a fluid range. Her CD Song of the Day Café, featuring her band The Pralines, blends rich slices of Americana with a decidedly 60s flavor. Song of the Day Café is available from, Spade Kitty Records ( and CDBaby (

SAINTE-FORTUNAT is HERE! Anticipated solo CD, recorded in Austin and produced by Freddie Steady Krc (Roky Erickson/Explosives). Released on SteadyBoy Records April 2008.



Written By: Pamela Richardson

Where are you rising, I have no idea
I hope the sun’s shining for you
Take a soft moment and think of me here
‘Cause I promise I’m thinking of you
How you run through my thoughts like the leaves down the river
How the flame in my heart burns high while I shiver
And the tears that we share fall as sweet as spring rain
Oh to hold you and love you again

Where are you walking, I have no idea
I hope your road’s steady and smooth
Same old routine as I pass the time here
And I wish I were walking with you
How I tremble with fear at my journey alone
Will I ever surmise what I need to be home
But the beauty I feel for you eases the pain
And I can’t wait to see you again

Where are you sleeping, I have no idea
Whether five-star or under the moon
I’ll be your sunset, sweet dreams to you, dear
‘Cause you know I’ll be dreaming of you
How you course through my veins like a mellow fine wine
With a passion to match all the fire that is mine
Play the chords of my history, love’s longing refrain
Oh, when will I see you again

Ballad of a Corsair

Written By: Pamela Richardson

Running hairpins like I fell out of bed and learned to drive Le Mans before walking
I place an order and I get what I wanted, now the line forms here to serve me
Best you scatter and spread the warning when you see my flag in the harbor
No idle rumor, I confess my scruples have been known to wander when I sing

The name Manouche precedes me
Sweet melodies as I help myself
And if you see through me, don’t give me away

Autumn found me on the Mediterranean, ashore with a near-empty bottle
Heart full o’ honey for the love I’m missing, and I drink to our anniversary
I carved his name on the sole of my boot, and his kiss I committed to memory
Put on a smile as I conduct some business, now the line forms here to speak to me

The name Manouche precedes me
Telling fortunes as I help myself
And if you see through me, don’t give me away

Thief I may be, a dodgy life I lead, but I’ve a hand to lend to the misfits
Take the bureaucrats, I take them to task, and then I take them for every cent they’re worth
Though I’ve got my greed, there’s only so much I need, and I give the rest to the children
See them grinning at that chink in my armor, and I run from the cover that’s dissolved

The name Manouche precedes me
Give to the poor, and still I help myself
Just mind your own pockets and don’t give me away

Nothing But the Truth

Written By: Pamela Richardson

That’s my house high on the hill
Twenty miles from St-Tropez
I have known it all my life
Though I’ve never known the day, oh
That I walked inside with work shoes on
armed with paint and lavender
And put my hands to beams to make her hum

Young man stands inside the door
Smiles, I think he knows my face
He’s in my house, he sings my song
How I envy him his place, oh
And the just rewards of sleeping
with no knowledge of the pain I feel
Awakening to nothing but the truth

This is more than déjà vu
This is more than just a dream
I have been here once before
Or my time is yet to be, oh
They say home is where the heart is
but my heart divides and runs astray
Like the butterflies that pass through St-Tropez

It’s the light in our soul from which we benefit
Benefit, benefit
And the love that we give is the best of it
So bring it to the fore

Young man stands outside the door
Sings a song, the words are mine
I turn and look again, he’s gone
Ghost from another tide and time, it’s not mine yet
But I’ll know it when I live it
Then the world will see me at my best
Awakening to nothing but the truth
Awakening to nothing but the truth
That’s my house high on the hill

The Blue Hour of Twilight

Written By: Pamela Richardson

In the blue hour of twilight
where the river turns to sea
In the blue hour of twilight
you’ll come sailing home to me

How I fretted your departure, voicing womanly concerns
From the seasoned waters fogging to icebergs at every turn
I’d heard stories of the black ice that can weigh a vessel down
“Just a prank from old St. Lawrence”
– you dismissed it with a frown
Countless kisses when we parted
Took the silver comb from my hair
An embrace, then your suggestion of a ritual to share
You said, “Every night at midnight, to the Northern Star we’ll turn
Shining brave, our precious diamond
She’ll assure my safe return”

Now I know it’s been a long time
Past your usual time by far
But our hearts are tied with love knots
And we share the Northern Star
I believe if you weren’t coming back that somehow I would know
But clouds have blocked the Northern Star
And trees are veiled with snow
Thought I saw you in Rimouski, where I overheard a tale
Of the Empress of Ireland
Lost to fog and gale
The night was much like this one
The skies awash with stars
Burning brightly, burning helpless, like fireflies in a jar
I don’t listen to their stories
You’re just late, I say again
But clouds still block the Northern Star, and the only sound is rain

In the blue hour of twilight
where the river turns to sea
In the blue hour of twilight
you’ll come sailing home to me

What Happens in the Village

Written By: Pamela Richardson

Oh, what was that, knocked me flat
Left me in the dust, staring after his pinstripes
Pedigree, come back to me
For a one-night stand that stands alone
He knows I know him, saw his name somewhere
He’s surprised and relieved that I just don’t care
His secret is safe, like cashmere under thrift-store corduroy
It’s just another day and night in Plan de la Tour

I’m weary of the played-out drama
and a heart that keeps on beating through trauma
Wave goodbye as the shadows cross the landscape
And sigh over the grocerwoman’s namesake
Jack he was, and Jack he’ll be
Eldest son of Jacqueline
And if I were younger, I’d ask him to write a song for me
Let’s drink to that roundabout to Plan de la Tour

Glance at my watch, club scene’s fading
Like the wasted pedigree who nibbled at my fingers
Jack stands alone, eyes ablue
He either lost the race or ran out of gas
So I say come with me, now, your mates are all looking
You look a little thin, and I’m a pretty good cook
Show me that heart of gold under your thrift-store corduroy
And we’ll break the silence over Plan de la Tour
We broke the silence over Plan de la Tour
It’s just another day and night in Plan de la Tour

Paris and My Own Life Passing

Written By: Pamela Richardson

That early morning / Sheets of rain like a reverie

without a warning / But I don’t know from suddenly

Like two hearts in tune, the tune eludes me

But I don’t mind at all, I’ll bide my time till the conclusion

In the itinerary to still be wanting

All the ghosts of my desires / I’m on fire with their pleasant haunting

If ever I should fall from this perfection
I’ll know I had it all for awhile

A girl is sighing, writing / Tears and rain fill her open book

In her secondhand English / she throws her question like a baited hook

Why is it men move on, while women cry awhile
It’s the forgotten flame that won’t die / No matter how we try

Footstomp reminder / Cheap champagne at the cabaret

Floodlight and moonbeams that the singer’s shadow fingers play

The mass affection was all his before the curtain was drawn
Loving arms rush ‘round the island like the Seine before the dawn
Comes the dawn

Medieval cobblestones have a laugh behind my back

I cast a longing eye as I wish and hope for all I lack

I’ve never had it all mine for the asking
It’s only Paris and my own life passing by
Just like the stars along the Seine

All My Traditions

Written By: Pamela Richardson

Lost in the shuffle
Was it too much of its day
Willingness to bring it in
The glow of sweet December
All my traditions
Fingerprints on frosty panes
Ghostly snow and mistletoe
And a need to remember

Long after Santa and his reindeer were no more to me
than jewelry brought out for festive sweaters
All my traditions take me back to crystal memories
And the sweetest smile of 1967

Faces in the fog I breathe
Masks hung in the air
Loved ones just a call away
Others somewhat farther
All my traditions
Poems written on a dare
Skates and hopes for record lows
And grab bag gifts to barter

Sparring partners settle scores
Kids volunteer for household chores
Christmas time of goodwill intervention
All my traditions
Take me back to kindness in the round
And the sweetest smile of 1967

(inst. verse)

Downtown nativity
Songs of peace not lost on me
All my traditions lead to heaven
To friends you never have to ask
To hearts alive and unabashed
And the sweetest smile of 1967

(C) 2005 Pamela Richardson


Spaghetti Midwestern (2003) - solo EP, indie release
Song of the Day Cafe / The Pralines (2005) - Spade Kitty Records
Sainte-Fortunat (2008) - solo, SteadyBoy Records

Set List

Set lists vary depending on the show, how many other bands are playing, etc. I can play anything from a half-hour set to a full hour. I'm available as a solo or duet with my guitarist, Ric Salazar, or full-band, with my group The Pralines: