Rust On The Rails

A lifetime love of trains lead me (Bud) to attempt the writing of my first autobiographical song. It’s unconventional in many ways but, hey, it’s all about having fun.

Yeah, yeah, I know if you’ve gotta explain your song you’re in trouble! But if not familiar with the verse three imagery (and interested) this 28 second video shows what I watched as a kid.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UN9GxmtfX90

Thank you Janice for your support in my tedious efforts to jam four vignettes over many years into a three minute song smile Thanks to floyd for the thoughtful and helpful mix counsel and to Noel for our song structure discussions. And as always to PG Music and this community.

Oh, and pardon me but I couldn’t resist the SC photo of me smile at eight years old.

We always appreciate your time to listen and comment.

Vocal: Janice > Rodes NT1 > Scarlett 212 > Logic Pro X
Bass: RT 518 Electric, Pop HalfNotes (multiple comps)
Drums: RD Nashville EV 8ths
Guitar: RT 538 Electric, Rhythm PopBelieveHeld Direct Input (multiple comps)
Piano: MST 1809: Acoustic, Rhythm CountryBalladJohn
Piano: MST 1887: Acoustic, Solo-acc CountryPopJohn
Harmonica: RT 2857 Background CountryPopJellyRoll (multiple comps)
Harmonica: RT 2854 Background CountryPopJellyRoll (multiple comps)

Effects: Nectar 2, CLA Drums, CLA Bass, CLA Guitar, CLA Unplugged, Neutron 2 and Logic Pro X Grand Steinway sound
Mix: Logic Pro X
Mastering: Logic Channel EQ > Waves LinMB > Ozone 8 Imager > Ozone 8 Maximizer > Ozone Tonal Balance

Rust On The Rails

Verse 1
A child sits on a worn store bench next to his daddy
he stares at the dirt path leading to the train station
nearby the postmaster loads the wooden mail cart
the kid waits to chase him in the hot Georgia sun

Verse 2
when older the boy rides his bike down to the station
sittin’ on the loading dock he eats a brown bag lunch
men in fedoras ‘n mama’s with strollers wait in line
the conductor’s circled by colored dots from his punch

Verse 3
years later the young man visits the station house
his old postmaster’s there hanging a mailbag on a crane
the freight train slows down but no longer stops
its hook snatches the bag, he sees little stays the same

Bridge
now an old man, eyes grown dim, he gazes down the line
the rusting rails shimmer and taper into distant pines

Turnaround

Verse 4
standing in the shadow of the leaning water tank
his thoughts are broken by a crow with its caw
the tracks bear no train, only faded memories
a station house that’s nothing but crumbling brick walls

the tracks bear no train, only faded memories

© 2019 Janice and Bud Merritt
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