Rusty Locke/Singer-Songwriter

Many of the recording on this site were made on a simple 4 track portable device with a "Grundig" (I think) microphone. A single mic and just my 12 or 6 string guitar. My bedroom was the studio and the beg was a perfect sound absorber. I don't think any thing could have been clearer. 

The first time I heard him I was twelve or thirteen.

I stuck my head next to a record machine.

The first few chords blasted holes in my mind

And Hound Dog became my moment in time.

Chorus      

He touched everyone for a moment in time

That first date that first kiss that first sip of wine

The rythmn the beat the summertime heat

O that moment in time.

The snap of the hip the sneer from the lip

The deep southern drawl but the thing above all

The canvas he was where we painted our live

Chorus   

Up on the screen and then army green

When he stepped off the plane,

you should've heard the girls scream

And deep in our hearts a legend began

That soon over shadowed a simple young man

Chorus  

Its been 50 years plus since I heard him that day

30 or more since he rambled away

He took what he could and left what he should

Here's to the King - The man who taught me to sing.

I was driving back from Concord NH a year or so ago and noticed that the median strip on I-93 had been cleared in places. In one of these areas I spotted a forlorn broken stonewall; not more then 10 or fifteen feet long. It had obviously been cleared away during the interstate construction 30 or more years ago. I thought that this must be the first time that portion of wall has seen a summer sun in 90 or 100 years. Somebody built this thing. Someone like you or me with hardend calloused hands. I wonder what it was like for him back then? And I wonder what ever became of this person? 

JUST_A_BROKEN_STONE_WALL

Chorus:

Just a broken stone wall on a little strip of land

Between the north and the south-bound lanes.

Is All that remains of the dreams of a farmer and a family that left with out a name

A hundred or more a man with weathered arms

Wrenched a living from a granite studded field

He worked his family coaxing life out of the ground

While the seasons rolled above him like a wheel

Chorus:

The years spun away with a clatter and a whistle

Of the steels rails rolling to the west

And a land that was richer and a land that was flatter

Called the farmer and his family with the rest.

Chorus:

Now the stone wall remained to shepherd trees again

To cover what the farmer tried to make

The ivy and red-maples returned from their vacation

To hide gray and granite mossy snake.

The farmer and his family became another tale

Another lesson each generation learns

Whatever man has made will always some day fade

We came from dust to dust we shall return.

Chorus:

I was heading to Manchester back in the 90's to attend a Cursillo retreat team meeting when God said..."Son, I have a song for you."...or words to that effect. So I pulled over at the liqour store rest-stop before the Hooksett tolls and wrote the thing down on the back of a scrap of paper.

Chorus:

Walk with Him

Talk with Him

Stand at the foot of the cross

With Him

Drink His wine 

Eat His bread

And remember the words that he said

The rock rejected

The stone cast aside

Betrayed by a kiss

And three times denied

He wore a crown of thorns and 

Picked up a cross of wood  

I couldn't do that

Do you think you couod.

Chorus:

And yet He requires we follow Him down

Pic up the cross

And put on the crown

Declare His words 

Our whole life through

Jesus is counting

On me and on you to

Chorus:

A road trip in the early 1960's was the inspiration for this song.

Diesel smoke. Black on silver.

Red hot engine. Steel cold hands.

Tires a-hummin'. Airbrakes hissin'.

Don't marry me, baby. I'm a truckin' man.

Headlights flashin' through New England.

A week from now - New Mexico.

I seen death on the highway.

And Jimmy Hoffa's ghost is lookin' for my soul

(Chorus)

Snow and ice. Rain and fire.

Glassy highway. Glassy eyes.

This ol' boy won't retire.

Gonna ride this rig, honey, til the day I die.

(Chorus)

Pretty girls. Dime a dozen.

Honest women are hard to find.

Gonna be alone most of my lifetime.

Ride this old rig to the end of the line.

(Chorus)