When Did You Leave Heaven?

That you left heaven

At all is a big surprise.

Kiss me, you angel.

"When Did You Leave Heaven?" is a song by Richard Whiting and Walter Bullock that appeared in the 1936 movie "Sing, Baby, Sing." It became something of a standard, and was nominated for an Academy Award. (Whiting, incidentally, wrote the standards "Hooray for Hollywood" -- which you can hear at the end of Robert Altman's movie "The Long Goodbye" -- as well as "Ain't We Got Fun?" and "On the Good Ship Lollipop." You can find versions of this song by Big Bill Broonzy, Nancy Wilson, Louis Armstrong, Jimmy Scott and others.

When did you leave heaven?

How could they let you go?

How's every thing in heaven?

I'd like to know.

Why did you trade heaven?

For all these earthly things?

Where on earth did you hide your halo?

Where did you lose your wings?

Have they missed you?

Can you get back in?

If I kiss you would it be a sin?

I am only human

but you are so divine.

When did you leave heaven

angel mine?

Tweeter and the Monkey Man

Cop chases dealers.
His sister loves one of them.
Welcome to Jersey.

This is the most ambitious of the songs on the first Traveling Wilburys album, from 1988, mainly because it’s a pure Dylan original. It’s one of those guys-on-the-lam stories involving some of the shadier and weirder members of the blue-collar professions, and perhaps in another universe could have belonged to Tom Waits or Barry Adamson. It also owes a bit to Bruce Springsteen (Highway 99, Thunder Road, the New Jersey setting, etc), who I imagine could have done this Nebraska-style if he wanted to.

Characters:
Tweeter
Monkey Man
Undercover cop
Jan, his sister
Bill
State trooper

The plot, in brief:
- Tweeter and the Monkey man are selling cocaine and has because they need money.
- They're selling it to an undercover cop, whose sister Jan for unexplained reasons loves the Monkey Man.
- Tweeter was a boy scout, then a Vietnam vet. Life's been cold to him. 
- Tweeter and Monkey steal a car and take Highway 99 across the Jersey line (Bruce!)
- The cop hates the Monkey Man and wants to put him away. 
- Jan married a racketeer named Bill at 14 and called the Monkey Man secretly from her hilltop mansion.
- Tweeter and the Monkey Man are on Thunder Road (Bruce!) and they run in to the undercover cop, who demands that they surrender.
- Ambulance and a state trooper arrive. Tweeter relieves him of his gun and "messes up his mind." 
- They tie the undercover cop to a tree near an abandoned factory and a souvenir stand.
- The cop is pissed off, and now it's personal. He remembers Jan telling him, though, "It was you to me who taught
In Jersey anything's legal as long as you don't get caught."
- Tweeter and the Monkey Man run out of gas near Rahway Prison.
- Jan, at home, has a telepathic urge. She tells Bill, "'There's someplace I gotta go'. She took a gun out of the drawer and said, 'It's best if you don't know.'"
- The cop turns up dead, face down in a field. The police are closing in on Tweeter and the Monkey Man meanwhile. Monkey's on the bridge, using Tweeter as a shield.
- Presumably, they go down shooting.
- Jersey City's quieting down again. Bob's sitting there in a bar called the Lion's Den, thinking it's time to beat it for Florida.

Silvio

Power and pleasure
Are tempered by pain and loss.
Take them as they come.

Everything about "Silvio" gives me a rash. I don't know why this one doesn't work for me, but along with "The Ugliest Girl in the World," it lowers the quality of the already shaky album "Down in the Groove." Released in 1988, the song became a big fan favorite, in no small part, I suspect, because of the inclusion of members of the Grateful Dead on backup vocals. I see that the song has been included on at least two best-of Bob Dylan albums, but I consider this a cynical move by someone somewhere to continue to associate Dylan as much as possible with the Dead, one of music's most enduring gravy trains. I'm not saying that this song, which Dylan wrote with Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter, is a bad song. I, for instance, could not do it better myself. It has a nice groove and chugs along nicely, but I just can't stand those doo-doo-doo Dead backup vocals. I also find the lyrics muddy in meaning, particularly this pot-fueled back-porch joint-rolling existentialism which you hear from time to time in Dead land. In fact, the entire presentation smacks of the kind of laid-back stoner rock that aging hippies and suburbanite Deadheads found mystical and significant. They are wrong.

The smoke-rings of their minds:
- Stake future on a hell of a past. Tomorrow could be the last day. I'm not complaining about what I have. Everybody's seen better times, so who am I to whine?
- FYI Silvio: you can't buy back your joie de vivre with silver and gold. Meanwhile, "I gotta go, find out something only dead men know."
- Don't throw me any bones. I'm just an old weevil looking for a home. And as the old Irish drinking song goes, "If you don't like it, you can leave me alone."
- I can summon rain and make it go away with the snap of my fingers. I can make you feel good too. I even can charm the whistle of a train.
- I give and take as much as I want. I want you, but when you want to leave, nobody will stop you.
- "I can tell you fancy, I can tell you plain, You give something up for everything you gain. Since every pleasure's got an edge of pain, Pay for your ticket and don't complain." The philosophical spice of life for college freshmen with doo-rags, dime-bags and orientation name-tags.
- I'm going to the valley and I will sing my song. I'll let the echo decide if it sucks or not.

Shenandoah

Wandering trader
Falls for an Indian girl.
Then he wanders off.

Bob Dylan's version of this old song appeared on the 1988 album "Down in the Groove." I think that the song has been unjustly maligned. It's a lovely, minimal precursor to the kind of modern roots country and Americana music that NPR listeners favor, and Dylan adds to that kind of wooden groove the sound of his backup singers, who give the whole song a nice push. The song apparently comes from the early 19th century, and sing about the Indian chief Shenandoah, or Oskanondonha, as well as his beautiful daughter, whom a trader in a canoe wants to marry. The song has since evolved into a sea shanty as well, says Wikipedia. 

Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you
Look away, you rollin' river
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you
Look away. We're bound away
Across the wide Missouri

Now the Missouri is a mighty river
Look away, you rollin' river.
Indians camp along her border
Look away. We're bound away
Across the wide Missouri

Well a white man loved an Indian maiden
Look away, you rollin' river
With notions his canoe was laden
Look away, we're bound away
Across the wide Missouri

Oh Shenandoah, I love your daughter
Look away, you rollin' river
It was for her I'd cross the water.
Look away, we're bound away
Across the wide Missouri

For seven long years I courted Sally
Look away, you rollin' river
Seven more years I longed to have her
Look away, we're bound away
Across the wide Missouri

Well, it's fare-thee-well, my dear,
I'm bound to leave you
Look away you rollin' river
Shenandoah, I will not deceive you
Look away, we're bound away
Across the wide Missouri

Sally Sue Brown

Sally's dangerous.
She's too hot for all you guys.
Let me handle her.

"Sally Sue Brown" appeared on the 1988 album "Down in the Groove." It's a fun, old-style rocker, though it doesn't exactly pulse with life, but then again, not everything on this critically and commercially unsuccessful album does. Here's the rundown on Brown:

- She's back in town, so boys, run for cover or else you will be a broken-hearted lover.
- She looks hot in her tight skirt and with her big bright eyes, but watch out, she tells lies.
- I don't care what she's been up to, I'm "goin' south" and doing it all again. I'd prefer to have my heart broken than pass up a chance to get with Sally Sue Brown.
- I'm going to be a fool for that girl and lay at her bed like a dog.

The song was written by Arthur Alexander and two other people, but I know nothing about it.

Rank Strangers to Me

Man goes home again.
Everyone he knows has gone.
The rest are strangers.

Drawing on the spirit of Thomas Wolfe and his novel "You Can't Go Home Again," consciously or not, Albert Brumley wrote this song about finding out what happens when you return to your home town and discover that you don't know anybody anymore. The song surely carries more weight and dimension than such a diary entry, but that's what the lyrics concern themselves with. I'm assuming that Bob Dylan, who recorded this song for the 1988 album "Down in the Groove" as its closer heard it from Ralph Stanley and the Clinch Mountain Boys, though I don't know if that's true. Though Brumley was from Oklahoma, this song about the mountains plays right into the Piedmont and Shenandoah home turf of Stanley and Wolfe.

Ninety Miles an Hour (Down a Dead-End Street)

They're with others, but
Hook up after a party.
They go past first base.

This is about a crash of the heart, not a literal crash. I think the lyrics, pasted below, are clear. I included Hank Snow's version as well as Dylan's, which appeared on "Down in the Groove" in 1988. Snow's version is sad, but peppy. Dylan's is just sad.

I took you home from a party and we kissed in fun
A few stolen kisses and no harm was done
Instead of stopping when we could we went right on
Till suddenly we found that the brakes were gone.

You belong to someone else, and I do too
It's just crazy bein' here with you
As a bad motorcycle with the devil in the seat
Going ninety miles an hour down a dead end street
Ninety miles an hour down a dead end street.

I didn't want to want you, but now I have no choice
It's too late to listen to that warning voice
All I hear is thunder of two hearts beat
Going ninety miles an hour down a dead end street
Ninety miles an hour down a dead end street.

You're not free to belong to me
And you know I could never be your own
Your lips on mine are like a sweet, sweet wine
But we're heading for a wall of stone.

Warning signs are flashing ev'ry where, but we pay no heed
'Stead of slowing down the place, we keep a pickin' up speed
Disaster's getting closer ev'ry time we meet
Going ninety miles an hour down a dead end street
Yeah, ninety miles an hour down a dead end street
Well, ninety miles an hour down a dead end street.

Like a Ship

I wish she'd leave, as
Her love is a ship, and I'm
Gonna be keel-hauled.

A Traveling Wilburys single. The lyrics speak for themselves. The song was released as a bonus track on the 2007 reissue of the first Traveling Wilburys album. The album first came out in 1988.

Like a ship on the sea, her love rose over me
Like a ship on the sea, her love rose over me
Go 'way, go 'way, let me be

Like a weepin' willow tree, her love hangs over me
Like a weepin' willow tree, her love hangs over me
Go 'way, go 'way, let me be.

Standin' on the white cliffs of Dover
Lookin' out into space
Another channel to cross over
Another dream to chase

The night is dark and dreary
The wind is howling down
Your heart is hanging heavy
When your sweet love ain't around

Like a leaf on a tree, her love is shakin' me
Like a leaf on a tree, her love is shakin' me
Go 'way, go 'way, let me be
(Hauntin' me like a ship on the sea)
Like a leaf, like a ship on the sea
(Hauntin' me like a ship on the sea)

Let's Stick Together

We should not split up.
We made a promise, and we
Have a little child.

Wilbert Harrison failed to chart with this single when he released it in 1962. He changed it to "Let's Work Together," issued it again in 1969 and it was a big hit. It's not hard to see why. It's simple, it moves and it's fun. Bryan Ferry scored his highest-charting single with this song in 1976 on the album of the same name, and featured an incredibly strange vocal interlude from Jerry Hall. Bob Dylan's version opens his 1988 album "Down in the Groove," almost universally regarded as one of his two worst albums. It's a pity because Dylan's version of this song is a ramshackle good time. Here are the lyrics:

Well, a young marriage vow, you know, it's very sacred
The man put us together, now, you want to make it
Stick together
Come on, come on, stick together.

You know, you made a vow, not to leave one another, never
Well, ya never miss your water till your well runs dry
Come on, baby, give our love a try, let's stick together
Come on, come on, stick together
We made a vow, not to leave one another, never.

Well, ya never miss your water till your well runs dry
Come on, baby, give our love a try, let's stick together
Come on, come on, stick together
You know, we made a vow, not to leave one another, never.

It might be tough for a while, but think of the child
Cannot be happy without his mom and his pappy
Let's stick together
Come on, come on, stick together
You know, we made a vow, not to leave one another, never.

Handle With Care

Old rock n' rollers
Need TLC from young girls.
Won't you help them out?

I took a possibly inexcusable liberty with "Handle With Care," the first song from the first Traveling Wilburys album. Nowhere in the lyrics of this lovely song do the Wilburys say or imply that the "baby" who's the subject of the song is a younger woman. Nevertheless, old rock 'n rollers have a history of hooking up with women who, as they say, "stay the same age," and I thought it would work here. The Wilburys on this album were Bob Dylan, Jeff Lynne of the Electric Light Orchestra, Tom Petty, George Harrison and Roy Orbison.

Things that have happened to our old men:

- Beaten up, battered around, sent up, shot down, fobbed off, fooled, robbed, ridiculed, stuck in airports, terrorized, sent to meetings, hypnotized, overexposed, commercialized, been made to feel up tight, been a mess.

Locations of abuse:
- Daycare centers, night schools, airports

Instructions for proper use:
- Handle me with care, show that you care, put your body next to mine, dream on.

The proper candidate:
- Be the best thing I've ever found
- Be adorable
- Be able to receive some love
- Careful
- Be open to being leaned upon

Had a Dream About You, Baby

Bob dreams of a girl
He picks up. They go dancing,
Then they get coffee.

As far as dreams go, "Had a Dream About You, Baby" sounds like a good one. The song comes from Bob Dylan's widely panned 1988 album "Down in the Groove." It also appears in the soundtrack to the film "Hearts of Fire," a universally despised film in which Dylan co-starred with Rupert Everett. It's a decent song, though Dylan was unlikely to win any awards for profundity with this song.

1. He has to see her.
2. He had a dream about her.
3. She has a strange rhythm when she walks. She makes him nervous when she talks.
4. For once, Dylan's the driver and the girl's the hitcher. She says to take her to the nearest town.
5. They go dancing. The joint, as expected, is "jumpin'."
6. Later, she kisses him in the coffee shop. He gets nervous.
7. She's wearing a rag on her head and is wearing a dress of fire engine red.

Dirty World

She's like a fast car,

She's unsafe at any speed,

But sexy in gear.

This is one of the sillier songs by the Traveling Wilburys, and definitely one of their grooviest. It's the second track on their first album, and offers a lighter tone than some of the classic rock nostalgia that gives other parts of the album (Handle With Care, End of the Line, Heading for the Light, etc) its bittersweet autumn guitar feeling.

What he loves about you in the verses:

- Sexy body, dirty mind

- Grabbing him from behind

- The thought of introducing her to the other members of his gang

- How you make his legs quiver and his mind bend

- Your sense of humor and your disposition.

He also wants to change your oil for free, but knows you don't need a wax job because you're already smooth enough. He also offers to drive your pickup truck and park it where the sun doesn't shine. Of course, she goes to the airport in the end and he goes home to cry. Then Bob, George, Roy, Jeff and Tom tell you other things that they like about you:

- Electric dumplings

- Red bell peppers

- Fuel injection

- Service charge

- Five-speed gearbox

- Long endurance

- Quest for junk food

- Big refrigerator

- Tremblin' Wilbury

- Marble earrings

- Purple curtains

- Power steering

- Bottled water

- Parts and service

Death Is Not the End

Things might suck now, but

Don't worry; they'll suck much more

After you are dead.

I must admit that I stole the idea for this haiku from Nick Cave. He and the Bad Seeds covered the song on their 1996 album "Murder Ballads," a smorgasbord of violence, death and gore like no other pop album. Cave in an interview at the time suggested that the song, which sounds like a reassurance of deliverance after life in a painful world, could be read to suggest that the vale of tears that is life is surely eternal because, as Dylan tells us in each verse after describing something awful, "Death is not the end." I had to laugh when I heard that, and the more I thought about it, I'm not sure that Dylan didn't mean it that way when he released it on the 1988 album "Down in the Groove." (His backup singers were Full Force, all you old school rappers)

Here are the things for which you should be reassured, or horrified, to discover that death is not the end:

1. Sadness, loneliness, no friends, everything sacred broken and can't be mended.

2. Crossroads you can't comprehend, dreams vanished, unknown surprises around the bend.

3. Storm clouds, heavy rains, no one to comfort you, no one to lend a hand.

4. Cities on fire with the burning flesh of men, a lack of law-abiding citizens

In all seriousness, I think that Dylan meant this in an optimistic way, that death is deliverance, considering the middle-8 in the song:

Oh the tree of life is growing

Where the spirit never dies,

And the bright light of salvation shines

In dark and empty skies.

Keep all this in mind when you're contemplating the inevitable, and remember kids, don't drop acid and listen to this song.

Here is Nick Cave's version, complete with a host of guest singers from his band and other bands (including Shane MacGowan and Kylie Minogue).

Congratulations

Good job, heartbreaker.

You weren't happy until

You walked out on me.

Here's a standard jilted-lover lament led by Bob Dylan on the first Traveling Wilburys album from 1988. I remember the summer this came out because I had my first job, as a busboy and dishwasher at the Village Cheese Shop in Haddonfield, New Jersey. I worked with an allegedly cocaine-addled, hostile cook and country-western songwriter, ass to ass in a tiny kitchen, with the radio always tune to 94.1 FM, WYSP Philadelphia, the classic rock station. The debut of the Traveling Wilburys was a hot event for rock n' roll fans. It was a super group comprising George Harrison, Jeff Lynne of the Electric Light Orchestra, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty and Roy Orbison. I can't remember if we first heard these songs on 94.1 or 93.3. WMMR, but I do remember that this and all the other songs were on all summer. To prevent illegal taping and distribution, the DJs would speak quickly at various points during the song, sullying the delivery and frustrating bootleggers. I fell in love with the album, and have always come back to it. "Congratuations" isn't one of the tracks that the record company and radio stations pumped as heavily as others, but it's a great song.

Here are the things for which Bob wishes his former lover congratulations:

1. Breaking my heart.

2. Tearing it all apart.

3. Leaving me in need.

4. Bringing me down.

5. Leaving me sorrow bound.

6. Getting a good deal.

7. How good you must feel.

8. Making me wait.

9. Making it too late.

10. Coming out on top.

11. Never knowing when to stop.