In a Broken Dream

David Bentley  

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  Every day I spend my time drinking wine
  Making rhyme/ waiting here to find a sign that my heart can understand

  In the days between the hours/ivory towers/ bloody flowers
  push their heads into the air/ do I care where the wind may blow/ just let it go

  don’t push your luck too far/your wounds might leave a scar
  right now is where you are/in a broken dream
  did someone bow their head? did someone break the bread?
  good people are in bed before nine o’clock

  on the pad before my eyes/ paper cries/ telling lies
  such promises we made when we played in a broken dream

  and the feelings linger on/neither silent nor quite gone
  and nothing's gonna change change /while you remain in a broken dream

  LINER NOTES
  I wrote this song in 1969. I'd travelled to London with the Python Lee Jackson band in that year. The band had enjoyed success in Sydney through 1967-1968 and we thought we'd tackle the London scene. It was a bleak winter when we arrived. To make ends meet, I took a job as a sub-editor on a Fleet Street magazine group. Python Lee Jackson's guitarist Mick Liber, meanwhile, had secured a contract with CBS. He phoned me to say he needed a hit song in a hurry because the recording session was just two nights away. That afternoon I dashed off some lines on the typewriter while waiting for my girlfriend to turn up for an after work drink. These lines became the lyrics for In A Broken Dream. The rest of the band wanted me to sing my song but, at the time, I didn't feel that I was the right man for the task. The band's manager recruited Rod Stewart in my place – and five years later the song became a hit. Python Lee Jackson's version was propelled by Mick Liber's white hot guitar. My version has no guitar at all … but I arranged the brass parts and I do all of the singing.

  David Bentley: piano, organ, vocals
  Andrew Shaw: bass
  Kerry Jacobson: drums
  John Hoffman: flugelhorn, trumpet
  Greg Aitken: trombone, tuba

1

Black and White

David Bentley  

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  Sister Salvation shaking on a tambourine beatin’ time with the big bass drum
  Stoned congregation singing low in harmony snapping’ out the rhythm with their thumbs
  Yonder stands the master of the ceremony gospel shouting’ proud and strong
  Creole fingers and an ivory grin snakin’ across the keyboard with his song

  Chorus:

  Picking through the black and white
  Like a wolf hound in a starry night
  So careful not to miss a cue
  Happy just to play the blues for you

  He was a high priest of rhythm a reverend of soul
  Wore a shiny diamond in his smile
  Didn’t pay to mess with MrJelly Roll when the stakes got high and wild
  Hustled in Chicago called some shots in New York too
  And how the young girls loved to hear him sing
  Yearned to go back home to New Orleans
  Liive like some southern boogie king

  chorus:
  They never got religion down at the Jungle Inn beatin' time with vermouth and gin
  Jelly Roll kept preaching’ tip they traded in his grin for one last street parade to end his rambling
  I wish that I had known that old piano man in St Louis flats and Stetson brim
  And rode a street car through New Orleans, played piano just like him

  LINER NOTES
  The story of Ferdinand “Jelly Roll” Morton, self-proclaimed inventor of jazz, has always intrigued me. Born in New Orleans to a well-to-do Frenchman and a Creole woman, Jelly Roll parlayed his classical tuition into a highly sophisticated form of bordello music. He supplemented his income as a pianist by hustling at pool tables and the occasional foray into pimping. His piano playing was marvellous, his compositions inspired. St Louis flats, mentioned in the song, were shoes favoured by the New Orleans demi-monde. Jelly was also known to sport a Stetson hat, likewise mentioned. Jelly's career came to an abrupt halt when a drunk shot him dead at The Jungle Inn in Washington. The undertaker removed the diamond he wore in one of his front teeth as payment for funeral arrangements. For no particular reason, I set this song in a revival hall in Jazz Heaven (wherever that may be).

  David Bentley: piano, organ, vocals
  Andrew Shaw: bass
  Kerry Jacobson: drums
  John Hoffman: flugelhorn, trumpet
  Greg Aitken: trombone, tuba

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You'll Know When You Get There

David Bentley/Greville Patterson  

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  The strange effects of Tantric sex can open heaven’s door
  You could become enlightened within your own boudoir
  Sensual feats between the sheets could liberate your mind
  Transport you to higher place where there is no space or time
  It might take a 1000 nights or maybe no time at all
  There’s no telling where or when or how the dice might fall
  You could be bound for Nazareth or on the sea of Galilee
  Or making tracks for Mecca on your hands and knees

  But you’ll know when you get there yes you’ll know
  You’ll know when you get there and you’ll know just what to do
  You'll know when you get there, know when you get there
  Know when you get there when you get then then you’ll know

  Sufi on a bed of nails tuned into the zone
  Guru in his lofty cave meditating all alone
  Whirling dervish in a spin, dizzy with devotion
  Ascending to a higher plane with a smooth and flowing motion

  When you least expect it that’s when you’ll get the call
  Might be in another life or in the shopping mall
  You could be dancing in a mansion or sippin’ herbal tea
  Hanging in Havana, a senorita on your knee

  LINER NOTES
  Through the 60s and 70s, when some of us hoped that there might be more to life than birth and death interspersed with tedium, a gaggle of financially-motivated and self-serving gurus beckoned from silken pavilions. For the purposes of this song, I put myself in their shoes. I was surprised how easy it was to talk plausible nonsense.

  David Bentley: vocals, piano, organ, synthesisers
  Kerry Jacobson: drums
  Greg Lyon: electric bass

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Mother Nature's Child

David Bentley  

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  Mother Nature spoiled the child
  That ran so free and grew so wild
  She let his seed blow in the wind
  Gifts of splendour did she bring
  Crystal water, silver wing
  She fashioned clothes of shining silk
  Kissed his mouth with mother’s milk
  See the ragged urchin run
  See his shadow on the sun
  By that golden smile beguiled
  Mother nature spoiled the child

  Like a top that spins too slow
  In random circles does he go
  Losing balance not yet still
  Destruction rules his feeble will
  Matchstick castles does he build
  He throws his fist into the night
  The planets quake before his spite
  Hear the wounded creature squeal
  He wears a bloodstain on his heel
  By that twisted smile defiled
  Mother nature spoiled the child.

  LINER NOTES
  This song first appeared on my top secret 1980s cassette, Capsizes And Writings. Despite its catchy title, I don't think many people heard that album...and so I have recorded a new version. The message remains current ie humanity is destroying the planet. Presumably perpetrators of crimes against nature figure they'll be dead before Armageddon occurs.

  String and brass arrangements: David Bentley
  David Bentley: vocals, piano, electric piano
  Andrew Shaw: bass
  Kerry Jacobson: drums
  Eugenie Costello-Shaw: violin
  Danielle Bentley: cello

4

Spring Will Come

David Bentley  

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  Spring could be a little late this year
  Might take some time for the rain to clear
  Change is due but who knows when
  Spring will come again

  Autumn was a bleak affair
  Made the pale yellow moon disappear
  Winter’s wounds are slow to mend
  Yet spring will come again

  Down to the wire
  In the embers burns the fire
  New dreams will rise up
  Maybe then…
  Spring will come again

  Summer sailed on a fickle wind
  Paused a while til love found wings
  Stormy my heart
  Still I contend…
  Spring will come again

  LINER NOTES
  Andrew Shaw who plays bass on this track thought the lyrics to this song were bitter sweet yet optimistic. Really, I should ask him to write the liner notes. It was a hard song to write. I was thinking LA commercial but, after a while, the song took on its own momentum. In the end, it turned out better than I'd hoped.

  David Bentley: vocals, piano, synthesiser
  Andrew Shaw: bass
  Kerry Jacobson: drums
  Benjamin Greaves: violin
  Camille Barry: violin
  Tony Bernal: viola
  Danielle Bentley: cello

5

The Shadow

David Bentley/Greville Patterson  

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  Close in the shutters/ seal them up tight
  Bring down the curtain/ hold back the night
  Black dog is barking/ raven’s in flight
  Can’t shake the shadow tonight

  Like Cagney, like Bogart, like Citizen Kane
  Colour me sombre, colour me rain
  The moon is my witness and try as I might
  Can’t shake the shadow tonight

  All my dreams were played in black and white
  No brown or beige to blur the line
  Into the light there falls the shadow
  It kills me every time

  Late is the hour/ hungry the kiss
  If memory serves we did better than this
  Blow out the candle/ hang up the phone
  The piano is silent/ nobody’s home
  The shadow is waiting to lock up the hall
  Now there’s no colour at all

  LINER NOTES
  I'm not exactly sure what this song is saying. I think it's about depression. It wrote itself, really – assisted by Greville Patterson who contributed not only the hook, but also some of the more powerful lines. Either way, it's one of the more memorable anthems to emerge from our songwriting collaboration. Read into it what you will.

  String and brass arrangements: David Bentley
  David Bentley: vocals, keyboards
  Andrew Shaw: bass
  Kerry Jacobson: drums
  Benjamin Greaves: violin
  Camille Barry: violin
  Tony Bernal: viola
  Danielle Bentley: cello

6

Alimony

David Bentley  

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  Alimony is on your mind
  Alimony is on your mind
  You’re the reason
  I’m working overtime
  'Cos alimony’s on your mind

  Empty days and lonely nights
  Lost my cool, my appetite
  My pitter has no patter
  My shoes have lost their shine
  ‘Cos alimony’s on your mind

  Once you were my Valentine
  You were my honey and my wine
  Said you’d love me
  until the end of time
  Now alimony’s on your mind

  LINER NOTES
  Never having been divorced (thus far, at least), this song qualifies as a work of pure imagination – though, having observed many of my friends endure the emotional and fiscal pain of separation, I believe I know enough to compose a song on the topic. I feel slightly guilty about recycling such distressing subject matter into swinging jazz but, hey, life goes on ...

  David Bentley piano, organ, vocals
  Andrew Shaw bass
  Kerry Jacobson drums

7

Are You Missing Me Yet?

David Bentley/Greville Patterson  

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  Does he hold you just to hold you, just to be there
  Be there just to show how much he cares
  Does he thank his lucky stars for the moonlight in your eyes
  Feel the wind blow cold when you’re not there
  Will he keep you and protect you
  Stand beside you, come what may
  Live for every moment like I did
  Does he trace your every step
  Is he spellbound and obsessed
  In the meantime, in between time
  Are you missing me yet?

  I’ve thought the whole thing through
  And learned a thing or two
  ‘Bout love that hides in solitude
  North has lost its true
  The sky is never blue
  Everywhere I look
  I still see you

  Does he know you like I know you
  Can he show you
  A love so pure it feels just like a prayer
  Does he listen to you heart
  Can he make the music start
  You might as well confess
  Are you missing me yet?

  Does he want you like I want you
  Does he need you
  Hunger for your touch the way I did
  When the storm clouds roll on through
  Will he still be there for you
  I’ll be damned or I’ll be blessed
  Are you missing me yet

  LINER NOTES:
  I am indebted to my daughter Danielle for the title of this song. She had moved out and I was feeling a sense of fatherly dismay. As it turned out, her new abode was a few doors down the street and she continued to turn up at breakfast. One morning she said: “Are you missing me yet?” It was a funny line. With the help of my songwriting collaborator Greville Patterson, I have managed to transmogrify her light hearted remark into a dark power ballad that exhibits absolutely no humour at all. And, yes, that's Danielle on cello.

  David Bentley: vocals, piano, electric piano
  Andrew Shaw: bass
  Kerry Jacobson: drums
  Benjamin Greaves: violin
  Camille Barry: violin
  Tony Bernal: viola
  Danielle Bentley: cello

8

Well Under Way

David Bentley/Greville Patterson  

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  A lady of means seeks travelling companion
  Someone to attend to her every need
  Not just to manage appointments and details
  But someone to amuse her at the end of the day

  Qualifications ideally include
  A taste for adventure, fine wine and good food
  Happy to ramble, well spoken, well read
  With a talent for exploring the evening bed

  Given such high expectations
  Assuming the right resume
  Allowing for slight imperfections
  We could be well under way

  Sooner or later we’ll cross the equator
  And land on some far distant shore
  In Monaco or Venice we’ll swim and play tennis
  We won’t have to worry our minds any more

  Steamer is booked for August 11
  The day that she shucks off those black widow’s weeds
  Her heart is a dancer too long in the shadow
  Of a beast of a man unwilling to please

  Generous terms and flexible hours
  Breakfast in bed and freshly cut flowers
  There’s an ache in her heart and she needs no reminding
  That love is the greatest pain killer of all

  Given such high expectations
  Assuming the right resume
  Allowing for slight imperfections
  We could be well under way

  LINER NOTES
  Here's a tale of loneliness and liberation as glimpsed through an advertisement in the personal columns. The time frame is somewhere around the 1930s and the lady of means is probably in her mid-40s. I envisage her as the widow of a crude and curmudgeonly fellow who suffered from body odour and kept his teeth in a jar.

  David Bentley: vocals, piano
  Andrew Shaw: bass
  Kerry Jacobson: drums
  Benjamin Greaves: violin
  Camille Barry: violin
  Tony Bernal: viola
  Danielle Bentley: cello

9

Pleasure Zone

David Bentley  

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  If I were feeling even slightly better
  I do believe I might explode
  You set my neuro chemical pathways humming
  A little symphony of wild hormones
  My motor’s running hot
  Baby, baby thanks a lot
  That’s my message from the pleasure zone

  When we step out you make a fashion statement
  It’s so cool when you’re au naturel
  You send my biological rhythms racing
  Well I guess you know I’m under your spell
  Sweet babe you hit the spot
  Love that stuff you’ve got
  That’s my message from the pleasure zone

  Communique from the pleasure zone
  Hip hip hooray for the pheremones
  Postpone that meeting
  Hold the phone
  All systems go - I’m in overload

  Should we be stranded on a desert island
  I’d be happy in our solitude
  You set my psychological circuits pumping
  Ever since you made your big debut
  Let me bring you up to speed.
  You’re everything I need
  That’s my message from the Pleasure Zone

  LINER NOTES
  When I worked a a journalist, there sat opposite me a reporter who, if asked how he was feeling, declared himself “bright as a little ball of backflips”. It was hard to imagine anyone feeling brighter than that … and I was inspired to invent extravagant metaphors for well-being as the basis for a song. References to the biological changes that impact on the male pleasure centre in the presence of an admired female somehow crept into the mix. The finished song is, dare I say it, bright as a little ball of backflips.

  David Bentley: vocals, piano, organ
  Andrew Shaw: bass
  Kerry Jacobson: drums

10

Trouble

David Bentley  

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  Here comes trouble
  Steppin' down the street
  Painted lips, sexy hips
  She’s looking good enough to eat
  I really should know better
  Temptation tastes so sweet
  Here comes trouble
  I’m in trouble deep

  There’s disorder on the border
  Mayhem to the south
  When she smiles she dimples
  At the corners of her mouth
  It’s not my disposition
  To be bold or indiscreet
  I guess I must like trouble
  I’m in trouble deep

  Here comes trouble
  Feel her body heat
  Believe me, Lyall
  It's my chosen style
  To look before I leap
  Alarm bells are ringing
  From my head down to my feet
  Can’t stay away from trouble
  I’m in trouble deep

  There’s slaughter in the quarter
  Sensation in the square
  Always up to mischief
  Commotion everywhere
  I don’t take my pleasure
  With just any girl I meet
  I guess I must like trouble
  I’m in trouble deep

  Here comes trouble
  The world is upside down
  Weird things start to happen
  Any time she comes around
  I don’t engage in idle talk
  Or sell myself too cheap
  I guess I must like trouble
  I’m in trouble deep

  Consternation in the nation
  Rumour at the mill
  Is it all consuming passion
  Or a momentary thrill?
  Danger signs are flashing
  My heart just skipped a beat
  Uh oh here comes trouble
  I’m in trouble deep

  There’s disorder on the border
  Mayhem to the south
  When she smiles, she dimples
  At the corners of her mouth
  It’s not my disposition
  To be bold or indiscreet
  I guess I must like trouble
  I’m in trouble deep

  LINER NOTES
  Here's a little Nawlins' street song to close the set. I call it a 'Nawlins street song even though, so far as I know, no New Orleans street musicians have actually heard, much less played this tune. It would be marvellous if Trouble were to join Tipitina and Big Chief on the Crescent City's roster of all-time hits. It does feature a second line drum beat … so it’s in there with a chance. Meanwhile, I'd just be glad if you could just tap your foot on the off beat every so often. Thank you.

  David Bentley: vocals, piano, organ, synthesiser bass
  Mark Kennedy: drums

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