tim ellis

tim ellis



Tim Ellis

Born and raised in and around our nation's capital, Tim Ellis recieved his musical education at an early age from bleary-eyed high school neighbors who force-fed him healthy doses of Elvis, Beatles, Stones, Hendrix and Zeppelin. With these artists’ works stained in his musical vocabulary by the ripe age of five, Tim knew his calling as a singer/songwriter.

After college, new ghosts, living and dead, of another flavor, began haunting Tim. Miles, Ella, Billie, Prince, Stevie and Marvin spent endless nights spinning in his head telling tales in glowing voices. Like many others, he lists Dylan, by far, as his greatest influence. Tim’s lifelong search to crack the code these artists perfected is only now being documented, one show at a time, one recording at a time.

With over 150 songs in his catalogue, Tim has been sought, spotted and almost captured by the likes of Irving Aazoff, Lenny Waronker, and Mo Ostin. Narrowly escaping and settling in New York City (only to re-settle now in London), Tim’s been seen opening oysters in all of the usual haunts of Manhattan’s Lower East Side: CBGB, Arlene’s Grocery, The Continental, Mercury Lounge, The Bitter End, ect. Many of these shows, he performs with bass and drums accompanying, drawing comparisons, for better or worse, to Jeff Buckley. The comparison is only compounded by Tim’s soaring falsetto atop the dark pop songs beneath the tide.

But much interest and attention has been given to the solo acoustic shows where Tim’s voice and songwriting really stand out. Tm has begun traveling the country with his guitar and voice determined to realize the unique blend of all the elements, within the narrow confinements of one guitar/one voice/one mind.

The intimacy and warmth of these performances have garnered critical praise. With only a guitar and voice his shows don’t asked to be categorized but instead stand alone as powerful storytelling documents. Whether with one of his originals or many soul/jazz interpretations, Tim weaves a distinctive shape of these songs that want only to be told again and again.

Catch this urban troubadour at a dive near you.


Summertime on the Westside

Written By: Tim Ellis

When the sun sinks down and disappears behind the Hudson
We’ll make our way up to the rooftop, kick back and do us some relaxing
A little smoke, a bottle of wine, Miles in ’58’s just fine for summertime
No other space or time I’d rather be . . . listen baby

Summertime, summertime, summertime on the Westside
Summertime, summertime, summertime on the Westside

So let’s raise the blinds and feel the breeze,
blowing up the river our way
You can hear ‘em, late at night the Latino boys are
shuffling home from Club Broadway
So let’s raise the music in the room as the
Rhythm runs from me to you and you to me and from me to you
And from you to me and from me to you and …
No other space or time I’d rather be . . . listen baby

Summertime, summertime, summertime on the Westside
Summertime, summertime, summertime on the Westside


Written By: Tim Ellis

Tell me what you are

My girl’s a porn star she does things to me that I've never had done before
Ow! Not so hard, I'm just a little boy with a broken heart
My girl's a porn star, she resting now but she's waiting for
Another call, another dime, one day last week it was seven times

My girl’s a porn star, but deep down inside she's a movie star
A poet, actress, model, fascist, resume stained to a beat up mattress
I’m sure somewhere deep in my past
There’s some woman or man to blame … to me it’s all the same

Where’s the loving, where’s the touch
Where’s the connection, enough’s enough, darlin’
Where’s the loving, where’s the touch
Where’s the connection, enough’s enough

My girl’s a porn star she ain’t no good unless she goes too far
You might get lucky, you might get paid, but she saves all her kisses for a rainy day
And when the clouds turn black, the incensed sun, she feeds them kisses to me one by one

Like cigarettes on the movie set, I played a burned out pimp in a pink corvette
We did the do, I came on cue, but before we were through, even the crew knew
You shouldn’t have kissed me when the lights turned blue
You shouldn’t have whispered, “Timmy I love you”

My girl’s a porn star she ain’t no plane trying to be a car
My girl the porn star’s gotta a gaping wound and a ruby scar
My girl’s a porn star she’s got lotions-n-potions in little jars
My girl the porn star it’s what she is now tell me what you are

Tell me what you are

Some poor bastard was born to this world
And his mamma just gave him away … now ‘till his dying day

Where’s the loving, where’s the touch
Where’s the connection, enough is enough, darlin’
Where’s the loving, where’s the touch
Where’s the connection, that’s enough, cut!

What's the Point

Written By: Tim Ellis

Well I wondered out the bathroom, I wondered down the hall
I wondered if she'd ever let her fingers make that call
See I swore my love before the Lord and Lord did not I disappoint
I'd promise heaven to ya girl, but baby what's the point

Now there's just one kind of girl in this world you'll ever come to meet
She's either clawing at your throat or down there purring at your feet
Well the movie spins around again, again must be the hundreth time
Ooh, it always starts in bloodshed and always ends in crime

Ooh, you're out there on the ocean motion I'm lonesome on the shore
Always diving, diving, diving and for what, must be a bore
And every step I take to you is two back from the truth
And I could try to make you understand but baby what's the use

There's just one kind of man my man you'll ever come across
He's either hanging from a tree to see or hangin' from a cross
Well I've seen the tree for me and him and him with an ax to grind
And I'd cut for him the thickest limb, but who's got that kind'a time

Well I road into the Eastern gates side-saddled to an ass
Just as it was written, kitten, it'll surely come to pass
Well I came to stay at Turtle Bay you know I found my home a wreck
And a little voice inside my head said, son what did you expect

Now the rooms cold to the touch and you've given all you got
I don't ask for much these days and I don't get a lot
Just another song to send me on and on, a juke in one last joint
And I'd promise I'll be home tonight, but baby what's the point

Last Cigarette

Written By: Tim Ellis

Tell my mom I'm doing fine
Don't tell her the truth, no, she's got enough there on her mind
I won't be home for Labor Day
I'll be burning man to die and be born again some way
Been coming 'round a brand new start
Gonna learn to relish my grief and stop pickling my heart
Well I may be right I may be wrong
I may be neither like a cheetah, just killing to feed her own
And maybe you'll return to me,
We'll both admit we're wrong and sit around and watch TV
And maybe we'll look back with no regrets, yeah right,
And maybe the sun won't set
And mabye this is my last cigarette

Ooh the last one

I kissed the presidents daughter in a Texas bar once
She swore me not to tell a soul and you can believe me when I say I won't
She said maybe daddy will forgive and forget, yeah right,
And maybe your pants aren't wet
And maybe this is my last cigarette

I stand before the firing squad
Watch me
Refuse a blindfold and make 'em look into the eyes of God
They say they'll grant one last request but all i wants one more kiss from you my pet,
and one more cigarette

Yeah, I bought God a guiness down at 'ol Paddy McGee's,
I told 'em, I'd believe in you if, if you'd just believe in me
He laughed and took a long cool sip, placed five bucks upon the bar and said 'I always leave a decent tip'
We'll be together don't you fret, no, just finish up and don't forget,
This is your last cigarette
Oooh the last one
Baby the last one
The last one
Ooh baby the

Heart Just Isn't In It

Written By: Tim Ellis

Looking back you could of walked that extra mile, but your heart just wasn't in it
You stood me up to see a movie with a friend, you know your heart just wasn't in it
I took a pill and I slowly closed my eyes, you see my heart just wasn't in it anymore

And I thought I saw you chasing down your dream, you know your heart sure seemed in it
Had you alone but you had to take that call, you know your heart just isn't in it and I'd like to think that we'll make it out alive, but our hearts just weren't in it anymore...

Ooh these sins that you're living they won't be forgiven when the life that you're given is crime
Scripted opinions, relentless revisions your imagines polluting my mind, yeah
I'm gonna buy a gun and shoot out my tv,
you know my heart just wasn't in it and tell me, where you there when they crucified my Lord,
you know our hearts weren't really in it and I pulled into Vegas and I drove right thru that town,
you see my heart just wasn't in it
no no
heart just isn't in it anymore
It took some years but you finally moved back home
Rolled out the tanks and we kissed our wives goodbye
I picked up the papers, got as far as the front door
Ooh but my heart just wasn't in it
oh no no
heart just wasn't in it anymore

I Wanna Kiss Your Face

Written By: Tim Ellis

Ooh baby, don't it feel so fine
It might be tomorrow or til the end of time
I could be your lover,
and baby learn not to pretend
Yeah, the big bang might be banging
or this could be the end

Oh but either way I've got to say it,
I wanna kiss your face

Baby, lets take a good look around
We could paint a picture
or we could paint the town
Oh but I love the way you lay there with nothing on your mind
Baby maybe slip into each other
and see what we can find

Oh but either way I've got to say it,
I wanna kiss your face

That's just the way that it goes
You've got all the boys a'wonderin'
you know you do girl,
but I'm the one who knows
Now dig it baby
I've been meditating on your ways pretty mama and,
I wanna kiss your face
I wanna kiss your face
your lips your eyes your neck your nose, and theres a place where theres forgiveness, you make it feel so close
i wanna kiss your face
i wanna kiss your face


Two singles released: Summertime on the Westside
and Pornstar

Set List

Summertime on the Westside
Last Cigarette
I Wanna Kiss your Face
What's the Point
Breaking Out
Only You
Hanging On,
However, Tim has a catalogue of over 150 original songs.

Typically, a set lasts for about half an hour.

Covers consist of Bob Dylan, The Stones, Bob Marley,
Jeff Buckley, Billie Holiday, Elvis, Al Green