Rough Edges

I haven't wrote in a little while, a lot of things have been adding up lately.  And I'm in a down mood today (fight with the wife over reasons that were trivial) and have been zoned out mentally because of that.  I'm at work and and listening to music on my iPad, and one of my favourite songs comes on (I'm also a little drunk because I'm in Calgary and it's the last day of the Calgary Stampede......being drunk at work is more common than you might think given the circumstances).  This was the first song I learned to play on the guitar with any level of seriousness.  I'm guessing it's a giveaway at this point that it's a FJE song.

I had mentioned in the beginning post of this blog that Rodeo Boy was the first song that drew me into FJE, but the first song that made me fall in love with the music that he produces was Rough Edges.  It was back when Napster was a thing that existed, and I had found a copy of Rough Edges from the "From the Paradise Motel" album.  I loved the intro with the subtle jokes that half the audience got.  When I listen to that version of the song now, his voice sounds a little more tender, a little more desperate.  The song doesn't feel as polished as it could be but that makes it seem a little more fitting.  Sitting at my cubicle (whilst half cut from screwdrivers and the liquid lunch), the tone of the song is what talks to me right now.  I'm drawn into the feeling of hopelessness he's describing.  Just wanting to go where the "whisky has colour, and the cows feed on grass" before being drawn back into reality where the "blankets are dirty".  At least I know that "an east wind always means rain", and I'm hoping that in this case, rain is a good thing and fresh chances in life always coming along.


Rough Edges

Cracks in your windshield.
Holes in you life.
And you're trying to get home,
Before it gets light.
And that old 5 tonne truck,
Don't run good no more.
Barely gets up those hills,
With your foot to the floor.
And your horses are tired,
And your excuses are weak,
And you ain't won a race,
Since '73.
But on through the night,
That trailer just sways.
An east wind you know,
Always brings rain.

And out on the freeway,
Those big wheels just roll.
Out past your time,
And through your front door.
Lights on the skyline.
Signs on the road.
You don't pick up your mail.
You don't answer your door.
And your old friends are dead,
And gone away.
Wild flowers cry,
Over their graves.
And the paper they throw,
At the end of the lane,
An east wind it says,
Always brings rain.

Down by the river,
Where the old boys still ride,
And the edges are rough,
As suicide.
Where the whisky's got colour,
And the cows feed on grass.
The windmills pump water.
And your cheques don't go bad.
And your blankets are dirty,
And your eternity frayed.
And on through the night
That trailer just sways.
So load up those cattle,
And move out that train.
An east wind you know,
Always brings rain.

Cracks in your windshield.
Holes in you life.
And you're trying to get home,
Before it gets light.

Chords - The progression at the start and end of each verse is G, F, C, D, with two measures of G, Em, C, D in between.