MotherJudge

LISTEN

"It's like Prince and Lowell George invited William Kennedy over to jam." - Casey Seiler, Times Union.

LOOK

Photos of the usual suspects at the "Best Damn Open Mic" taken by Jean Luc at Tess' Lark Tavern Dec. 6, 2007, for TheHiddenCity.com. More at Flickr.

LYRICS

There's a party going on at Tess'
Every Wednesday night
Of the "Best of" hers is The Bestest
Mother Judge's Open Mic

If you need a drummer I betchya Candlen can
You could have Mitch on guitar and Albie on bass
And Sten will add some flava on mandolin
They gonna wreck the place

Or Mr. Brodeur can be your one-man power trio
He plays guitar, bass and drums at the same time
He's in twenty-nine bands so yours will make an even three-oh
But his review may call you out for your lame rhymes

There's a party going on at Tess'
Every Wednesday night
Of the "Best of" hers is The Bestest
Mother Judge's Open Mic

In the back of the room there is chatter
That Rosanne will show or even Powhida
But when Mother takes the mic nothing else matters
It's all about: Sweet Caroline

And Mother Judge's Open Mic is like open arms...

Yes she welcomes you with open arms tonight
But when she opens her mouth she don't need the mic
A voice loud and proud like her beauty mark
It's calling past the bar, out the door of the Lark
They hear it across the street in the Lionheart
It's giving Moses the chills up in Washington Park
Down Madison past the old Palais digs
Steamrolling past Eliot and Silda's crib
The voice of heaven, the song of God's daughter
Over 787 to the Hudson waters
And the Hudson's love takes it all the way down
To New York City Manhattan Town
This voice so pretty it lifts like magic
Over New York City where they wish they had it.

Where did our scene go?
Where can we sing our songs?
I think Annine knows.
She says: "Mother Judge has had it all along."

But will it be worth it?
Will it be as good as I remember it?
It's making me nervous...

And I know that the antidote to my suburban loneliness is just a few miles down Delaware to her society of urban holinesss - where Mr. Bob Buckley knows every song written since 1965 - where Mr. Troy Pohl is going electric tonight - where Ms. Abdou is up on the TV screen coming in live from the other side of the world via satellite - where Mr. Sevayega rolls in to rock at 1 o'clock a.m. he's on C.P. time.

But for this here crazy hair four-eyes brace-face big black behind havin' semi-retired from the music so-called business thirty-somethin' somethin' pushin' forty union webmaster by day husband and daddy by night chilling cold chilling free to be put in a cage livin' in the acoustic soul rock 'n roll capital of the world - a.k.a Delmar... it's just a 14-minute drive -

- To the party going on at Tess'
Every Wednesday night
Of the "Best of" hers is The Bestest
Mother Judge's Open Mic.

BT and MotherJudge. Photographs by Luanne Ferris for the Times Union "Best of the Capital Region 2007."