Organ Donor Blues

by John Velghe & The Prodigal Sons

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  • Compact Disc (CD)

    PopDose.com calls it "HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. Eleven tracks and no filler. The first sign that an album is good. Quality songs and top-notch arrangements are the second sign. Organ Donor Blues fits the necessary requirements perfectly and then some."

    Jon Dee Graham asked “Can I get these lyrics engraved on my tombstone?”

    You receive the handsome and ecological, 8-panel gatefold compact disc package. This retail package comes complete with band photography, lyrics, and images capturing the recording and writing process. Lovingly designed by John Velghe, the album artwork includes photography by Juj Winn and Todd Zimmer.

    “There are records we meet and immediately become part of our lives. We listen to them through our forever. This is one of those records.” – Angela Lupton, The Deli

    “When people talk about the merits of Americana, a sound that can sometimes feel mail-order anonymous, what they want is the rare thing that Velghe has cultivated: music whose familiarity and honesty pull at your gut instead of just reassuring you. What Velghe has found in the wake of these losses is a powerful set of songs. ” – Natalie Gallagher, The Pitch

    Includes unlimited streaming of Organ Donor Blues via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ... more
    ships out within 3 days

     $10 USD or more

     

  • Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

     $10 USD  or more

     

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about

“Can I get these lyrics engraved on my tombstone?” — John Dee Graham

"HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. Eleven tracks and no filler. The first sign that an album is good. Quality songs and top-notch arrangements are the second sign. Organ Donor Blues fits the necessary requirements perfectly and then some." -- Rob Ross, Pop Dose.com

“There are records we meet and immediately become part of our lives. We listen to them through our forever. This is one of those records.” – Angela Lupton, The Deli

“When people talk about the merits of Americana, a sound that can sometimes feel mail-order anonymous, what they want is the rare thing that Velghe has cultivated: music whose familiarity and honesty pull at your gut instead of just reassuring you. What Velghe has found in the wake of these losses is a powerful set of songs. ” – Natalie Gallagher, The Pitch

credits

released 24 June 2014

John Velghe vocals, guitars, keyboards

The Prodigal Sons are:
Mike Alexander guitars, backing vocals
Matt Anderson drum set
Sam Hughes saxophone
Hermon Mehari trumpet
Chris Wagner bass, backing vocals Mike Walker trombone

Additional Performers:

Kirsten Paludan vocals - 1, 3, 4, 5, 9, 10, 12
Alejandro Escovedo vocals 2, 6, 11 and guitars 4, 9
Josh Quint pedal steel guitar 3, 5, 6

www.johnvelghe.com

Band photos by Todd Zimmer and John Velghe
Interior photos by Juj Winn
Cover photo and design by John Velghe
Produced by John Velghe
Recording and Mastering Engineer Duane Trower
Recorded and Mastered at Weights and Measures Soundlab, Kansas City, MO
Mixing and additional Recording at Guttersnipe Recording Co. Kansas City, MO

Thanks to our families, friends, and fans for your love and support.
Special thanks to Juj Winn, Diana Heilker, Alejandro Escovedo, Jon Hart and everyone at 90.9 The Bridge & KCPT, Joe Dimino, Todd Zimmer, Danny Alexander, Dan Dumit, Anna Hoard, and Go Go Ray.

Lakeshore Records

Executive Album Producers: Skip Williamson and Brian McNelis Director of A&R: Eric Craig
Special Thanks to Lynn Hobensack and Don Smith

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about

John Velghe Kansas City, Missouri

John Velghe (pronounced Vel-jee) writes songs leaning towards personal narratives and accounts of people he’s met over 20 years of playing and touring. From a friends fre ex-wife in Austin to a 4-year-old waitress in Lucas, KS to a transvestite railroad worker in Duluth, MN; Velghe populates his songs with real characters who’ve informed personal allegories about escape, transformation and fear. ... more

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Track Name: Don't Understand Your Home Town
You made some mistakes in your own hometown. You come from a place where your friends run you down.
They all think they dance on the head of a pin. You know you won't fit, ‘cause you don’t understand your home town

Your saying your prayers without “amens.” Ghosting for amateurs calling us friends.
You know all the names.You know every face. You’re still all alone in your most familiar place

Despite the pricking of your thumbs and the bad ideas you stole. Nothing wicked ever comes, the stories just get old.
Every one knows but nobody cares. They tell you to dance but you know you don't fit your hometown

You know you don’t dance but you know every step. Just not the ones that lead back to your hometown.
Track Name: Beaten by Pretenders (feat. Alejandro Escovedo)
You can’t be beaten by pretenders. You can’t be beaten by the war.
You can’t be beaten by the ones that ask for more, and ask for more.
You know I’d give you my bottle. You know I’d give you my score.
I’d give you everything if you’d ask for more. So ask for more.

If we could write the book, we’d change how it ends.
They can bring the wolf, but we don’ t have to let them in.

You won’t be taken by the rifle. You wont’ be taken by the sword.
You won’t be taken by the one they call the Lord. Let them preach the Word.
You won’t surrender to the morpine. You won’t surrender to the bug.
You won’t surrender for the way you choose to love. No matter how it’s done.

Oh, they’ve come to take you home. I’m the fool who let them in.

You’d know I’d give you my organs. You know I’d give you my bones.
I’d give you anything just to be alone. Alone with you.
If we could write the book. We’d change how it ends.
If I could find the wound, you would have to let me in.
Track Name: On the Interstate
I don’t want to be the one you run to.
I don’t want to be the one who's there.
I just want to be this thing that shines through everything you feel when no one cares.

And on the interstate maybe I can find the grace to come through.

I don’t want to be a sitting room chair.
I don’t think I know where I would fit.
I don’t want to be the way you get there.
They said I never would amount to shit.

I don’t want to be a night you live down.
I just want to howl like a wounded wheel.
I just want to feel the way you shine through everything I see when no one cares.

On the interstate we’re going to the find grace to shine through.
On the interstate maybe we can find some place to get to.
Track Name: Gold Guitar
Just got high with Lenny.
Used to get drunk with Al.
Got knocked down by John Dee Graham when the gold guitar was just so loud.

Nobody dances in Philly.
Nobody goes out in D.C.
Everybody’s rich in Williamsburg and the Bowery’s just a clothes horse dream.

It’s like the songs, never made a sound.
It’s like the rain, never kissed the ground.
It’s like the roads never crossed down South.

Might not make the marquee.
Might not see the signs.
Nobody’s ever going to sell their soul when they’re giving them away on line.

Now everyone talks over Lenny.
Everyone talks over Al.
But everyone types over John Dee Graham because the gold guitar is still so loud.

It's like the song when it makes a sound
It's like the rain when it crushed the ground
It's like the roads when they crossed down south
Track Name: Set it Fire
If I had a song for love, to hold it, I’d write it on your road-map heart, and fold it.
If your’e getting lost one night, you might just open up your road map heart to find us.
But don’t let it go. Just set it fire to make it lighter.
Open up your road map heart for one night. Let me write a song for love by daylight.
I won’t let it go.
Track Name: The Singers let you Down
Line ‘em up and knock ‘em back now.
All the blood is on the tracks, now
all the singers let you down and you don’t think they’re coming ‘round again.

All the people, all the lights and
all the stops in endless nights.
Once your heart turns to glass you know nothing lasts forever.

All you do is fall in love. You do it with every word you hear them sing; cuts your heart with a diamond ring.

All the people all the races,
ukuleles on their faces.
No one wears an old guitar and no one climbs inside your car.
Over-dressed and over paying,
into walls you walk away and
tuck a picture in your sheets so when you dream no one cheats.