Whipping Post
Reincarnated MP3
So, Aiax sayz to me... "can't you see? You should sing louder!"
I thunk to meself... I may just flounder?
Then, I remembered what She said... about going to those
who have come before me for the answers.
Who is a singer that can really belt it out? Wah-la...
enter center stage: Janis Joplin
Cool... now there is a happenin' voice coach.
What song shall we do?
The Allman Brother's, "Whipping Post"? That seems like an
odd request... but, O.K... whatever you say.
The next day I laid down a foundation... using real instruments,
extemporaneous midi tracks were recorded for piano, organ, bass
guitar, and keyboards.
Hmmm... what is happening to me? I've developed some strange
body symptoms... my right hip seems to ache... as though I'd been
slamming my heel into the floor... but, I'm still ready to sing some more.
And, as I explore the physical pain of Janis Joplin, flashes of
pain more severe are revealed. Slaves... and others... hands bound...
and laced to a wooden post... bare back... soul exposed... flesh
being sliced... at the hands of another man. Why can't I understand?
Now, suppose... you were a soul... like Janis Joplin... or Duane Allman...
or maybe a name long forgotten... the souls are not rotten... yet, they have no
home... around the Earth they still roam. Maybe some would say they are
castaways on The River Styx? Or, not in Heaven or in Hell... but, somewhere
betwixt?
As long as man can remember, there has been a place for such souls to return:
Under the sun.
Could there be a day... when there is nowhere to run?
Yes... I can imagine that... and, Janis, how would it feel?
How would you deal? If there were a self-inflicted mass extinction of
human life, where would souls go to be born again? To atone for their sins?
Thus, on Sunday mourning, all were invited to a jam session. The accompanying MP3
was recorded live and ALIVE! Janis, I hope I kept my lame ass outta your way enough...
ta let ya shine through. Duane, thanks... I hope I let you "scream out" on the "high A" finale.
Whipping Post
by Gregg Allman
I been run down, I been lied to,
Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
My friends tell me, that I've been such a fool,
Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Copyright 1970 & 1974, No Exit Music Co., Inc.
I don't know why I let that mean woman make me a fool.
She took all my money, wrecked my new car.
Now she's with one of my goodtime buddies,
They're drinkin' in some crosstown bar.
Like I been tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.
And I have to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin' you.
Drown myself in sorrow, and I look at what you've down.
But nothin' seems to change, the bad times stay the same,
And I can't run.
Like I been tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.
Like I been tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.