Satori Bob

Satori Bob

 Eugene, Oregon, USA

Satori Bob conveys a vibrant energy in diverse settings, bringing audiences into the performance with compelling lyrics, uncanny improvisational interplay and strong arrangements.Their appeal has the ability to cross many boundaries with songs ranging from gentle acoustic pieces to driving Alt-Americana rhythms.


Welcome Promoters and Booking Agents.  Satori Bob is a polished and professional 6-piece Alt-Americana band with many years of gigging experience.  We can work in any room and on any stage, including festivals, house concerts, club shows, theater venues, and special events.  We can be a featured act or open for more high-profile bands.

We are classified by radio folks as Americana, but we have a unique voice that blends energetic bluegrass styles and gypsy-ish tones, open stark ballads and gorgeous instrumental interplay, all serving as the foundation for well-written strongly lyrical compositions. Audiences LISTEN to us, and dance to us.  Satori Bob sounds familiar, and yet has a strong voice that's all its own.


John Baumann

Satori Bob is:

John Baumann - Vocals and Guitars

Della Natasha - Violin and Vocals

Keenan Dorn - Guitars and Vocals

Devin Newman - Banjo

Noah Kamrat - Basses

Beau Eastlund - Drums and Percussion


Ode To Fargo

Written By: John Baumann

Ode To Fargo (or) Living In The Midwest Pt. 2
Lyrics and Music by John Baumann

The river is floodin
The sky is slate grey
Tomorrow’s already possessed by today

with an endless horizon
a mind turns on itself
on your grandfather’s picture
on the the china dog shelf

A pickup on a 2 lane
with a full load of hay
drives under the railroad bridge where we used to play

smokin’ cornsilk cigarettes
under the stars
we dreamed of faraway places and expensive sports cars

The water she’s rising the fences are gone
that old virgin mary’s swimming on the front lawn
we’re all treading water
looking for some dry land
climbing out of the fire
back in the old frying pan

There’s a Spring pancake breakfast
at the Catholic Church
they bless your Easter food basket for whatever that’s worth

Among the guns and religion
TV and booze
if you ain’t got no options it’s easy to choose

In the local newspaper
right there on page 2
are the obituaries of the people we knew

We drink on the front porch
we wave at the cars
we talk of familiar places under the stars

Beats Me

Written By: John Baumann

I am holding you in a dream
where the unreal meets the real
where the water meets the desert and the sky
I was crawling from the wreckage
getting out from behind the wheel
with an understanding of the look in your eye

Now the curtains on the window are thrown open
and the bartender looks at the empty chair
and the terror of the deep
is interfering with my sleep
and the raven makes a nest out of my hair

In a minute in an hour
in the flash before the flood
I could meet you in Wyoming come the fall
I could break these empty promises
leave ‘em lying in the mud
I could buy a telephone in case you call

On a lonely country road
where the lonely breezes blow
Will you take my hand under the winter moon
Will you cast away the demons
at the cemetery door
Will you listen when I sing a lonely tune

I am underneath a burden
a few thousand miles away
I might hop a train and
show up at your door
We could count the water lilies
share a glass of wine
and dream a little dream a little more

Universal Soul

Written By: John Baumann

Universal Soul

Take the Gin Taconic Parkway down past Whiskey Boulevard
Or ride a draft horse with no saddle I’ll be waiting in the yard
Quit yer whining we can’t lose – we got us an ace in the hole
Raise a toast to the Universal Soul

She had olive oil eyes lightly tinged with utter sadness
She was incarnated joy afflicted with a kind of madness
That makes you hopeful and afraid – makes you come in from the cold
Rest awhile in the Universal Soul

He bought a yellow El Dorado and pointed it toward Vegas
But he broke down out in Bakersfield with the truckers and the beggars
Now he can’t recall his name – his motivations or his goals
And he signed on to the Universal Soul

It’s a special kinda hell born of utter discontent
Cause no matter what you say nobody knows what you meant
Now you’re picking up the bones – you’re giving ‘em one more roll
How about a seven for the Universal Soul

Well my old man’s in Daytona playing bocce by the sea
He remembers Henry Miller but he don’t remember me
He was personal friends, y’see – with old Nat King Cole
And they’re jamming in the Universal Soul

I can easily be rendered to a state of utter silence
It’s the only sane response to a world that filled with violence
I am riding yesterday – I am going with the flow
Down the drain of the Universal Soul
Down the drain of the Universal Soul

Dead Men's Clothes

Written By: John Baumann

I’ve got the shirt of my father
I’m wearing the shoes of my brother
Don’t matter if noone else knows
I’m wearing Dead Mens Clothes

That pictures on the wall from my mother
those blankets came from my ex-lover
my friends jackets still hanging in the corner
he was a friend like no other

You know my sister she really liked flowers
she could work in her garden for hours
She pressed a bunch into a plastic curtain
when she died I hung it by the shower

I’ve got the shirt of my father
I’m wearing the shoes of my brother
Don’t matter if noone else knows
I’m wearing Dead Mens Clothes

That old car belonged to my grandfather
it burns oil and it tends to run hotter
its what he drove when he met my grandmother
he always said it was the Chevy that caught her

My cousin once gave me a sweater
you know I wear no matter the weather
some days it makes the memories sweeter
they brush against me with the touch of a feather

I’ve got the shirt of my father
I’m wearing the shoes of my brother
Don’t matter if
noone else knows
I’m wearing Dead Mens Clothes

There are songs I play without thinking
late at night when I’m playing and drinking
they call up people who are no longer with us
it’s like they’re singing and I’m just lip syncing

I sing a song and there’s my father
I hear a harmony and that’s my brother
I see my cousin walking with my sister
and right behind ‘em are all the others

I’ve got the shirt of my father
I’m wearing the shoes of my brother
Don’t matter if
noone else knows
I’m wearing Dead Mens Clothes

He Pointed At My Hat

Written By: John Baumann

He pointed at my hat
It said CIA
He said you're taking real chances being dressed that way
Why I once knew a guy who wore one of those
And he walked outside a bank and wouldn't you know
A robber ran out and thought he was a cop and shot him point blank my friend never woke up

He said I was a federal officer for 23 years and he shifted his stance and sipped his beer
He said your flirting with danger take off that damn hat he lifted his shirt and said look at that
And his stomach was purple and curdled cream
With a healed over hole where his navel should be

He said I’m Leroy you can call me Lee
This is my wife she’s here with me
I like your music you got a good voice
I said the hat was a random choice
He said it just don’t attract the right kinda folks
you just don’t wanna face what that hat evokes

His wife was Samantha, she called herself Sam
she was blonde and a bit uncomfortable just then
she said who cares about hats lets have a good time
she hugged her man tight slid her hand down his spine
and ever so slowly took a long sip of wine
and took his hand in hers and set her eyes on mine

The last I saw Leroy he was deep in a crowd
watching loud blues music Sam wasn’t around
I thought about the meaning of the words he said
and the statements I was making with that hat on my head
You can say anything you want in the USA
but you know there’s repercussions from the things you say

Rainwater Farm

Written By: John Baumann

We touch the way old lovers touch
And maybe it's a bit too much
Like fine cuisine and wine for lunch
But damn it sure tastes good

The goats and cats and children grow
And roosters crow in stereo
And people come and people go
And life moves as it should

And something happens now and then
A breaking heart a life that ends
But life goes on and hearts can mend
Leaving nothing but a scar

Embedded deep within my soul
Are stories better left untold
Perhaps when we are very old
We won't be far apart

like flowers blooming in the snow
just what we’ll find we’ll never know
I’m pretty sure that things that grow
grow anywhere they please

And sometimes when you walk on by
I stop the urge to cry out to you
don’t even need to question why
I just drop down to my knees

The years flow by the time goes past
the moments speed by ever faster
nothing dies and nothing lasts
the wild’s never really tamed

We'll touch the way old lovers do
and find we're making something new
You look at me, I look at you
And listen to the rain
And listen to the rain
And listen to the rain

Dance of the World

Written By: John Baumann

With my arm
Round your waist
in the evening

You go whirling
And twirling

Your eyes
Never leave me

You dance
into my arms
And then out

I am desperate
to reach further
inside you

to lay claim
to my deepest desires

you just laugh
As you whirl
Round a lamppost

Dance for you
For the world
And for I

your face turns
And your hair
Falls in ringlets

I’m pulled down into the depths of your eyes

I dive deep with no air to sustain me

I give all to be part of your life

In your silence
There is no

more questions than answers it seems

there no depth to the world that’s around us

no waking us up from this dream

There is one word
For snow
In most places

There are more words
When you feel pain

There are sweet words
Spoken soft
Between lovers

We have no need for words
When we pray

When we pray
For the wars
To be over

When we pray
For return
Of the light

When we dance
once again
with abandon

When we
Whirl together
Into the night

I look for you
in the streets
of the city

Deep in the Village
for clues of the past

We used to meet
by St. Christophers Statue

There’s the hotel where
we used to crash

I am wrecked
on the rocks
of your island

My ship scattered
and tattered
and torn

the old places have all been demolished

There’s the hospital where they say I was born

There is love
in the touch of your hand
in the food that you made me
in desire unfurled
and your grace
pulls me into the circle
draws me into the dance
the Dance of the World


CD "Strangely Familiar"

EP "Dead Men's Clothes"

Set List

Set 1

Black Hills

Boys And Me Are Coming Back   

Cold Water Morning

Buick Roadmaster

Rainwater Farm

Walk in the Yard

I Can't See My Enemy 

In the Beginning

Drunk On The Moon

Dance Of The World

Bonneville Damn

Living In The Midwest

Johnson Unit Talkin’ Blues


Set 2


Give my Regards

Never Be Alone

Bird Song

My Chances Are Drifting

I Haven't Suffered Enough


He Pointed At My Hat

Universal Soul

The Mayors Of Old Delphi Falls

Best Thing I Never Had

Beats Me 

You Say That You're Happy

Dead Men’s Clothes