About ‘Catholic Blues’
Catholic Blues was recorded in the fall of 2016, after a year-long bout with vocal strain that forced me to stop singing and- in the process- reevaluate my priorities in general. When the voice finally came back, it wasn’t the one I had taken for granted before. It required me to lay back a little, explore nuances and pockets rather than outer limits. Singing differently meant I had to play guitar differently as well, and so I traded my trusty nylon pick for my own fingertips and spent some quality time getting to know my acoustic guitars better. I also went back into my catalog, looking for old songs that fit in this new milieu. The “priorities in general” part took a little longer to figure out, but ultimately it meant coming to terms with legacy, regrets, bad decisions, and the dark and persistent gravity of shadowy things. Through that time, I found comfort and wisdom in many places, but in particular Stephen Batchelor’s seminal book Living with the Devil: A Meditation on Good and Evil, and Bow Thayer’s brilliant country blues album The Source and the Servant.

While the songs on Catholic Blues come from different times and places, I chose them because, together, they tell this story for me.

Album notes
All songs written and performed by Josh Brooks, copyright 2018 (Vowel Girls Music, ASCAP). Recorded and engineered in the fall of 2016 in Milton, VT by Kent Blackmer. Mastered by Ryan Power in the fall of 2018 at Perfect Pets Studio in Brooklyn, NY. Original cover drawing by Bethany Farrell, Vergennes VT.

Thanks
More thanks than I can muster are due to the following people: Kent Blackmer, my friend and father-in-law and drummer extraordinaire, who added ‘exceptional recording engineer’ to his already impressive musical resume; Bethany Farrell, a gifted, vibrant, and exceedingly soulful visual artist whose cover drawing captures the mythos of the record so beautifully; my parents, as always, for their unceasing love and support; and my wife, Tara, and daughters Addie, Livie and Ellie, who remind me every day that no matter how dark it may seem, we always have the choice to walk in the Light.

1. The Devil Taught My Mama How to Pray
One of the translations of ‘Satan’ is ‘adversary’. What do you do when the adversary is genetic? Somewhere there’s a version of this song that sounds like a White Blood Cells B-side.

When I was just a little boy my mama said to me,
“Son you gotta do what you enjoy. It’s the only way to be free.”
My mama died when I was seventeen, a bottle and a blade in each hand
She never had a prayer for me, but I’ve come to understand…
The devil taught my mama how to pray

I found work on my uncle’s farm trying to pull gold from the ground
Started putting needles in my arm; seemed better than just waiting around
Did six years for running mescaline and guns for the company man
I found Jesus, then I lost him again; sometimes the devil is your only friend
The devil taught my mama how to pray

I got a woman waiting at home for me; she keeps me fed and warm
I got another on the hilltop crying; Lord, I never meant to do her harm
My mama told me it’s a righteous man not beholden to anyone
But the Devil taught my mama how to pray, and that makes me the Devil’s son
The devil taught my mama how to pray

2. Sister Mary Janthony
This is the first story song I ever wrote, back in 1995 at Saint Michael’s College. Inspired by a news story about a woman who had disguised herself as a young boy and fooled kind-hearted strangers across the country.

Sister Mary Janthony had a pretty face
She’d hide it in her habit and call it her disgrace
All the ladies the convent new that she had been misplaced

They say she came from Iowa and amber waves of grain
With a face that sunk a thousand ships and hips that did the same
And the only thing she brought with her was a suitcase full of pain
Alleluia… Sister Mary’s found her place

She’d spend her days in quarantine scribbling on the walls
And dream up sacrificial chants hiding in the confessionals
And she called out for a doctor going by the name of God
And she sang...Alleluia… Sister Mary’s found her place

And when they found Father Neil hanging, nailed to the ceiling
Who do you suppose they found there, slick with sweat, silent, kneeling?
Mary mendicated, Our Sweet Lady of Disgrace, with the blood of Father Neil painted on her face
And holding hands to Heaven, she cried out and said, “My God, your work be done!”
Alleluia… Sister Mary’s found her place

Sister Mary Janthony had a pretty face
She’d hide it in her habit and call it her disgrace
But nobody has seen her ever since she was replaced…

3. Pessimist Blues
I don’t know if my grandma actually said this, but I’m pretty sure she thought it.

“Everything is going to shit!” That’s what my grandma used to say.
“Just when you want to throw your hands up and quit,
Some bigger shit comes round and blows that other shit away.”
Oh, but you’re not like that, another yesterday’s news
Please stop crying- darling, I didn’t write that
It’s these darn old pessimist blues

Everyone you know is either dying, or else they haven’t read the x-rays yet
Just cuz your living don’t mean you’re trying
It’s the hair of the Hydra; it’s a date with Juliet
Oh, but you’re not like that, another yesterday’s news
Please stop crying- darling, I didn’t write that
It’s these darn old pessimist blues

Alright, I’ll say it- I’m happy to see you
Happy’s a thought I haven’t thought of for a while
Heaven’s for the hopeful, and Hell is freezing
Gonna take all the hope you’re packing to even crack a smile

Oh, but I’m just like that, one of the willfully abused
Didn’t take the hand of Fate to write that
What kind of ink you gonna choose?
Oh, but you’re not like that, another yesterday’s news
Please stop crying- darling, I didn’t write that
It’s these darn old pessimist blues

4. Lucy’s Blues
Originally ‘The Morning Comes’, recorded with Kent Blackmer on my album Lesson Learned. Re-recorded a few years later by Panton Flats on our eponymous EP. Lucy, you can rest now.

Lucky Lucy’s getting out tonight; she’s in a volatile state
Oh yeah… here she comes
All the junkies and the dealers at the park-and-ride, she knows ‘em all by their names
Oh yeah… here she comes
And the morning comes… too fast

Benny’s been down at the bottom all day; he’s longing for some light
Oh yeah… here she comes
He sees Lucy from across the way- Benny’s getting Lucky tonight!
Oh yeah… here she comes
And the morning comes… too fast

A back alley and a Chevrolet; Lucy lights her last cigarette
Oh yeah… here she comes
A gram of meth is worth the price she pays, and all it takes to forget
Oh yeah… here she comes
And the morning comes… too fast

5. Anniversary
Inspired by an NPR story about the latest trend: divorce parties.

Fog was in the hollow. Leaves were falling down.
Your mother put the final touches on your wedding gown.
The ladies all were waiting; you were nowhere to be found
Beginning of the end of you and me… anniversary.

The best man pat me on the back, said, “Boy, just let her go.”
The maid of honor held her tongue while her eyes said, “Told you so.”
The families fought like mockingbirds; the friends scattered like crows,
While the band played ‘A Closer Walk with Thee’... anniversary.

Mother wept into her hat; the old man shook his head
Aunt Mabel stood by the buffet table filling her purse with bread
The priest he read a prayer for me; I couldn’t hear a word he said
Just the rattle of the branches in the breeze… anniversary.

The ring bearer and the flower girl sat on the steps and cried
All the wailing and the gnashing of teeth, they were sure that you had died
And in the darker part of me, I hoped that they were right…

Fog was in the hollow. Leaves were falling down.
Your mother put the final touches on your wedding gown.
You were at the barroom with some new fool you had found…

Winter’s cold it soothes me, chills me to the bone
Spring she runs right through me; she’s here and then she’s gone
Summer stars burn fast and bright between the dusk and dawn
Fall’s a ghost that will not let me be… anniversary.

6. Money
Written during the Recession of 2008. Originally appeared on Babylon, an album Kent and I recorded as electric blues rock duo Grant Black.

You always said that you’d love me baby, for rich and for poor
Now they’re laying off at the factory baby and the tax man’s knocking at the door
House has gone to foreclosure, the pickup’s on blocks
Running low on pills and there’s a pile of bills busting right out the mailbox
So tell me… where the money’s gonna come from.

You can tell the way things are headed by the line at the discount store
Man on the radio says ‘don’t panic… best thing to do is buy more and more and more’
New chief in the White House says all we got to do is unify
He’s got the same smile as the man down at Unemployment telling me I don’t qualify
So tell me… where the money’s gonna come from

What good’s a place at the table if you got no food to eat?
What’s the use in pulling up your boot straps when you got no shoes on your feet?
I got a friend who says he’ll help me out; says he’s got a sure thing
Couple trips across the border get us back on our feet again
So tell me… where the money’s gonna come from

You always said that you’d love me baby, through thick and through thin
But there’s no work left in this county, baby, ain’t no place left for honest men
Things are getting tight up in Canaan; gonna have to disappear for a spell
Keep that forty-five loaded on the night stand, baby; time’s like this, you know, you never can tell…
Where the money’s gonna come from…
Where’s the money gonna come from?

7. Helen of the Internet
It always bothers me when modern-day urban folkies try to sound like they just finished plowing the back forty. In that spirit, I tried to write a folk song for the digital age. The closest I could get was a rockabilly song about Internet porn addiction.

Got a baby up in Crater Lake, part of the Cascade Mountain Range
Her eyes are blue as that blue water; she is a park ranger’s daughter
I know for sure that she’s 18; says so right here on the pop-up screen
She’s the Apple of the Internet, and I ain’t even touched her yet…

My baby’s got her own home site: www.up-all-night
She takes comments, she takes trash; she takes a lot of money but she don’t take cash
She puts them selfies there online so I can see her anytime
Sometimes she’s ginger, sometimes she’s blonde; sometimes she’s got her britches on
Got a baby up in Crater Lake, part of the Cascade Mountain Range
She’s the Apple of the Internet, and I ain’t even touched her yet…

I tried to call her up one time: 1-900-SHOW-U-MINE
Got this lady sounded like Katmandu; I said, “You ain’t who I’m a-talking to”
But I don’t blame my baby for it, cuz I got extra hard drive storage
And for another fifty dollars more she’ll show you what all that RAM is for…

My room’s unclean; my hair’s a mess. Been up four days straight and I still ain’t dressed
Don’t have a job, don’t have a car, but it’s left-click, right-click and there you are
Is this a dream? Am I insane? She’s crawling through the computer screen
My wi-fi’s all on overload- mama, let’s make love in binary code!
001-01-001…
Got a baby up in Crater Lake, part of the Cascade Mountain Range
She’s the Apple of the Internet, and I ain’t even touched her yet…

8. Catholic Blues
For Father Lavallee, who first taught me about the shoulder-perching angel and his demonic nemesis. The mythology of guilt… and redemption… kind of.

I wake up in the morning, and right away I think of all the things I won’t do today
I won’t steal my neighbors puppy, phone scam an old lady, grease the poles at the strip club,
Or take candy from babies
I don’t know God, but I know his work:
Be good to others, even the freaks and the jerks
This life I’m living is not the life I choose.
May I be forgiven… I got the Catholic blues

I never pay on credit; I never take out loans. Leave my bottom girl happy- throw that dog a bone
I never drink cheap whiskey, that I can recall… but if I did then you were with me, and we was having a ball
I don’t know God, but I know his work
Be good to others, even the freaks and the jerks
This life I’m living is not the life I choose.
May I be forgiven… I got the Catholic blues
Hail Mary now…

When I was just little (fifteen years old), Father caught me in the rectory checking out a centerfold
Said, “There’s a devil on your left side and an angel on your right.”
Hard telling who’s winning, but it’s a hell of a fight.
I don’t know God, but I know his work:
Be good to others, even the freaks and the jerks
This life I’m living is not the life I choose.
May I be forgiven… I got the Catholic blues

9. For Pandora
The only way to beat the Devil is also the most difficult: compassion.

Hey Pandora, lugging that old box. A moment of pleasure for a life in the stocks.
You’re tossing out candy like it was a parade.
But you wind up creeping on your hands and knees, sweeping up wrappers and piles of leaves
Sleeping on blades in the bed that you made…

Hey Pandora, you’re the pick of the bunch. I ask you to dinner… you stay until lunch
Yes, you drive a hard bargain, drive it right off the road
All the pain and suffering, misery and strife. You’re a heck of a lady; you’d make a wreck of a wife.
Oh, you’re bound to explode, Pandora. Come on, lighten that load…

Hey Pandora, got my hand in your jaws. You could write a Greek tragedy with all the trouble you cause
You keep calling this number, mama. I keep on letting it ring, ring, ring.
It rings in the morning, it rings in the night. Make a woman go crazy, make a man lose his sight
Give this poor heart wings- yah baby, you do all of these things…

Hey Pandora, who keeps lifting your lid? Some things are worth knowing that are better kept hid
He might say that he loves you, but you know he’s untrue
You can keep on digging til that treasure is trash, or flush with a fever and burnout in a flash
Oh, it’s the worse kind of blues! Pandora... oh, why won’t you choose?

Hey Pandora, daughter of the moon, come on and get out of bed; the sun is coming up soon
But the garden is locked up and the streets are all closed
Can’t you hear the rain falling somewhere off in the east,
Saying the last shall be blessed and the first shall be least?
Any fool would know which way the wind blows
Pandora...