When I was a little kid, we’d sometimes go to church with my grandparents on the weekend. Their church was a little tiny place in the middle of the woods where mostly farmers and poor people went. There was a Hammond instead of a pipe organ, the carpets were faded crimson red polyester, and the walls were lined with cheap wood paneling. My grandmother sang tenor (!) in the church choir, and my grandfather would play fiddle or musical saw along with the organ and piano. Anyway, the brash, earnest crooning of the Television’s Soul’s Harbor Singers reminds me of this church.
Google’s got nothing on these folks, but apparently they’re from Charleston, Maine. I love the Country Western arrangments, steel guitar, stiff postures and crazy hairdos. I also love how each little group of singers has its own stage name, like “The Singing Faloon’s.” Also check out Pastor Ronnie, who I’m sure caused impure thoughts in more than a couple parishioners. The track below appears to be sung by his dad.
This text will be replaced by the flash music player.
As 1980s German country music goes, I suppose this is pretty catchy. It doesn’t have any of the sad themes of modern country music– nobody loses a truck, nobody’s dog dies, it’s just happy little ditties about cowboys with a lot of slide guitar. But, it’s in German. Can you picture Herman Goering riding the range? Helmut Kohl rustling cattle? Well, neither can I, which is why I love this album.
The best track on the record is undoubtedly “Jonny Galaxis,” which is a space anthem set far in the future. It is the tale of Jonny Galaxis, the the 3-eyed futuristic space cowboy and seasoned sheriff, who threatens the narrator with a parking violation.
Here is my crappy translation (you at least get the gist of it):
Es war im Jahr 3010
In der weiten Ebene des Alls
Die Seidler zogen zu tausenden gen Jupiter
Auch ich war mit meinem 18düsigen Vierzigtonner
Unterwegs nach Westen, als ich durch die wildeste Stadt
Des Universums kam!Sechs Uhr Morgens
Die Sonne geht auf.
Er kommt mit schwerem Gang die Milchstrasse rauf.
Sein Lasercolt hängt tief,
Der Stetson lässig schief.
Und ich weiss—es gibt kein zurück.
Er ist der Sheriff dieser Gegend
Und der schnellste im All.
Sogar der Stern an der Brust ist aus Edelmetall.
Er geht auf mich zu,
Mir rutscht das Herz in den Schuh
Und ich weiss—jetzt brauche ich Glück.JONNY GALAXIS
Ist ein Sheriff der Praxis
Alles was er macht, macht er gründlich und sofort.
JONNY GALAXIS
Ist ein Sheriff der Praxis.
Er kennt kein Pardon
Bei ihm kommt keiner davon.Drei stahlblaue Augen
Blinzeln mich an
Und seine Reibeisenstimme sagt: Hör’n sie junger Mann.
Sie stehen im Haltverbot.
Bei sowas sieht Jonny rot.
Also schmeissen sie die Undertasse an, sonst sind sie dran! |
It was the year 3010
In the farthest reaches of the universe
The (silky strings?) pulled thousands to Jupiter.
But I was in my 18-jet 40-tonner
On my way to the west,
when I came to the wildest city in the universe!6:00 in the morning
the sun rose.
he walks with a heavy gait up the Milky Way.
His laser-Colt hangs low,
His Stetson perched at an angle
And I knew there was no turning back.
He’s the sheriff around here, and the fastest in the universe.
Even the star on his chest is precious metal.
He walked towards me
My heart rushed into my shoes
And I knew now I needed luck.JONNY GALAXIS
Is an experienced sheriff.
Everything he does is done thoroughly and imwp-content/uploads/unpleasanttely.
JONNY GALAXIS
Is an experienced sheriff
He knows no pardons
Nobody gets off lightly with him.Three steel-blue eyes blink at me.
And the iron friction of his voice says: “Listen up, young man!”
You’re standing in a “no stopping zone.”
This makes Jonny see red.
So throw yourself into the saucer, otherwise you are it (?)! |
“Truck Stop Mama” is an ode to a chick at a truck stop. I don’t really understand what they’re talking about, since I don’t know colloquial German trucker speak, but it sounds like they’re saying “truck stop mama is the best hammer. She’s our best piece, everyone she knows always comes back. Truck stop mama is an absolute hit, pampering truckers is for her the best luck.”
That sounds kinda dirty, which the rest of this album totally is not, as far as I can tell. But, who knows? Sit back, get yourself a bottle of Jack Daniels (or whatever the German equivalent is– Jagermeister?), chew on a stalk of hay and listen to the woes of the lonely (but not too lonely) German cowboy.
Jonny Galaxis
This text will be replaced by the flash music player.
