Randy Lee Riviere New Blue Mexico
Randy Lee Riviere
New Blue Mexico
Wilderness Records
Randy Lee Riviere started learning the guitar in the fourth grade. He also played trumpet in middle school and drums in junior high and early high school, because it hurt like hell to play the trumpet with braces. Then in his teens he went all in on the guitar, playing lead in various bands. Later on he took up the acoustic guitar as he started his songwriting journey. His songs grew with his experiences, as he writes about the truth. He states that he likes working with producer-songwriter Tom Hambridge, as they share many of the same influences and experiences.
Riviere plays guitar and takes all the lead vocals. He is accompanied by producer Hambridge on drums, percussion, and backing vocals; guitarist Bob Britt; keyboardist Mike Rojas; bassists Tommy MacDonald and Robert Kearns; and harmonica ace Michael Saint-Leon.
On the opening track, “Traveling Pastor,” Riviere sings, “I met a traveling pastor, out on a thirsty road, he asked if I been west, I said I had and he shouldn’t go, West the Pecos. Said he was looking for twisted souls. I said he’s in luck, they just diggin’ holes, West the Pecos. His name was LaSalle, he rode an ornery mule, he say Jesus is what he do, got heaven waiting on you. I say you don’t say? Right here today? Here there’s just killers and thieves, doing what they please, Jesus don’t live here, West the Pecos. He went to meet Judge Bean, the word of God was his means. To justify his rope, a scattergun was his yoke. ‘Vengeance is mine saith the Lord’, Bean said well, it was. It’s eye for an eye here Reverend. You gotta do to them, before they do it to you.”
On “Jersey Girl,” Riviere chimes, “All dimples and curls, got no glitter or pearls, no paint on her nails. She ready to rock. My Jersey Girl. She my Jersey Girl. In the Garden Road, our legend grow, in my 36 Ford, that know how to go. Me and my Jersey Girl, my Jersey girl. The windows are down and I’m cruising around, with my Jersey Girl.”
“Needles” features Riviere as he chants, “I’m standing on top of the world, standing on top of the world. I work all day and scheme all night, I got to get the ground to make it all right. We’ll have an ocean of cars waiting here for you, I’d have a notion for Mars if it would pencil out too. I’m standing on top of the world, standing on top of the world. And headed out through Needles, to light the desert night. Concrete is what I see, and great God’s holy water rolling out to me. We’ll get our swimming pools and you’ll see. My American dream is red, white, blue…and green.”
On “You Didn’t Get My Gun,” co-written with Hambridge, Riviere groans, “You took my son, my little girls too, you got my woman, stole my mules. You burned my grain, lit the barn too, stole my cattle, took my farm. You got nowhere to run, I know what you done, you didn’t get my gun…I’ll get it all back, that’s what I’ll do, I’m gonna crack, you right in two. We’re gonna leave you, where you lay, for what you done, you gonna pay.”
“Buffalo Blues” is another co-write, as Riviere moans, “Brother, It’s just you and me, still standing, as far as I can see…but I’m looking again, far and wide, under big sky. Remember when we run, their fat horses? Just for fun, then they brought more guns. Well, I’m looking again, far and wide, under the big sky. Hey hi, hey hi, hey hi, hey hi…Feel it in our souls, far and wide, under big sky, everbody see the wagons? Full of buffalo hides.”
On “May Day,” also a co-write, Riviere cries out, “It’s May Day, May Day, and I’m lost on a Pennsylvania highway. It’s a May day. A May day. It’s still cold, but thet say. Winter is done. This is where she was from, and she went straight home. Now she’s long gone. You don’t say? It’s the Amish hauling hay. On their way, working their own time. You gotta think darn straight, ain’t America great. It’s May Day.”
“My Old Man” features Riviere as he bursts, “He was a working man. My old man, was a drinking man, Now momma was all in, with the local Baptist clan. My old man, climbed power poles in hurricane winds, rain and snow. He never held back, from getting’ that overtime stack. Now Momma wanted that stack, I just wanted a baseball glove. Preacher come around, talk that sinnin’ man down. I said leave him alone. We just lucky he’s home. My old man, was a profane man. I learned my whole vocabulary, from him working’ on cars. If he didn’t know a word. He’d just make one up…Momma was old testament, spare the rod spoil the child, she’d swing a wooden spoon, like Babe Ruth. She was a heavy hitter. A power hitter…My old man, he was a drinking man. He didn’t think out load. He back in hell no doubt. Leave him alone. Let him drink, we just lucky he’s home. And we’re alive. My old man.”
On “Carolina Sally,” a co-write, Riviere belts, “His name was O’Malley, up from New Orleans. He loves this girl Sally, she a Carolina dream. He gotta know. He need to know. To go high, or stay low. He was a good Laddie. Eyes shine like the sun. But his momma and his daddy, drank corn whiskey and rum. Well, he gotta know. He need to know. To go high or stay low. Sally catch crawdads, with bacon and lime. She toss ’em in a bucket. They go one at a time. That boy he knows, yeah he knows. How High, high, he gotta go.”
“New Mexico” features Riviere as he wails, “The cold desert grass, ain’t gonna last. Yeah, it’s going fast. Down New Mexico. Down New Mexico. We heard the young women crying. Their young men were trying. So we run them hard. Down New Mexico. We run them hard. Down New Mexico. But Oh yeah I’m alive. Dear God I’m alive. I know you thought that I died. With such a short life. Had to make our own law, before they all fall. Ain’t enough grass for them all.”
On “Ghosts,” Riviere howls, “They tell us we can’t stay. Gotta leave today. And no one ever say. They’re sorry. Some went away. Died along the way. I decided to stay. We came up from the ground, never made a sound. Came down from the sky. We don’t ever lie. We hear what they say. It don’t matter anyway. Now we can’t be found, but we’ll always be around. Ghosts.”
“Cimarron” features Riviere as he confides, “Out here the fields roll on and on, and the tractors run after the days are done. Into the morning. Now out here on the Cimarron, there’s sun grass and grain. But out there on those roads I’ve run, there’s only fable and shame. But out here on the Cimarron, those roads end anyway. To Santa Fe this was the way long ago, and the river ran red if it rained up ahead. Gave life to the living…I will believe that I will be strong, but is heaven just another place, that I don’t belong?…The old trapper said you just might end up dead. Along that road, so do not stray from the team any day, or there’ll be trouble.”
On “Lighten My Load,” Riviere declares, “What a wretched road, I need to lighten my load. Ain’t no other way ahead. I got thieved and gators in my head…and snakes. Branches slappin at my face, I ain’t leaving no trace. Vines are grabbin’ at my feet. My heart’s been skipping the second beat. Lord, if I make it out alive. I’ll stand by your side. I’ll take your dip live, just get me out alive. Lighten my load, lighten my load. All the creatures that I meet, everything living gotta eat, and I know this to be true, no way I’m getting back to you…”
“Shiloh” features Riviere as he shouts, “Sun and Thunder, crossed the sky. Time I wonder, goes by and by. Blood and plunder, rode the wind. Down at Shiloh, could it happen again? Your kids, and your neighbors, cross the road, lines and boarders, they don’t really know. Their lives and their wonder, could never mind. Down at Shiloh, could it happen again? Fire and water, runs through your old veins, the times and the colors, just are not the same, tomorrow will you go back, see some old friends? Down at Shiloh, could it happen again?”
On “Bad Apples,” Riviere croons, “I tried, I tried, can’t decide…why, nobody cares about me. She cried, she cried, then she lied…still, nobody care about me. If you got bad apples, you gonna get the worm. I’m a work in’ man, I’m a work in man. I got a plan, still…nobody care about me. I get hard earned, bring home that hard earned. You’d think I’d learn, it don’t matter…no one cares about me. If you got bad apples, you gonna get the worm.”
The closer, “Comanche Plan,” is an instrumental written by Riviere.
Riviere has described his songwriting process as something he does not force. “I don’t approach songwriting, it approaches me.” His songs start with a chord, followed by lyrics that grow. In addition to his role as a wildlife biologist, he has served in the U.S. Army, worked on government drill rigs, and worked as an owner-operator drivin’ an 18-wheeler from sea to shining sea. He is all about the music.
Richard Ludmerer
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