Little Red Corvette (Prince Cover)

Little Red Corvette MP3 by Van Gumby

MASK (Acoustic)

Mask by Van Gumby

Pledge allegiance, swear your covenant

All things equal, all the money spent

Love, the message we're afraid to send

All of the people you never see again

Out by the dumpster on a Friday night

Oh when I kiss you under neon light

Love, the message I'm afraid to send

Are you a person I'll never see again?

Out on the corner pissed it all away

Oh in a gesture that said you couldn't stay

Love, the message you're not trying to send

I'm just a person you'll never see again

What does it matter? I don't even care

I'm not the kind to wallow in despair

Oh but the question I'm afraid to ask

Am I still a person underneath the mask?

Because I Could (DEMO)

Because I Could (DEMO) MP3 by Van Gumby

Ein Tasse Kaffee Bitte

Got my 1st real 6-string

Summer of '69 MP3 by Van Gumby

"Self-Control"

Self-control (Blog Version) MP3 by Van Gumby

She took all my money

She left a note it said, "Honey,

I never was too big on self-control"

So I left that City, my pockets full of self-pity

And I made my way back to my Southern Home

Self-control, we were not meant to know

We were not meant to keep our love restrained, oh no

She took all my money

She left a note it said, "Sonny,

You'll never learn or better yet you may"

Self-control, we were not meant to know

We were not meant to keep our love restrained, oh no

Self-control, we were not meant for it

We were not meant to kiss with our eyes closed

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

We're not so different, you and I,

We each fight for our loves and we fight for our pride

We're not so different, you and I,

We each fight for our loves and we fight

-Asa

I. Welcome to "Do You Believe in Jazz?" – Asa van Gumby's blog

RAISON OUTRÉ

Through good times and bad, I follow the mode. I follow the mode constantly, and with religious fervor. Up and down spiral staircases in Londonium, back and forth across bridges and time. One night in Breukelen, centuries ago, I chased the mode clear across the East River. "May the wind be at your back." It was what the graffiti said. I pissed off the Billyberg bridge. I thought about climbing over the fence and then right up to the top of the bridge and look down and think sick thoughts and think lovely, lonely thoughts. I looked out and wrote songs in my head. People look at me and don't really see. You know, I was really heartbroke in that time. I had to go home and maybe leave it behind forever or at least a good long while. The songs I wrote became things to protect, like children. And all around the iron town, people just didn't care about children. Then suddenly I look down and all I am is just a guitar with legs and, by God, I'm just too proud. There wasn't no money and the street filled with shit and a dead cat. My bed was so cold. I singed my eyebrow lighting a cigarette on the stove once. I came home covered in vomit. The walls were too thin. You heard sex noises. The Dominicans could stare daggers. Text messages announced drug deals. I lost friends to activism and the ice-cream dealer kept ungodly hours. They say the wind’ll cut right through you because it does. But you know, once I spent the afternoon watching the Metropolitans out in Queens and Christ Jesus it was a beautiful day, so cold and clear and you could look out forever in every direction from up there with your nosebleed and sat shivering drinking ten-dollar beers and I guess I must’ve had me a ten million-dollar smile.

-Asa

Demons Volume I. by Van Gumby