Alexander’s On A Monday Night

Photo courtesy of James D. Campbell

After repeated requests for a video or audio recording of my epic folk ballad performed at the psychodots Thanksgiving show on November 29, I am sorry to say none apparently exists. Though some reported the song lasting as long as thirty-seven minutes, I think it was closer to ten; still, an eternity in pop music. Meant to be a one-time special thing, it will probably never be properly recorded, and, truth be told, the guitar part is already fuzzy. Here, then, are the lyrics as a souvenir for those who were there: at the Thanksgiving show, and at Alexander’s back in the day.

Alexander’s On A Monday Night (R. Klug) 

[Gaelic guitar riff, loosely based on Richard Thompson]

When I went off to school, just a freshman in my class
I sat and stewed and worried, however would I pass
The time in that god-forsaken barge town in the smoke
Stuck in Cincinnati, was this some kind of joke?
Stuck in Cincinnati, was this some kind of joke?

I heard tell of a club in a plaza down the way
The girls were rough and ready and live music they did play
And so the oasis, it came into my sight
When I walked in Alexander’s on a Monday night
When I walked in Alexander’s on a Monday night

[Repeat Gaelic guitar riff, trad. arr. Richard Thompson]

I first went on a Tuesday, it was the college scene
I daren’t look at the doorman for I was just seventeen
But college opens doors and I was waved on by
Free at last I hurried past to join the great pig sty
Free at last I hurried past to join the great pig sty

The music was quite ‘eighties, I’d heard it all before
The band played tunes by Journey, Loverboy and Foreigner
I think their name was Relay and they were quite alright
But it wasn’t Alexander’s on a Monday night
No, it wasn’t Alexander’s on a Monday night

[Gaelic guitar riff again, it’s expected by now]

The second time I went I saw a twin guitar attack
Something ‘bout that shithole conspired to call me back
And so I’d shirk my studies and head down to the wharf
To swim with the sharks and to see a drummer dwarf
To swim with the sharks and to see a drummer dwarf

Weeks passed and then I’m back again, staring at the stage
Balloons balloons are everywhere and chaos is the rage
A box of Sunmaid raisins, bathed in bright white light
So this was Alexander’s on a Monday night
This was Alexander’s on a Monday night

[Gaelic guitar riff, you know it]

They launched into a pop song, the like I’d never heard
I hung on every note, I hung on every word
They played a second tune and still I didna know its name
And all through the night they’d proceed to do the same
All through the night they’d proceed to do the same

The guitar player had a guitar, man, that he could rock
He played it with his teeth he played it with his cock
The bass player’s fingers were a blur on his right hand
And it was then I knew, this was my kind of band
It was then I knew: this was my kind of band

[Fake-out! Instead of Gaelic guitar riff, straight into new bridge; approximately same effect as the key change in Ravel’s “Bolero”]

Oh Jenny oh Jenny do ya hear?
That tintinnabulation ringing in your ear
Oh Jenny sweet Jenny don’t it make you feel alright?
But Jenny slipped away into that gentle night
Sweet Jenny slipped away into that gentle night

[Variations on the Gaelic guitar riff, played very sensitively]

My mum and dad were really sad when I gave them the news
I’m leaving here, I’m quitting school, I’m off to pay my dues
As a power pop musician, my sole purpose in life
Was shown to me at Alexander’s on a Monday night
My sole purpose was shown to me on a Monday night

[Instead of Gaelic guitar riff, loosely based on Richard Thompson, a dramatic acoustic rave-up, loosely based on Jimmy Page, or a gorilla, which climaxes and just as dramatically descrendos to triple-pianissimo]

[Here the lyrics get fuzzy, since it was deliberately intended to be open-ended and name-check anyone associated with the story, particularly if they were present (and a good rhyme for a long “i”); give or take a verb or preposition, should be historically accurate]

The day after Thanksgiving, two thousand and thirteen
And I’m still in that god-forsaken barge town by the stream
Now how could I have known, I’d be openin’ for that band
That band I saw so long ago, well at least one-half
And that one-half has become two-thirds, it’s true you do the math
‘Cos Chris came back into the fold after a long hot bath
And when I think about that time it makes me want to laugh

But then I think some more, I stop to laugh and start to cry
‘Cos life was shiny sparkly, like a slice of apple pie
Before the days of Autotune, before there was Wifi
And Rick would soon become forever known as Ricky Nye
And the four faux Frenchmen were just a rumour and a sigh
And Rosie Carson was just a twinkle in her daddy’s eye
And Jimmy Siegert even then was standing tall and high
‘Twas but a simple twist of fate that brought me by
When I walked in Alexander’s on a Monday night
When I walked in Alexander’s on a Monday night
When I walked in Alexander’s on a Monday night
When I walked in Alexander’s on a Monday night

© 2013 Mental Giant Music (ASCAP)