Dig Deeper
From Adelaide, South Australia - 'Doctor DeSoto' unites experienced songwriters Mikey Green (multiple ARIA Award winners 'The Audreys'), Dave Pagano ('Gone To Earth'), Mark Lockwood ('The Milk'), and Mel Horsman ('The Martial Hearts', 'Highway 31').
Acoustic, tumbleweed tunes from the edge of town, alongside Polaroid pop with infectious vintage beats.
Call it what you will -
"The music explores a range of contemporary styles, yet there is this pervading sense of nostalgia – you feel that this is a band that has the ability to encompass all the good things about the sounds of another era in rock and roll. …. with instant likeability" - Wirra Creek Music
Dead Man’s Shoes
Hardly night
But hardly is your day done
Head is heavy with the worry and the heat of the sun
If you walk in a dead man’s shoes, you walk with the second hand blues
And you pull at the thread of yesterday’s news
In your dead man’s shoes
Walking ‘long
Wind drumming on the street signs
You might even hear a voice
In the wind chimes
If you walk in a dead man’s shoes, you walk with the second hand blues
Ever get the feeling that you’re drinking for two?
In your Dead man’s shoes
Bus ticket from Soho
Lyrics to Molly Malone
Funeral card of the last close friend
Directions how to get home
Coupon for a car wax
An Alamo souvenir pen
A six digit number for escort services
And a message to please call again…
Clueless, keyless, suit jacket, old cigarette
Through a cloud of Old Spice
Comes a real sharp vest
If you walk in a dead man’s shoes, you walk with the second hand blues
And you pull at the thread of yesterday’s news
In your dead man’s shoes
Ever get the feeling that you’re drinking for two?
In your Dead man’s shoes
And you pull at the thread of yesterday’s news
In your dead man’s…
Art To It
It’s something that you tell yourself
It’s something that you tell yourself, to keep from coming unwound
Yeah you tell yourself
That if I keep moving there’ll be no way they can bring me down
I tell you there’s an art to it
You’ve got to put your heart into it
Medicated sleep maybe
Bury things deep baby
If I’m fooling myself
So be it, I’ve got no-one else
Backing me, or ringing my bell
I tell you there’s an art to it
You’ve got to put your heart into it
Medicated sleep maybe
Bury things deep baby
It’s something that you tell yourself
It’s something that you tell yourself, to keep from coming unwound
Yeah you tell yourself
That if I keep moving there’ll be no way they can bring me down
I tell you there’s an art to it
You’ve got to put your heart into it
Medicated sleep maybe
Bury things deep baby
So I’ve learned to push on
Smoke and mirrors, beers and song
Walk the line, carry on
It’s something that you tell yourself
It’s something that you tell yourself, to keep from coming unwound
Yeah you tell yourself
That if I keep moving there’ll be no way they can bring me down
Yeah you tell yourself
It’s something that you tell yourself, to keep from coming unwound
Yeah you tell yourself
That if I keep moving there’ll be no way they can bring me down
I tell you there’s an art to it
You’ve got to put your heart into it
Medicated sleep maybe
Bury things deep baby…
The Chills
Do you remember the buzz of the new
The thrill of the cold air as it cuts right through?
Well I’m a curious man
I don’t remember what got you through
Was it a song that no-one else knew?
Well that’s good for you
But I just don’t get the chills, no more
Do you remember the buzz of the new
The thrill of the cold air as it cuts right through?
Well I’m a cynical man
I don’t remember what curled your toes
Was it a song that no-one else knows
Well that’s just how it goes
But I just don’t get the chills, no more
Did it make you jump
Hit you between the eyes?
I don’t remember but it sounds real nice
Did it light the corners
Of a dim, dark place in time?
Well that’s fine
But I just may be too far…
Do you remember the buzz of the new
The thrill of the cold air as it cuts right through?
Well I’m a curious man
I don’t remember what got you through
Was it a song that no-one else knew?
Well that’s good for you
But I just don’t get the chills, no more
Do you remember the buzz of the new
The thrill of the cold air as it cuts right through?
Well I’m a cynical man
I don’t remember what curled your toes
Was it a song that no-one else knows
Well that’s just how it goes
But I just don’t get the chills, no more
Did it make you jump
Hit you between the eyes?
I don’t remember but it sounds real nice
Did it light the corners
Of a dim, dark place in time?
Well that’s fine
But I just may be too far, gone.
Landlocked
Too many people, I just don’t go to town
Revolution, hangs like a cloud
Be my Saint Anthony for the lost and unfound
Walk me, ‘cross the square real slow
Talk me, through the vertigo
Walk me, ‘cross the square real slow
Talk me, through the vertigo
Landlocked in my own town
I have moments of clarity when nothing seems to bother me
And I get on alright
The sticks and the stones and the default on my loan
Don’t bother me at all
But then the wide open spaces
And the strangers’ crooked faces
They pull me back in to my piano and my gin, again
Too many people between me and the sea
And I’ve tried to live, chemical free
Be my navigator be my tail breeze
Walk me, ‘cross the square real slow
Talk me, through the vertigo
Walk me, ‘cross the square real slow
Talk me, through the vertigo
Landlocked in my own town
Government Crackdown
What you lookin’ at me for?
Don’t you hear it, the creaking of the neighbour’s screen door
Bending my mind out of shape and rattling my nerves
It’s the buzz of the high tension wires
It’s the smell of the brush fence fires
I made the call, and soon you’ll all be
Selling up, moving on
Still waiting for a government crackdown
Still waiting for the government
And if I can’t get satisfaction
I’ll bring it down
Rage against the sea and sun
I’ve invested two streets from the beach
Not one to suffer fools
But no-one takes my calls anymore
It’s a street of strangers and liars
It’s the smell of the brush fence fires
I made the call, and soon you’ll all be
Selling up, moving on
Still waiting for a government crackdown
Still waiting for the government
And if I can’t get satisfaction
I’ll bring it down
Oh I’ll bring it down
Oh I’ll bring it down
Oh I’ll bring it down
What you lookin’ at me for?
Don’t you hear it, the creaking of the neighbour’s screen door
Bending my mind out of shape and rattling my nerves
It’s the buzz of the high tension wires
It’s the smell of the brush fence fires
I made the call, and soon you’ll all be
Selling up, moving on
Still waiting for a government crackdown
Still waiting for the government
And if I can’t get satisfaction
I’ll bring it down
Red Hatbox
I’ve got a two room flat by the tourist strip
It’s not much to look at but it has a grip on me
I’ve got job prospects, yeah I’ve got time
And I’ve always got change for a cheap red wine or two
I’ve got one foot in the future, man
I’ve got my summers worked out
And my Fridays planned
But this red hatbox of letters
Some of them are read
Some best left...
I’ve got a favourite bar and it serves ‘til three
With a short walk home, that’s good for me yeah
There’s a lot of sweet faces and the coffee’s good
There’s not much I’d change if I could
I’ve got one foot in the future, you know
And I hear a lot of good songs, from the street below
But this red hatbox in the corner of the room
Is still unopened since the day I moved...
I’ve got a two room flat by the tourist strip
It’s not much to look at but it has a grip
I’ve got one foot in the future, man
I’ve got my summers worked out
And my Fridays planned
But this red hatbox of letters
Some of them are read
Some best left
I’ve got one foot in the future, you know
And I hear a lot of good songs, from the street below
But this red hatbox in the corner of the room
Is still unopened since the day I moved...
Breaking Wheel
You pick up the sell
You pick things up well
You pick up on the way the mood changes
You pick up pieces
And rearrange
Your vices
At least those that you can handle
Some with real potential
To get you nowhere but back where you began
So nothing’s changed
The more things change, the more they stay the same
You’ve been on the Breaking Wheel
So here’s your chance, to put in place
What it takes to clean the slate
To get you up and on the run
Living again
Looking to the front
Fire in the heart
Comet or a Cold Spell
Will I hear it ringing like a mission bell
Will it come like a comet, or a cold spell
See I’m no good at seeing the signs
I need a kick in the shins
And this four line rhyme
So give it to me one more time
ah, ah ah, tell me one more time
ah, ah ah, tell me one more time
Will somebody raise the flag
Do they tell you when it’s time to collect your bag
Will it float downstream from another place
With a note attached, they’re just too kind to tell you to your face,
ah, ah ah, tell me one more time
ah, ah ah, tell me one more time
Shake It On Through (He Don’t Dance)
If you, feel more at home in the sea
But your man is of the city and looks a little pale like me
If he don’t dance, and he don’t sing
And you’ve never seen him giving in
To what the music brings….
Put a little spice in his red beans and rice
Tell him there’s no reason not to play nice
It’s all in the hips and he’s got them too
He should take sip of courage and shake it on through
Dance it like a jitterbug king
The Samba or the Texas Swing
or whatever the music brings
Yeah he’ll catch on, if you walk him through
If he don’t move it he’ll lose it and he’ll lose you too
Cos you knocked back all those offers on the way to the bar
At least that’s what you tell him
If he don’t dance, and he don’t sing
And you’ve never seen him giving in
To what the music brings….
You got him started with a shuffle and a kick of the heel
Now you’ve got him rolling on all four wheels
There’s no stopping the man he’s got that gold tooth grin
All it took is a friend who knows how to spin
Now he’s dancing like a jitterbug king
The Samba and the Texas Swing
and whatever the music brings
Paperback Parade
She was known for cutting through red tape
with her old-fashioned bone handle knife
She opened a café, and the very same day
Put in a window to the west end lights
She was a magnet to the artists, the poets and the posers
And the yellowed paperback parade
She brought some wrought iron chairs, and her grandmother’s flair for
A recipe that couldn’t be named
Oh how they loved her
And they wanted her to be, to be the one
She kissed their heads and kept them fed and let them lay about
And dream big all night and all day
They loved the flick of her wrist
And the way she left so many, with nothing left to say
But one day she moved on, like the last verse in a song
There was a fear that things had come to a close
They asked around, they couldn’t see her
They began to think they’d dreamed her
From the pages, of this paperback prose
Oh how they loved her
And they wanted her to be, to be the one
But one day she moved on, like the last verse in a song
There was a fear that things had come to a close
They asked around, they couldn’t see her
They began to think they’d dreamed her
From the pages, of this paperback prose
They asked around, they couldn’t see her
They began to think they’d dreamed her
From the pages, of this paperback prose
(I heard they) Bottle It Now
If you hunger like a wanderer
Pushing shit uphill
Here in city, punch-clocks and D-pills
Lift your record needle, think you might have missed
Some kind of sign, while you were too busy
Getting pissed
Oh don’t wait
It won’t fall from above
I heard they bottle It now?
No, that’s some new kind of love
I heard they bottle it now...
You’ve been fooled again
If you hunger like a wanderer
Stuck on basement two
Here in the city with you
Same Friday crew
Lift your record needle, think you might have missed
Some kind of sign, while you were too busy
Getting pissed
Oh don’t wait
It won’t fall from above
I heard they bottle It now?
No, that’s some new kind of love
I heard they bottle it now...
You’ve been fooled again
If you hunger like a wanderer
Looking for a change
Here in the city, it’s too hard to gauge
Lift your record needle, think you might have missed
Some kind of sign, while you were too busy
Getting pissed
Oh don’t wait
It won’t fall from above
I heard they bottle It now?
No, that’s some new kind of love
I heard they bottle it now...
You’ve been fooled again
You’ve been pushin, pushin it uphill
If you hunger like a wanderer
You’ve been pushin, pushin
You’ve been pushin, pushin it uphill
If you hunger like a wanderer...
Lock and Key
Keep your sentimentals
Under lock and key
Light fingers, long legs
Don’t take your eye of me
I’ve got the skills to pay the bills
What I don’t got’s the degree
When moon replaces sun
My dog pack runs
And I get all that I need, I need baby
They told you not to to turn your back
They told me you would turn me loose
But love is not a one way track
And now, I’m under, lock and key
You forgave my sailor tongue
And contempt for everyone
Light fingers, long legs
I just left you crumbs
I’ve got the skills to pay the bills
What I don’t got’s the degree
When moon replaces sun
My dog pack runs
And I get all that I need, I need baby
They told you not to to turn your back
They told me you would turn me loose
But love is not a one way track
And now, I’m under, lock and key
They told you not to to turn your back
They told me you would turn me loose
But love is not a one way track
And now, I’m under, lock and key
Nowm I’m under, lock and key
Torchlight Song
So she woke one night
And left in the dark
Signed off with a stranger’s kiss
I know this scene, yeah I’ll play the man
In a low-lit film from a sun-starved land
Where the story and the light go hand-in-hand
She said;
I guess you won’t want it
But this could right the wrongs
Will you carry this torchlight song?
So the tea leaves told her to
Pick up the pieces and run
Who to blame, it’s the way we were
Packed her bags and her recipes
Took an apple from the neighbour’s tree
Took the train, but left her song with me
She said;
I guess you won’t want it
But this could right the wrongs
Will you carry this torchlight song?
But I’ve carried it far too long
So the tea leaves told her to
Pick up the pieces and run
Who to blame, it’s the way we were
Packed her bags and her recipes
Took an apple from the neighbour’s tree
Took the train, but left her song with me
She said;
I guess you won’t want it
But this could right the wrongs
Will you carry this torchlight song?
But I’ve carried it far too long
Yes I’ve carried it far too long
Sweet Potato Jam
Sweet potato jam
Sweet potato jam
Cane sugar, nutmeg and vanilla bean
Cinnamon stick, Grandma knows the trick
For two dollars you can see what she means
Sellin’ on the sidewalk
You should hear the neighbours talk
It’s the cure for all your ills
Eat it with a silver spoon
Under a full moon
Do away with all your pills
Butterscotch beer
Butterscotch beer
Brown bottles stacked on a greenhouse shelf
Grandpa makes the brew, but he won’t sell to you
Oh no he keeps it all to himself
Drink it on a rainy day
Keep it out the children’s way
It’s a purely medicinal brew, son
Drink it from a tin cup
A second one for good luck
Depending on your constitution
Sweet potato jam
Sweet potato jam
Cane sugar, nutmeg and vanilla bean
Cinnamon stick, Grandma knows the trick
For two dollars you can see what she means
Sellin’ on the sidewalk
You should hear the neighbours talk
It’s the cure for all your ills
Eat it with a silver spoon
Under a full moon
Do away with all your pills
Drink it from a tin cup
A second one for good luck
Depending on your constitution
Made To Order
Big voice in a little sea
She’s knocking them over
1,2,3
She’s a local kid who seems to have the key
With a face pure as mother’s milk
Motivational tapes and a voice to kill for
A worry to some, but she’ll come good, yeah
She’s gonna shake the tag of the difficult daughter
Cos if there’s one thing that the TV taught her
It’s that stars aren’t born, they’re made to order
Her father tells stories of Rita Hayworth
She doesn’t know who that is
Thinks he’s making it worse
He says the camera caught her shimmy-shake
And that’s what brought on the ‘Frisco quake
And Hollywood burns the ones that don’t break first
She’s gonna shake the tag of the difficult daughter
Cos if there’s one thing that the TV taught her
It’s that stars aren’t born, they’re made to order
