Guarded Optomism: ‘Song- ‘Do Nothing till I hear from You’

 Ok, so what do you do when you learn that the woman who supposedly ‘belongs‘ to you (to the extent that the possessive pronoun ever had any meaning) is poised to fly off to far-away Wisconsin?
To ‘take care of some affairs’, in her words.?
Obviously, you steam open a letter from the evil ‘ex’… wishing you hadn’t?
Yes, he’s dying to swap spit with ‘your girl’.
You pretend innocence.
Try to talk her out of it : ( “Planes crash daily; you didn’t hear?’)
In the end, song-writing , as I’m trying to prove here, saves the day (?)
‘Milwaukee’, fortuitously, rhymes with ‘walkie-talkie’ ‘So there’s that…’, you whistle in the dark.
And you remember all the good times, before you were cursed to meet this slut. …
The sweating gospel true-believer choir members: ‘Bethel A.M.E’, ‘Ray’s Temple,’ ‘Brightside Baptist Church’. They may have mistaken my artistic exuberance as a belief in the ‘Walks on Water!’ Guy, but who careth? In the end, even Dylan said ‘Ya gotta believe in somebody’)

And as a musician from birth, I was always in awe of their ‘sing like a bird’ natural power. No one cared that their average BMI was marginally off-scale.
(Anyone ever read a review which led off with ‘Though fat, Arethra Franklin none-the-less does a yoeman’s job on ‘RESPECT’.
Anyway, this song is my sad-sack best-effort to recreate the experience of having 40 maroon-gowned, corpulent backup singers.
I recorded 5 (five) 4-man chorus tracks and mixed ’em together, with reverb. Two of them purposely drunken. Hey, whatever it takes.
So yeah : ‘Do Nothing till I hear from you’. That was my policy, while I waited out the anguish.
She did, tearfully, at the airport ,confess that she’d miss me. Yeah sure, there with your pajamas down to the ankles….
When she returned, I studiously avoided any request for details; instead choosing to quickly overwhelm any errant genetic foreign matter with a flood of my own proven Einsteinian stock.
And as usual, at least a song emerged from the horror.
Which is the real point, decades later, of this soul-wracking episode.


Verse One:

Ain’t gonna ride into the sunset
Ain’t gonna fall in love with nobody
Ain’t gonna sell the house
Ain’t gonna move the mouse
I’m gonna:
..Do nothing till I hear from you (sing it!)
Do nothing till I hear from you (that’s right!)
Do nothing till I hear from you
Do nothing till I hear from you

Verse two:

I been standing at the Station
I read the writing on the wall
Somebody try to start a conversation
He ain’t talkin’ to nobody at all.
We ain’t got no problem we cain’t talk about
How come you don’t answer the phone?
I been walking in; you been walkin’ out
Oh, baby, I’m all alone

Do nothing till I hear from you
Do nothing till I hear from you
Do nothing till I hear from you
Do nothing till I hear from you

Ain’t gonna dye my hair
Ain’t gonna change my shirt
I’m gonna stand right here
And try to not to hurt myself
I’ll cry if I wanna
all the way to Milwaukee
I’ll cry if I wanna
And watch my walkie-talkie

-Instrumental…to pass the time..-

Do nothing till I hear from you
Do nothing till I hear from you


10 thoughts on “Guarded Optomism: ‘Song- ‘Do Nothing till I hear from You’

    1. promisesunshine

      Thank heavens for 2nd and 3rd reads and listens. There’s a charm in your rendition of the sordid tale that I didn’t see yesterday. Plus the tune is catchy. The drunken maroon chorus adding a little something something.
      Apologies for my lackluster comment of yesterday. I’d take it back, if I could.

      1. solberg73 Post author

        No worry, nor need to apologize.
        I’m thinking to change course from this fictional ‘break-up artist’ fellow and post some ‘feel-good’ tunes more reflective of my own real general spirit.

  1. eleanorio

    I listened for all the advertised content and was not disappointed, although your maroon-gowned gospel choir needs a bit more meat on its bones. A few more tracks, maybe? Well done.

  2. somewittyhandle

    Edmund Burke counseled against this song’s message; easy for him to say: his wife of 40 years never once dabbled with the Jockey from Milwaukee. Who knows what evil prevails under those maroon cassocks?

    Once again, I see what you did with your trademark double-negative:
    “He ain’t talkin’ to nobody at all.” i.e. “There is somebody up there to witness this fiasco”.

    And taking the moral ambiguity to a new level with the triple:
    “We ain’t got no problem we cain’t talk about.”
    Hence, the walkie talkie.

    Quips aside, this one has a strong motive force behind it, musically. I enjoy!

    1. solberg73 Post author

      Thanks, Duncan. Increasingly, I make no conjectures ’till I hear from you.
      Were I back in my home town, I could have asked for, and gotten, an afternoon impromtu recording session with the ‘real thing’, The ladies. There’s something sublimely un-reproducible about their fervor and timbre. Might have needed to make a scratch version where the ‘you’ in the chorus was a holy ‘You’. Ars gratia, whatever it takes.
      More, once I figger why I’m so compoundedly negative. Ebonics?

  3. Roadkill Spatula

    I’ve had some very interesting conversations in bus stations, one with the guy who wrote all the Beatles songs, singing as he washed dishes, but had them stolen by the cop next door who recorded him and disseminated the tapes. The other was a gentleman in a suit who was on his way to a conference in Kansas regarding control of the geographic center of the continental USA.

    One part of your song reminds me of my drive from Berlin to Paris in the summer of 1983. As I was waiting in line to exit the East, a VoPo asked me something in German. I answered, with my usual brilliance, “What?” He said, “Do you haf guns? Woggy-toggy?”

    1. solberg73 Post author

      I love it! Yes, concentrating on a specific issue in the presence of faux Napoleons..
      I’ve been told (probably facetiously) that there’s a dedicated wing in the conveniently-located psych hospital nearby for them what are convinced of being the reincarnation of Jesus.
      They are willing to reveal the secret frequencies; generous of them.
      I picked up a hitch-hiker once in Texas; he discussed his travel plans: to studiously go through, in alphabetical order, all the towns on a Travellodge brochure, in order to find ‘a new wife’. I was in Abilene at the time, bought him a sandwich, and left him off at the junction to Biloxi.


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