Dig Here
by Adam Rudegeair
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Digital Album
Immediate download of 11-track album in your choice of MP3 320, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.Buy Now $10 AUD or more
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Transmogrify
05:47
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Deja Voodoo
06:13
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My Hipiosity
04:21
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Like a Lady
06:06
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Red Queen
04:14
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Bayou Boy
03:37
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Funk on Time
05:35
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Assisted
02:49
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about
A compilation of funk tracks from Adam Rudegeair's genre-hopping back catalogue. The tracks have been edited slightly from their original album versions to flow better in this track order. Includes a bonus track if you purchase the whole album!
credits
released 10 October 2011
All tracks composed and arranged by Adam Rudegeair.
All tracks composed and arranged by Adam Rudegeair.
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Adam Rudegeair is a Melbourne-based piano player/songwriter. His major projects include his jazz trio, and the future-noir
... more
cabaret project ‘Neon Bogart’. He is also the pianist in Glasfrosch and Henry Manetta and the Trip.
Recent recordings also include the solo album 'Bayou Tapestry' and Glasfrosch’s 'If You Go Far Enough into the Sky You’ll Come Out Underwater'.
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discography
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Oct 2011 -
Jun 2011 -
Feb 2011 -
Jan 2009 -
Jun 2004
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- Track Name: Deja Voodoo
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Deja Voodoo
Copyright 2010 Adam Rudegeair
When I was born I was hot and steamin’
These days I find I’m cold and dreamin’
Waitin’ till night, of spirits I wonder,
You got time to think when you’re six feet under…
Way Down in the Bayou deep,
The conjure man say he might help me sleep.
I thought he’d help me take a nap,
But he gave me death and a lagniappe!
CHORUS:
Day after Day
In my grave I slumber…
Night after Night
I rise from six feet under…
Deja Voodoo
I been down this road before
Deja Voodoo
Gris Gris keeps me comin’ back for more.
I wanna go home, put on a little chankachank,
Can’t even stop for a coal drank.
My ass say that banquette sho’ look good,
Lessay lay bon ton roolay – Don’t I wish I could!
CHORUS
BRIDGE:
Every Hour’s the witchin’ Hour
Jus’ me and loup garoo
Every season’s the season of that witch
I make my bed down in the grasdu,
My ma put some flowers on my grave.
I can’t even give her a little wave.
That conjureman’s funky trance didn’t give me the chance,
I’m a Zombiman—and a Zombiman’s a slave…
CHORUS
Zombi, Zombi
Slave to the Gris Gris - Track Name: My Hipiosity
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My Hipiosity
Copyright Adam Rudegeair 2006
Sample the cool breeze, it comes in a spray.
Dab it on in the morning, it lasts all day.
Then you will understand with great velocitay
My hipiosity.
My hipiosity.
My hip.
Your spunkitude’s shootin outta your pores
All in my direction
My funkesque panacharama quivers all galasmic
With your every inflection
Now you may dance like you’re the Bossa Nova
But you’d be a monstrosity
If you ever lined up side by side with
My hipiosity
My hipiosity.
My hip.
You’ve heard of Birth of the Cool, well, meet the father.
That’s right.
I wrote the book, it’s called “The spank-o-paedia”,
it’s your bedtime story tonight.
You can call me Narcissist, or an egotist, but a realist is what I am,
When I drop it on the one, every name under the sun won’t save you from
What the common man wishes he could stand
My Hipiosity
Walk me round the corner now
What’s my secret? I’ll tell you right now
This is a lifestyle that don’t come easy street.
It’s a delicate line letting my pulchritude shine
Not comin’ off sleazy beat.
When you’re a walking raunch-a-thon,
It’s lonely at the top.
When the talent see me come strutting
You better bring a mop!
Aaow!
You’re sassafrass, you know it, but don’t you ever think,
I may have met my match.
With all your audacity, do you really have the capactity to
Dream of seeing me attached?
To your good self, you know you’re sharp like blades,
and you do give me the rush.
I know you think you got the lusciouslicity in spades,
But I got it in a Royal Flush baby.
Do you fell me?
Oh no no no but do ya feel me?
Get your ass in the boudoir.
Don’t think I’m waxin’
Lyrical ‘bout the miracle I got more vibe than Milt Jackson,
Cynical as you are, I do believe I’m getting under your skin,
It’s not where I’d prefer to be, But we can take it slow
while we sin away the night that lies before me.
I’m a hound, you’re Angela Basset.
I wanna sink my teeth into your latitudinous asset.
Don’t worry bout me, I’m self arousing.
A little dialogue between the hat and the hip I’m espousing
But you, you’re so tongue-a-licious it’s inhuman.
I feel a long night loomin’, you’re saucier than Paul Newman.
Just let me squeeze out this Lotion…
We’ll keep it ongoing like perpetual motion with
My Hipiosity: More secret than the herbs and spices,
The hip is invaluable so don’t ask what the price is.
It must be cultivated,
Lushly orchestrated.
It’s hotly debated but don’t think it’s overrated,
So forget about what you hear,
I got beaucoup demonstration for you, my dear,
You’ll be trippin on the hipster, the hepcat in the hat,
Now what do you say to an offer like that?
My Hipiosity
My hip. - Track Name: Like a Lady
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Like a Lady
Copyright 2008 Adam Rudegeair
After I get home,
And I’m sitting in my eloquence throne,
Pick up the telephone,
And dial your numero,
Doncha know, it starts with a double O.
Pour myself a long scotch,
You know I just like to watch,
As your mellifluous butterscotch
Paints a perfect picture, and now you’re richer.
Somebody get me a fan,
Think my temperature’s taken all it can,
The image of you flickers on the back of my eyelids and—
I just saw your tattoo just drip down your back…oooh!
CHORUS
And I’ve never seen your face
And I don’t know your real name
You don’t ask where I’ve been
But you know I’ve been a bad boy again.
I may not be no saint
But you ain’t no Marsha Brady
One things for sure:
You don’t get down like a lady.
My friends told me it’s just cheap sex,
I said “Cheap?!” Showed em what it costs to connect
If only you’d accept when I call you collect
Baby when I get a frown – you turn it upside down
By the time I get halfway through my bottle
My bad hands on the phone, my good one’s easin’ on the throttle.
I’m having contemplations make me a sex Aristotle
Every time you sigh, my credit card wanna cry.
Bridge:
Ain’t it cool?
Cause you don’t have to meet my folks
And you don’t have to laugh at my silly little jokes
We ain’t caught up in no relationship hoax
I didn’t cut you a key, cause you know what you mean to me.
CHORUS
I was on my hands and knees, scrubbin’ your floor
I worked it to the bone, you worked me till I cried poor
You spank me for hours and I wake up…sore
And by the early morning, you’ve spent me empty,
Hang up, and pass out on the--
credits - Track Name: Argyle Girl (feat. Henry Manetta)
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Argyle Girl
Copyright 2004 Adam Rudegeair
I’d seen her couple times,
round town as I recall,
I was playing Bogie and
She was my Bacall, Brunette in a
Short shirt and an Argyle top,
might be hazardous to my health
And the she dropped the bombshell
and the bombshell was herself.
Legs poured into stockings,
now that’s a set of pins.
Padlock round her waist her daddy
put there for her sins.
Tongue was like a whip and this girl
liked to give a lashing
That’s how I discovered that
Argyle was back in fashion.
CHORUS
Fashion moves in circles and
this girl came into style.
Same time that she walked in
and I looked up her file.
{Argyle Girl}
Two legs and an attitude,
I wanna be her toy
Cause she’s an Argyle Girl
and I’m a pinstripe boy.
Argyle Girl was aloof,
some might say she’s rude.
She gave me a gutful of her sassy-o-si-tude
She stopped at 6ft 1, her panache went through the roof
Sucked a Kit Kat Caramel
To satisfy her sweet tooth
I tried to play it cool
She raised a cautionary eyebrow
If I want those legs around my waist
Best not to act too highbrow
I asked her what she did,
Said she’s a bedroom dancer.
Lucky she’s the kind of girl who
takes ‘Yes’ for an answer.
CHORUS
Shotmybucca!
credits - Track Name: Red Queen
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'Red Queen' by Adam Rudegeair
She is the Lady A
Alias Red Queen
She grew from the seed that funk done sewn.
And when it comes to slanky grooves,
She like to grow her own.
Each day’s a better day
To turn insipid to inspired
Your saviour’s on her way…
No phone booth required.
You thought she was possessed,
She was dancing in reverse.
You were looking for the fonk in the bottom of your purse
If money were soul
You could buy God.
If soul were money I could too.
Just nod.
To all those out the assassinate the precedent,
Remember we are the antecedents of the empire of crowning achievement.
So now your resident dissident band
Is gonna drop the magnificent brand of new 21st century fonk.
And you gon make that goofy face like you gotta
Mouthful of sass you don’t know what to do with…
Hit me now!
You thought you saw some smoke, I was grinnin’
As you turn around to run, that was just the beginning.
The night cracks open, the lava flows – you think I’m joking?
Take a look at your clothes.
Green electricity, vibe indistinguishable,
Rising from the fire inside, unextinguishable and so fine.
You’ll never go back to the cheap wine.
To the jazz police, I’m enemy of the state.
But to the white king I say “Checkmate”
You bleach us instead of teach us.
You creamed us when we wanted peaches.
You disinfected, we wanted soul-inflected,
You misdirected, we gon set you straight.
So put your wallet down, and get your green groove on.
You thought you were makin’ it better,
You were just making it worse,
So busy in rehearsal, you forget to write a verse.
With the freak at our dispersal,
We get didactic on your disposable tactic,
Dig the role reversal.
Hope you brought your jazz prophylactics.
As the groove gets tighter, turn your white face whiter. - Track Name: Yam Man (feat. Henry Manetta)
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Yam Man
Copyright 2010 Adam Rudegeair
I’m a Yam Man
You find me down in the swamp
Grow my own food, grow my own home,
Right outta a stump.
You see I was hangin’ out with this girl,
By the name of Marie LaFayette,
Little did I know you see,
This fling I’d soon regret.
Her pa was the local conjure man,
She went and messed with the gris gris,
One night I drank too much, I made her mad
She took the black cat bone to me.
Shamblin’ Ramblin’, Lurkin’, Smirkin’, on Bayou St John,
Mossy, Glossy, Drippin’ Trippin’, getting’ my green groove on.
I’m a Yam Man
You find me down in the swamp
Grow my own food, grow my own home,
Right outta a stump
I live a life that’s dark and green,
Your bayou nightmare’s my mossy daydream
You saw me outta the corner of your eye
Deep shadows I was lurkin’,
You thought I was your imagination
Cause your mind I be murkin’
Shamblin’ Ramblin’, Lurkin’, Smirkin’, on Bayou St John,
Mossy, Glossy, Drippin’ Trippin’, getting’ my green groove on.
Yam Man
I got twisted vines for hands,
Gator eyes for eyes,
I chill beneath the mangroves,
Them Gaturs all my wives…
Shamblin’ Ramblin’, Lurkin’, Smirkin’, on Bayou St John,
Mossy, Glossy, Drippin’ Trippin’, getting’ my green groove on.
Shamblin’ Ramblin’, Lurkin’, Smirkin’, on Bayou St John,
Mossy, Glossy, Drippin’ Trippin’, getting’ my green groove on. - Track Name: Bayou Boy
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Bayou Boy
Copyright 2010 Adam Rudegeair
C’mon suck on one of my candied yams,
I'll take you for a ride to the Yam Man’s land,
Fire and swamp, potent combination,
Reveal unto you the forgotten location
Of ancient ancestors, left to fester,
Sending out tendrils of mind-vines,
Sequestering your deepest thoughts,
Rooted in the marrow of time, now watch the helix unwind,
And reconfigure --
A ticking time bomb with a chemical trigger.
Their sinuous influence insinuates quick,
Tenaciously the tentacles grip,
Reality’s tenuous grasp begins to slip,
Blowing out the cobwebs of what you knew to be true,
Then you find the green overtaking the blue.
Collective primordial, bleeding lime cordial
Watchful eye on the world since time immemorial
The ravager rages, as they lie nascent,
Countin’ the ages till the scourge grows complacent
Like grabbin’ for apples,
You grapple for control,
Pieces of Earth being bought and sold,
And you won’t be told, won’t see till you’re trapped in the cold
Snap of a new ice age, but I’m the wolf in the fold.
A grand soul of old, covered in mould,
Gon’ uphold the bold, through sap, sweat and tears,
Acid rain wash ‘n’ burn away all your fears.
Displace your headspace, swamp water burns like mace,
Erase your ego’s imprint, efface your sapien self,
You may be man’s effigy, but your wealth grows from the last vestige of the venerated,
From beneath the bayou, primeval law reinstated.
My gatur eyes gaze into the mangroves of morality weed,
And the oil spews black at the heart of the bad seed.
You eat my fruit, you dry out my leaves and then,
Pulp up my body for the papers you smoke em in.
Once I tried to nurture you…
Now the screams of your ‘collateral damage’ call me to the rescue.
I’m the last echo, the voice of swamp justice,
I made the moss and the ebony clusters.
I’m the field you grew your greens on ,
I can burst the bubble you built all your dreams on.
I’m the chill you felt down your spine,
I made the grapes, you got drunk on the wine.
I’m the one who slithered over your grave,
I’m the memory of a planet enslaved.
So now I rise through the liquid suspension,
Synchronicity maelstrom defies comprehension.
I burst through the clay like a bubble into the concrete tangle,
I’ll turn your cities to jungle, encircle the earth like a bangle.
Choke your buildings with the fungal attack,
Hippie never seen a mushroom like this!
Block out the sun, while you run, I’ll get my photosynthesis!
We are the verdant vigilantes, drop down like the dew,
Dig my swamp juju, I’ll be your green guru.
And when we return from this magic garden ride,
You’ll be filled with jubilation,
Flashes of green before your sleepy eyes,
And remember…
One day all this green will be a pigment of your imagination.
Now get your green groove on. - Track Name: Funk on Time
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FUNK ON TIME ©2006 Adam Rudegeair
So, are funk songs ever about anything but funk?
Band: HELL NO!
In the spaces
Sliding between
The Subdivisions
And an extra squirt of chicken grease
Pop the strings
That suspend us tenuously
Between verity
And the brink
The brink of …uh!
CHORUS:
We gon hit it fo we quit it
And you’re lying on your back, spent, steaming.
We gon hit it fo we quit it
And now you know:
We gon hit it fo we quit it
Wake up in a puddle of spunk
We gon hit it fo we quit it
The funk is always on time
This funk is predicated on the fact that we are dedicated to
Have you feeling like a Saturday night.
Till now you’ve been insulated, well get liberated,
Prove you’re a vertebrate! Shake ya backbone! All right.
CHORUS
Bridge:
This morning I woke up in yesterday’s shirt
Gravelrash on my tongue
When loneliness follows you everywhere
You still gotta try to get up on the…
It’s hard to find people that care
About the same things that you do,
But it’s easy to walk around
Feeling like your heart is split in…
But the three, the three, the three
Is a constant reminder to me
Gimme three y’all
The three, the three, the three, oh please be good to me!
I’m a primate in the loop jungle
If there’s a vine to swang , Ima find it.
Minglin’ the jingle, find a new jammin angle
and then I’m gonna grind it
When you’re in a deep blue funk
You just gotta wade through it
You can lead a Donkey to water
He might even take to it
Spank it!
CHORUS x 2 - Track Name: Assisted
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Assisted © Adam Rudegeair 2011
Capable, composed, a writer of prose,
Poetry, satire, whatever you desire,
Vigilante moves, these qualities behoove
One who disapprove of stagnation
Like you do.
Chorus:
And I looked you up, but you were unlisted.
I never could have persisted f’you didn’t know I existed.
So here I stand, as a man enlisted.
I ain’t sayin’ you’re helpless, but sometimes it’s nice to be assisted.
Been a long time comin’, can't quite reach your feet,
Sassafras on your bed, too tired to tweet.
That’s where I come in, cruisin’ down your street,
Like the ice-cream man, with a succulent treat.
And I got the longest way to go round…
Micro-memes explode all around,
Whispering code in surround sound!
Let your worries corrode and the remoulade abound,
You’re Queen of the Muses…newly crowned!
Chorus
My heat will eat the sleet
Pleasure core elite
Replete with fleet secrete
Promise I’ll be discreet,
Maybe mistreat, and retreat
Then repeat on the downbeat.
