Mozart's Money


Mozart's Money CD Cover

Prime-CD, 1996


Mozart's Money (1996)

This album was engineered & produced by David Seitz.  It was our big production effort with a cast of thousands....

Lucy Kaplansky
Lucy Kaplansky
Michael Visceglia, bass
Michael Visceglia

Denny McDermott
Denny McDermott, drums
Mark Dann
Mark Dann, guitars

"Mozart's Money" – 3:15
"Raphael" – 3:48
"Waiting for the Good Humor Man" – 2:28
"This Mountain" – 3:44
"Talking Island" – 2:05
"Mr. Rain" – 3:22
"Main Street Sky" – 3:54
"What If You Do Nothing"
– 2:46
Winter Suite"
  "Sweet October" – 1:18
  "Sparrowhawk" – 4:11
  "Blizzard" – 4:28
  "Friends of a Traveler" – 4:20
  "The Visit" – 2:00
"When Hiroshima Comes To Disneyland" (Hidden Track) – 2:48

Mozart’s Money

Whatever happened to Mozart’s money?
Where the hell did it go?
They say he spent it all on wine and women
But even so—
I know a guy who wrote a song for Garth Brooks
And now he’s got it made for life
But Mozart never really made a lot of money,
And that’s what I tell my wife.

I’d like to know what happened to Poe’s
Investment portfolio.
Maybe he walled it up in that crypt
With his good friend Fortunato
I know a guy who knows Stephen King
Who’ll be a sheik in the afterlife
But Mr. Poe never made much dough
And that’s what I tell my wife

I accost her with tales of Stephen Foster
And the visionary William Blake
I say “Honey, you can’t count the money
That a genius doesn’t make.”

But Wallace Stevens lived in Hartford,
a big insurance man
William Carlos Williams was a pediatrician
And Eliot worked in a bank.
Time will tell if they were poets as well
Or if they’re just big books on the shelf
But most of my heroes never made a lot of money
And that’s what I keep telling myself

What ever happened to Mozart’s money— and what about van Gogh?
I tell you there’s more than blood that’s red in the books of Edgar Allen Poe
Imagination in large denominations is something you can never earn
But the poor damned souls who made Mozart’s money, still got money to burn
Yeah, the poor damned souls who made Mozart’s money,
      they still got money to burn


In the cool hour of the evening
The garden gold and breathing
My lover at my hand
Two virgins in the land
and angels on the wing
descending as they sing,
    "Raphael, oh Raphael"

O how it made you warm
To see my lover's form
Who'd think a human touch
Could make an angel blush
and you'd leave grudgingly
as if you envied me,

You’d linger just to talk
For hours as we'd walk
Your feet burned on the hills
you never had your fill
Was it you who brought us fire
On your wings of desire,

And when the earth grew cold
the vision would not hold
heaven closed its doors
we never see you anymore
and our voices fill the air
like a table or a chair,

But I swear there's still an ember
of paradise remembered
a certain shade of blue
the nakedness we knew
and I wonder if you keep
the feel of grass beneath your feet
and when you seraphim embrace
now, does the blood rise in your face

Oh, Raphael, Raphael.

Waiting for the Good Humor Man

I am waiting for the Good Humor Man
to come driving his white truck down my street again
and the neighborhood kids doing skids on their bicycles
   over and over again
      We were all out of school, just trying to be cool
      catch a ride to the Y and go pee in the pool
I am waiting for the good humor man,
waiting for the good humor man.

I am waiting for the good humor man
with his rock and roll haircut and his lazy girlfriend
selling rockets on a stick for a pocket full of change
   as if nothing had changed
      And at night on the tube
      they would walk on the moon
      and nobody cared how much money we blew
waiting for the good humor man,
waiting for the good humor man.

    Oh now....  Alright.....
    They’d sing yeah yeah yeah...

I am waiting for the good humor man
in the dog days of summer when the cellar teams win
and some go off to war
and the rest burn down the store
  and the dream grows dim....
     But he's ringing his bell
     and the kitchen doors slam
     and the kids all turn out with their quarters in their hands
waiting for the good humor man
waiting for the good humor man,

    I am waiting
    Oh I am waiting for the good humor man.

This Mountain

This is not an age of faith
This is not an age of miracles
We don’t believe anything they say
We don’t believe anything at all
But when December grabs you by the throat
Better look for something burning deep inside your coat

From the top of this mountain
I can see Canaan
The blue of the vineyard
And the gold of the grain
Right across that river
Candles flicker
If I didn’t know better
I’d call it a dream

The walls of Jericho
And the walls of Jerusalem
Came tumbling down long ago
And they never got built again
Will you stand in the rubble where the rocks and bullets whine
Will you stand in the garden, reach your hand across the line


In the eyeless streets of Gaza,
In the shadow of the Golan Heights
In the fortress of Masada,
Through centuries of night
One light was always burning
Even when the fuel was gone
One light was always burning
   —and the light burns on…


Talking Island

She is the sugar of the islands
She is the coffee in the hills
She is the harvest of the vineyard
She is the river where it spills

Into the canyon
She is the ocean where it swells
She is the flashing on the water
She is the roaring in the shells

That says I know you
Though I am ancient deaf and blind
I am a simple act of kindness
In a world that is unkind

And unforgiving
Like the storm that grinds the stones
And at night among the shadows
Conducts the bleaching of the bones

And sucks the marrow
And leaves them staring from the ground
And the feeling the feeling that you’re hollow
Is just the trumpet before it sounds

O you Islands....

Mr. Rain

I could never see your face
To see if you were really crying
Your hair hung down like rain
I would have sworn that you were lying.
One long scream ran through every refrain
You were riding four white horses, they were driving you insane
But we were riding shotgun when you blew out your brain
    You never reached it, did you,
    Mr Rain

The needle drives the city
And the city drives the sound
Orphans always follow
The music underground
Everyone who cut you down while you were raising Cain
Who bought your outcast mutterings then flushed you down the drain
All who love and curse you now, we love and curse in vain
    You never reached it, did you,
    Mr Rain

    Mr Rain, Mr Rain
    Mr Rain, Mr Rain
    You never reached it, did you, Mr Rain

Every spring kill the king
Every spring kill the king
Every spring kill the king

    Mr Rain, Mr Rain
    Mr Rain, Mr Rain
    Mr Rain....
    Oh you never reached it, did you?
    Oh you never reached it, did you?
    No, you never reached it, did you?

Main Street Sky

I was good at tending bar
They called me Our Lady of O’Reilly’s
I could talk to men in trouble
and I know the difference between poison and truth
But I crashed my car last March
And the back was full of empty quarts of vodka
So I walk to work at midnight,
at the donut town down on Main St.

Chorus:    And the big trucks roll by
    They shake the ground like thunder
    But there’s nothing flashing under
     The Main Street sky

I won’t wear the damn uniform they gave us
When you’re my size, you don’t wear orange
Well I may not be your beauty,
but I swear I will not be your clown
And Ginny will not fire me
I’m the only one who’s here on time
So we have this little understanding
that we just don’t get along


I put a pot on for the truckers
and I put one on for myself
and from 2 am till 5,
I can just park it and read
And I’m going back to school
I don’t care if it’s a load of crap
cause my future thinks he’s sitting at the counter
with his “Hey, darlin’” and a feedcap


Sweet October

Sweet October, everything comes down
And the ghosts outside are rattling the storms
And the drunkards think they’re sober
and the lovers think they’re drowning
And the songs of spring are bitter wings to them

A touch of snow, a sudden end to evenings
Dark falls on the daylight like a crow
Sweet October and the mountain roads are empty now
And I’m coming home

Sweet October, everything comes down


The hawk and the sparrow flew up together
Though the sparrow was small and the hawk on a tether
Wingtip wingtip, feather to feather
All in the fall with winter coming on
All in the fall with winter coming on

He was dark as a blanket of snow
She was bright as the lightning's shadow
He shook yes, she nodded no
All in the fall with winter coming on
All in the fall with winter coming on

The leaves fell down and the wind blew stiff
They had their tumble and they had their tiff
And they both sang a love song that started with "If..."
All in the fall with winter coming on
All in the fall with winter coming on

It was breasts and hands and flanks and thighs
Everyone around had to shield their eyes
And we called in the cops at the sound of their cries
All in the fall with winter coming on
All in the fall with winter coming on

And the sun and the moon hung there in the sky
Till no one could tell day from night
And the harvest piled up higher than high
All in the fall with winter coming on
All in the fall with winter coming on


There's a winter storm with my name on it 
And it's cutting up the coast 
On the radar there's a ghost   
Clear to the Carolinas

It feels like years since December
And it seems like more till spring
I swear I’ll bear up under anything
That this one can dump on me

Chorus:    It's a white rage  
    It's a blank page  
    - Blizzard
    It's the mind of winter,
    One last drunken   
    - Blizzard

I’ve got candles on the counter
Water in the tub
Survival skills I know, but
Living I can't understand

The wind howls all night long
And the big plows thunder in the street
You can hear the snow turn to sleet
There goes the mailbox again


  And the flames sing in the dark  
  Some stupid love song bout a broken heart

I'd just as soon be holed up for days
Dig out in my own time
Lean on my shovel, squint in the sunshine
Shout to the neighbors, make sure they remember me!

And I know you’re not coming back
I can’t say I blame you for that
Just so long you can stand
Living with a snowman


Friends of a Traveler
    (for Diane)

One way or another the friends of a traveler are bound to travel
So my old friend Janet said, she dropped me off in Flatbush
    and drove on to Seattle
Ten years ago Stevie O. said: "Look me up if you're ever
    anywhere near Santa Clara"
I was in San Francisco once, but his roommate said he'd gone
    to Houston

Chorus:    Some of them go east
    Some of them go west
    And the ones you see the least
    Are the ones you love the best
    And when a trip out to the mailbox
    Seems as far as you can go
    There'll be an old friend coming down the road

Andy sends me postcards from every tavern with a dartboard
    between Madison and Dublin
And Diane's been from Equador to Krakow, singing like
    an ambassador from heaven
Jimmy Matthews says that if he dies today, they're gonna be having
    a hot time in hell tonight
Say hello to him for me, whoever's on the next flight out to Rome


It makes sense I met my wife on a connecting flight out of
    Charlotte, North Carolina
And I've called home collect from all those rest stops named for poets
   in the middle of the night
And tonight I'm home from Boston, and Andrea's in Boston
    helping Karen move to New Orleans again
Oh the friends of a traveler are bound to be traveling in the end


What If You Do Nothing
(Words & Music by Hugh Blumenfeld & Andrea Gaines)

What if you do nothing with your life
Run no races, strive no strife
Just live on a farm have one dear wife
One good dog and that is that

What if you launch into space on a rocket ship
And fall back to earth on a stardust ride
All you get is a tickertape parade
Better to spend the day in the shade

What if you rise up to fame on the silver screen
And find yourself starring in all the girls’ dreams
All you get is a little bronze man
Better to make just one loyal fan

Running the plow all day
the horses paw the hay
Apples up your sleeve
who says that you’ve got to leave

What if you do nothing with your life
Run no races, strive no strife
Just live on a farm have one dear wife
One good dog and that is that
One good dog and that is that

The Visit

Well I never go to visit my mother
Like my father and my brother do
I can’t stand the constant traffic
On Belmont Avenue
And the pious old men in their coats and beards
Who appear as if on cue
For a small donation
They’ll say the mourner’s prayer for you

Some might say I’ve got a heart of stone
But I think if that were true
I’d get along better
With the dead than I do

(when hiroshima comes to disneyland)

    by hugh blumenfeld  (title by mark dann*)

well the kids will all get crayons to trace their shadows on the walls
 & colored paper cranes inscribed with names   
there’ll be cranes, cranes flying overhead on wires
on the banners from the parking lots on in
& there’ll be origami lessons on demand
when hiroshima comes to disneyland

& at 8:15 fthe gates will open for the fireball & the omnimax
you can watch oppie translate sanskrit & einstein playing violin
& the twenty-five mangled maidens
will all be made beautiful again
kabuki players whiter than a thousand suns will fold their fans
 when hiroshima comes to disneyland

& every night at sunset poli-sci majors trying to work off student loans
will stage re-enactments of vj day in period clothes—
watch out ladies - the sailors will go around kissing all the women in the street
& they’’ll praise the lives we saved  so we could go to vietnam
when hiroshima comes to disneyland
            c’mon    wave to hirohito
                  wave to the fish-bellied samurai
        (hai hai hai)  -    goodbye, goodbye

 I’m gonna get myself a little boy action doll before I head back to my hotel
enola gay glider kits for the kids & some fused los alamos glass
& when the fireworks finale comes
they’ll say — just look away, jack
& we’ll shield our eyes with our transparent hands   
when hiroshima comes to disneyland   

we’ll shield our eyes,   with our transparent hands
when hiroshima comes ......  to disneyland

  1995 Hugh Blumenfeld

* Dave and I recorded this album on a 16-track tape machine using 2" wide tape running at 30" per second. To save money (and time) we recorded multiple takes of each song next to each other on the same bit of tape ("bit" being 30" x about 200 seconds or 500 ft.!). So, with the volume turned up on all the tracks, three or four performances, sometimes in different keys and at slightly different speeds, could be playing at the same time. Mark came in one day to lay down some guitar tracks, and, hearing the cacaphony, said matter-of-factly: "Sounds like when Hiroshima comes to Disneyland." It was like being hit by lightning. I ran into the next room and wrote the entire song around this line in about 5 minutes as a letter to Andrew Calhoun. We recorded it a few days later, complete with aluminum pans and power drill, and since the artwork for the album was already done, we added it as a hidden track.

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