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about
Escobar in the Heartland is a long dark song sparked by a long strange drug-fueled road trip through pre-Reagan America. It’s now at least 45 years old, but it’s gained renewed resonance in the age of Trump. When I wrote it, I did an error-filled one-take recording on my trusty AKAI 4000 and filed it. The tape degraded over the years, and all I had left of the song was the sardonic angst of the lyrics.
Twelve years ago I decided to revive the thing and give it the full one-man-band treatment--to reconnect with the ghost of my jaded youth. That was mix one. It was pretty rough. Lately, people who heard it automatically assumed the world it depicts is Trump's America. "Heavy-metal ballparks full of heavy-lidded eyes--they're swaying to the snake who owns the charmer": that's a Trump rally, right?
Escobar in the Heartland Revisited is my second attempt to do the material justice. If people who've never heard of Pablo Escobar find contemporary meaning in it, great.
It's been an albatross for me, sucking up more time than I'd ever intended to devote to a curatorial exercise in historical preservation. But it's done. I've tried to keep as much of the original '70's style and feel as possible. It's all me. There are no unindicted co-conspirators.
Any echoes of My Old Kentucky Home, The Star-Spangled Banner and Home on the Range are purely intentional.
lyrics
ESCOBAR IN THE HEARTLAND
The sun shone bright in the middle of the night
And the fool read his lines on the mirror
Through the rockets' red glare bombs were bursting in air
And the sky rained Texans all day
Heavy-metal ballparks full of heavy-lidded eyes
They're swaying to the snake who owns the charmer
A chemical surprise is just a way to clear your eyes
And kill all the lies that cloud the day
Seems that reason's in the ear of the deaf man
Beauty's in the eye of the blind
Loving hits your nose through a rolled-up paper hose
Singing, 0 Columbia, be mine....ah be mine
The sun shone bright in the middle of the night
And the cows all jumped over the spoon
Those cows were football stars from the good ol' U. of Mars
And Ho Chi Minh and Davy Crockett both were gay
People full of wheat fields, full of plastic, full of pride
They wave to TV mirrors at the circus
The lies behind their eyes were sold as toxic apple pies
And godless reds with whips pretend to fear us
Seems that reason's in the ear of the deaf man
Beauty's in the eye of the blind
Loving's at the heart of the plastic surgeon's art
And plastic flesh is all you leave behind
B R E A K....to the tune of “Home on the Range”
Dope feeds on your brain
Where the fear, like a cantaloupe lays
Where seldom is heard an intelligent word
And your pupils grow bigger all day
The sun shone bright in the middle of the night
And the armies of the day took off their clothes
The general said, "It's me, I'm the biggest, can't you see
My privates are the toughest in the world"
Lifeless Valentinos in their boudoirs full of thorns
They're sleeping with the Guinness Book of Records
It's the same old song again, only lovers, never friends
But hey, let's play the song out to the end
Seems that reason's in the ear of the deaf man
Beauty's in the eye of the blind
Loving's in your head every time you crawl to bed
But it winds up in the bank much of the time
Reason's in the ear of the deaf man
Beauty's in the eye of the blind
Loving hits your nose through a rolled-up paper hose
Singing, O Columbia, be mine....ah be mine
Copyright Michael Park 1978
credits
released March 27, 2024
All vocals, music and lyrics by Michael Park
Drums: Superior Drummer 3, EZ Drummer 3
Bass: IK MODO Bass 2
Hammond organ: GSi VB3 2
Guitars: MusicLab RealStrat 5, RealLPC 5
Pianos: Modartt Pianoteq 8, AAS Lounge Lizard EP 4
DAW: Cakewalk by Bandlab
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