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BIG AS LIFE

by HAMELL ON TRIAL

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  • Hamell not only records music, performs live, does independent writing, he also paints. All of the images below, and many you see as the accompanying artwork on the digital releases, are Hamell paintings. These vary in size and price, but are all acrylic on canvas. Hamell paints scenes inspired by the 'underground' and 'disenfranchised' of our society. Ed uses bold and bright colors in his paintings which contrast the darker subject matter, championing the underclass, drawing you into the characters he depicts, endearing you to them and sparking emotions one might not anticipate.Hamell is also available for specific painting commissions. For serious inquiries to purchase Hamell original art contact Emily at hamelltv@gmail.com
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1.
SUGARFREE 02:30
I wanna know what you got to say...Don't dilly dally give me right away...I'm looking for truth there's nary a trace, it's all candy coated and right in my face...Give it to me..Sugarfree!! Give it to me...Sugarfree! Let those words fly from your lips! ...Take out your pistol shoot from the hip... I'll try to take it best I can, it might make me a better man... Give it to me..Sugarfree! That Irish Girl she's got you bummin' that Irish girl she's sayin' something to me.... Open up and let it blow... I got a minute tell me all you know...you're gonna lose me dealin' with fashion, you're gonna win me dealin' with passion..Give it to me Sugarfree!!
2.
HARMONY 02:56
HARMONY I like shooting the breeze and hangin' with you guys, chewing the fat, while the time flies, conversations of variety are the conversations that appeal to me but way too occasionally the creeping negativity female talk exclusively sends me on an exit spree. I ain't no holier than, trying to make an effort the best I can, if my record ain't spic and span a daily improvement is in my plan. You see she's my woman and I'm her man, a combination much stronger than all the buying power in Japen all the pumped up muscles of a he-man. She...is to me...Harmony. Got to count my blessings, they talk stuff that so distressing, they plan their escape, making to the other party things are ship shape, I speak of her, I talk high, revel in the glory that implies, she's my teacher, she's my friend, on reciprocation she'll depend, hot stuff shape, jet black hair, look at all them models stare, charmin' witty digs my jokin' in everybody's business you do not find her pokin', holds her own, holds mine too, that chatter does not concern you, I say a prayer to the Lord above give it thanks for her love and... She...is to...me Harmony. When I was a little lad I had a talk with my dad he said 'Son, I've watched you grow, and my observations you should know, if your love it won't be sorry you must know your inventory, you see you ain't good lookin' and you ain't real bright, clothes are tacky no money in sight, 18 jobs you've been fired, let's face it lots to be desired, yet it's inconsequential, maximize your lovin' potential, be always faithful, love her strong, give her affection, help her along!' Good ol' dad he saw my charms, I think about him fondly with my baby in my arms.... She...is to me...Harmony.
3.
BLOOD OF THE WOLF When he was 15 years old, already balding, thin basketball etched frame continuously, nervously banging against a box only he could see my friend Frank robbed a Kentucky Fried Chicken with a fork. He courted the girl that worked there on her 'off' time...her girlfriends thought she was 'way off ' to go out with a boy that talked like an electric circuit and they had it all worked out except she must have got cold feet on the day of the robbery because she called in sick. At three o'clock in the afternoon in the 85 degree blue collar melancholy sun, disguised in his brother's red and yellow striped wool ski mask and armed with a stainless steel fork and fifteen years of Catholic Italian longings, Frank ran into the Kentucky Fried Chicken on the corner of Butternut and Lodi and finding no one behind the counter he yelled to the two people sitting at the booth eating their original recipe breasts, “Everyone hit the deck!!” and they looked up at him and they laughed. The manager sauntered oh too casually out from the backroom, and this time Frank screamed again, this time slamming his fork down so hard on the counter that he cut his own hand and the three people saw the blood and the unrelenting fierceness in the eyes behind the ski mask and they knew he was serious. Through the dusty and streaked plate glass window passerbys could easily witness three people huddled on the ground and a masked Frank, fork gripped in midair as he jammed down the register button, grabbed $214 and left. The first time he told me this story was 15 years later on a blustery evening, we were broke down in the sub-zero snow this side of the Canadian border. That lonely orange U-Haul squeaking with every jet of northern icy wind provided a refuge in it's cab for 8 hours. Me and Frank in the front sharing cigarettes and later end butts and flannel shirts that had been discarded in earlier months summer days.. “C'mon you snakes!” that sun had called, “shed those skins!” to lie forgotten behind the seats but now taken out and used as blankets and stuffed into door cracks to guard against the razor chill. After a few hours and the boredom peaked and the conversation snowballed and turned heated and sillier and confessional and redeeming and Frank told me about his Italian grandmother, how she would stare at his carved body, every inch of which was covered with a thick rug like hair, and she'd shake her head Sicilian serious and she would moan in broken English, “Blood of the Wolf! Blood of the Wolf!' In that truck Frank threw back his head and howled with laughter. Then he told me how he robbed a Kentucky Fried Chicken with a fork and I screamed with laughter, “A fork! A fucking fork!” so hard I almost got warm for a few minutes. When they found us eight blue bone cold chill hours later I was half asleep but Frank was still doing imitations of his boyhood hero, AC/DC's Bon Scott, yelling “And they made it out...with a BULLET IN THEIR BACK!: across the Canadian snow. That was eight years ago, Frank drives for somebody else and I moved to Texas. We couldn't make a go of our business in Upstate New York and the bank repossessed our truck. Last night, as I was headed to the CD player, I thought I heard that truck outside beeping. I rode in that truck for half a decade, I'd know the sound of it and Frank's loud impatient black coffee and V-8 juice horn blasts and I was ready to ride. But when I went to the window, there was no truck. And as my eyes scanned the Texas horizon, I thought I saw running behind the trees... a boy...he was wearing a ski mask...he was holding a fork.
4.
Hey Brother Franklin do you wanna go, down to the festival? Hey Brother Franklin do you wanna go, down to the festival, Brother Franklin, do you wanna go? They don't care how you wear your hair, I heard Rosalee'd be there...I smell peppers in air, I will pay the taxi fare, to the festival...do you wanna go? I've got money from last night, I lost you during the fight, couldn't find you to give you warning, you didn't come back until the morning, Brother Franklin, do you wanna go? All my life I looked to you, admired all those things you do, you took me under your wing, said you's teach me everything, Brother Franklin, do wanna go? Tonight's the night for dance and fun, there's no need to bring your gun, leave it in it's hiding place, there's no need to show your face, brother Franklin, do you want to go? All this hatred and revenge, I feel this life's not my friend, the morning bus I'll catch and go, but tonight we'll do, the festival... Brother Franklin, do you wanna go? Brother Franklin, do you wanna go?
5.
BIG AS LIFE 05:35
Temper temper little cloud, I thought we were in this together. I gotta another 30 miles to go and you change your mind like the weather. But I know how it feels though with that blinding lightning flash, I'm all alone now but I got my guitar, let's think about some stuff we can smash. I slept last night by the side of the road I was thinking about the nearest phone. I was wondering if she would accept the charges, I was wondering if I had a banana for a backbone. Then I had a dream about Count Basie but he didn't want to talk to me, he had a lot of hurt in his face he had a copy of LIFE magazine. It had Elvis on the cover, it had an article inside it didn't say who it was written by. Closer inspection I noticed Albert Goldman was still writing and LIFE wouldn't let him die. Well Count Basie opened up that magazine to page 30, he threw at me and he walked away, I said, "Oh man, that's Count Basie, he's like my hero, I had so many questions there was so many things that I wanted to say" but after ten glossy pages of big LIFE magazine format people holding guns and smoking crack I stepped back from that magazine and my mouth flew open because all of those people were black. I used to work in a bar in Syracuse NY and we had what we referred to as an 'incident' most every night. There were drugs sales, there were guns but all of those people were white. True story, I pulled a pregnant girl out of the bathroom one time she was in there just over an hour, people were complaining and she was smoking crack...and she was white as snow, she was white as blow and she was most definitely not black. And I think Count Basie was just trying to point out that if I wasn't careful I might fall into a trap because take a look at that magazine, am I on acid or what but it appears to me someones getting a bad bad rap. Page 26 and 27 there was a Sony ad, a white family hanging by the swimming pool. Couldn't see the mother's reflection in the water, she was holding the video camera, what color was she well now let's not be a fool, so there you go and it's Big As Life and Count Basie he don't want to talk to me, Miles Davis never rang my phone off the hook and I'm not anticipating any phone calls from Spike Lee. Roger Manning says something about hatred and being any color and being not but as i look around this whole big world, not just this room here tonight or any room in this building, building on this street, street in this city, city in this state, state in this whole big world it's blue, baby blue, that's the color we all got. Temper, temper little cloud I thought we were in this together, I got another 30 miles to go and you change your mind like the weather...but I know how you feel though with that blinding lightning flash, i'm all alone now but I got my guitar, let's think about some stuff we can smash. lets think about some stuff we can smash.
6.
PEP RALLY 02:56
Mama get your quilting, Daddy get your gun, I heard it on the TV, there's gonna be some fun. Everyone will be there except the ones that ain't, know we'll hunt them later and cover 'em with paint. Don't let them know you dawdled, won't do to dilly dally, they get so damn rambunctious, there at the Pep Rally.... They'll be selling T-Shirts, beer mugs at the shrine, I've been clipping coupons, I know my secret sign, they'll be giving classes, I want a franchise, they'll be going global, try that on for size, fall in for the roll call, peaceful in the valley, everyone's your buddy, there at the Pep Rally. Fall on your knees to the light on the pole, give it a squeeze or there's no parole, say pretty please, relinquish your soul.... Jimmy had a nightmare, 'bout a giant bird, pecking all his flesh raw, screamed but no one heard, weeks above the city, shivering in the rock, after Jimmy's torture, the bird rejoined the flock. He crawled down from the nest, got collared in the alley, they don't dig deserters, there at the Pep Rally. All bleeding blisters that are inside, miracles come later, first tan your hide, all real requests will not be denied, there at the Pep Rally!
7.
Z-ROXX 02:54
Band, band, band band I don't give a fuck about your band band band band I don't think you really understand, you're bland and oh so second hand, man oh man oh man. Chew, chew, chew, chew, my ear off talking about you you you you get a buck and try and buy a clue, you aren't Husker Du, you ain't even Motley Crue, oh man it's sad but true. And go and Xerox someone's life and put your name, a big man at the bar your claim to fame-Xerox someone's life and put your name... One one one one uncommon idea before you're done for you unique is a phenomenon, your ego weighs a ton and there it blocks the sun my little simpleton... And go and Z-Roxx someone's life and put your name a big man at the bar your claim to fame Xerox someones life and put your name!
8.
I had to leave the circus, a stand-in for the skunk, the elephants were dying and the clowns rip roaring drunk, I hid out on the highway until I made the town, I asked around where could I stay but no one made a sound.. I queried the town crier, I asked 'Whats wrong with your throat?' He cracked a smile said ' This here's the style...this is the Dead Man's Float!!' I was desperate to get hired, I built a cardboard house, I had a guest named Friday, a fine specimen of Grouse, we met with silence for a job, they thought I was a looter, I hustled tips, I got a deal on a second hand scooter. Me and Friday we left that town with his beak he carved a note, said Had to Run, Had Too Much Fun You Can Keep Your Dead Man's Float! We pressed across the U.S., Lord knows that desert's tough, endless seeking for a home 'til Friday squawked 'Enough!" The city lights were blazing the noise was deafening, at last some conversation, we could stay there 'til the spring! Then I heard a megaphone blast a chilling quote, it said, "Silence please get on your knees and dig, dig, dig the Dead Man's Float! The Dead Man's Float...how easy it would be...but not for me...
9.
PICCOLO JOE 03:57
PICCOLO JOE What do you know? It's Piccolo Joe! They call him that 'cause he's high! No time for fun, there's work to be done, doing the deals on the sly... And the bullshit will cease, the bartender's greased, basically he's got the run, he ain't real vocal, but any local, knows where they can cop some. They belly over, like calling out “ROVER!”, everyone's ears on the perk, He says, “The house is on me”, and anyone can see, he's putting that bartender to work! But wouldn't you know, every “Thank You Joe!” has got eyes for whats in his hands? His wallet is bulging, a point worth divulging, a temptation for many a man, But here is a fact no one will act because in seconds they'd be less than a hoot, Guarding that loot, there in his boot, Piccolo Joe is just itching to shoot. He pays for the round and then settles down to a table way in the back, He quiets a thirst and waits for the first, nibble his bait will attract. Courting a monkey, see, Bobby's a Junkie long since forgotten bashful times, “What are you, a fool? I'll hit you with a stool!” See, Joe ain't dealing no dimes... But to show he's big hearted, and since he got Bobby started, he'll turn him on to a line, But no he don't want to buy his leather coat, What are you, asinine? They head for the john, now the party is on, now several boys got to pee, A coincidence, but they commence in the hopes of catching a buzz for free, See, it's Friday night, and if all goes right, I've seen as much as $1200 go down, Some cop and run, they're in it for the fun, they don't want to be seen hanging round. But some stay for the show 'cause you never know, what's gonna happen or when, Someone gets busted, someone gets lusted and tomorrow we do it again. I never heard more talk of the “Big Score' than I did hanging round that bar, Everyone's motto was “Fuck The Lotto” a drug deal is surer by far. Joe had to wait 'til they were dry Upstate, then he told them he was their man, I've seen him in brawls, I knew he had balls, but I was surprised when he bagged 30 grand. He did it all clean, nothing was seen, no one ever fingered the source, you gotta dig, they must have been big, the rest had been chump change of course, He walked through the door, barely touching the floor, by his stride I knew he had the dough, His usual cool, was overruled by his pride having moved all that blow. The money went down and after four rounds he bought bottles from under the bar, Then he and The Monkey, a two bit flunky went downtown in a new rental car. Joe's appetite for ladies of the night was usually satisfied by a local with the jones, But with all that cash, and all that head stash, why not some professionals they could chaperone? He got three with a call the five of them in all checked into a swank hotel suite, The door was triple lock, the coke was turned to rock, they were literally smoking between those sheets. Up for three days, in all kinds of ways, Joe and the Monkey slept to a cocaine lullaby, The girls saw their cue, grabbed the bucks and flew but not before Joe opened one eye, He reached for his gun, but before he was done, one of those ladies grabbed a .38 from her purse. A shot to each head, left them both dead, Joe and the Monkey would leave in a hearse. Everyone's take on Joe and the Monkey's wake was that it was tastefully short. Amidst the gloom, high in the men's room, Junkie Bobby snuck out for a snort. And what we must face, we'll all be replaced, and quicker than we might like to think. There's a business to be had, by some enterprising lad, this Friday if he's buying all the drinks.
10.
Teach me, reach me, you can see me comin', you can start your bummin' in the market...now I'm small time, you can block out rhymin', you can keep on climbing as you bark it. And you would and you would and you would if you only could, drop by anytime that you're in the neighborhood. Send me, trend me, on a mission paling, destined for to failing from the start, beat it cheat it, block it with some intake, never hear the rib break near my heart. And you would and you would and you would if you only could drop by anytime that you're in the neighborhood. Assorted daughters, pat you on the back, tell you you don't lack no savoir-faire. striving, diving, straightening your tie you don't meet my eye 'cause you don't dare. and you would and you would and you would if you only could...drop by anytime that you're in he neighborhood.
11.
Open up the gates for her, hear the trumpets blare, a warm Miles Davis welcome, let her dance with Fred Astaire. Open up the gates for her, bring her Estee Lauder and pictures of her daughter and her only son, she'll want them. Open up the gates for her, she don't need no resume no credit checks today no references except mine. And open up your ears to her, she will teach you of compassion and she will help you fashion tenderness in time. Don't lose her in paperwork or files, don't shuffle her along with phony smiles...'cause I've lost faith in even you... Open up your ears to me, though I'm no man of great renown, I've got no weight to throw around, and perhaps I'm headed down... But if I hear she's been ignored, deprived of her reward, heaven hath seen no fury, like a son that's scorned...be forewarned... Open up the gates for her, wider, wider, wider and see the love that is inside her....
12.
I'm an odds and ends man, I'm a player and a fan and I just want to get in the game. I got my research down, I ain't no painted clown, I know the difference between happening and lame. And there's many things I'll do and I won't feel the fool if it'll help me get better at my trade, there's a reason why a look from George Forman's studied eye makes a younger man grow afraid. I ain't no hack, I will dye the clothes black of Johnny Cash if he needs me, and though it ain't right, I'll run prescriptions in the night if a stomach ulcer bothers Jerry Lee. Seek out raggae for Keith, cop Ziggy some reef, help Emmy Lou sweep the hall of fame, respect ain't no crime, my ears are open all the time, and I just want to get in the game. While dreaming I acquire the repertoire of a liar, I ain't above it, you know how it goes. It was a quintet when the men and I met that day at Sun Studios. I looked Elvis in the eye, I said listen here guy, there's something that I think is important, when you open up to sing, instead of copying Bing, maybe try Big Mommy Thornton. Patted Carl on the back and almost got sacked checking out Jerry Lee's cousin's tush. Thought they would fold when I got bold and said Mr. Phillips any buttons I can push? In a southern drawl that made my skin crawl he said, "Kid, what is your name?" Well smiling all the while I said, "Hamell on Trial, and I just want to get in the game!" I never took a vow, an oath is implanted now, I drink the brew of tirelessness. Here in my blood, generations flood and only make my fire restless. And hey it's alright, though sometimes at night my head gets the better of me. And hey, it's okay, though sometimes during the day I can't see the forest for the trees. But I still get a charge and I still get it large when I hear something bold and new. And I respect all the work in the face of so many jerks that it takes for this new stuff to get through. See, some want the money, some want the honey, the limousines the benefits of fame, but me I'll keep learning and me I'll keep burning 'cause I just want to get in the game.
13.

about

Let me see if I can reach back in my memory and tell the story of this album that was so pivotal in my career. I grew up in Syracuse New York, an extremely conservative blue-collar town. I had tried to parley a marginally successful all-original band which I was the key figure for, (The Works), into the national spotlight to absolutely no success. After 7 years of 300 one nighters a year, the band dissolved and I tended bar in one of the toughest drug and violence fueled saloons in the city's rapidly disintegrating North-side. I was writing songs for what I anticipated my next band to be. I got a call to participate in a benefit for a local music photographer who was dying of cancer. I agreed, and though I had never performed solo before, nor did I own an acoustic guitar, I borrowed one and did my first ever solo gig, calling it Hamell on Trial. This moniker really was an inside joke, I figured this would be a one time deal, my peers would be scrutinizing my very amateurish performance, (hence the 'trial'), and I was desperate to distinguish myself from singer songwriters in the James Taylor vein. After my show I was approached by Greg Spencer from Blue Wave Records who offered me a record deal. After 7 years of trying my ass off and nothing, and one gig of not really giving a shit-I got my first deal. That record resulted in a vinyl only release, 'Conviction' and both the name and operating solo stuck.

The record didn't get the national attention that we were hoping for, my wife was doing her undergraduate work at SUNY Albany so we moved. I got a job waiting tables and more importantly a steady Wednesday night at at a joint called The Halfmoon Cafe, pass the hat, a big night would be 20 in attendance and for two years I crafted my show. There were even less places to support myself through music in Albany, Greg Spencer brought me down to Austin to look around and my wife and I moved there. The battle plan was to get another steady gig and a higher profile record deal, she would do her graduate work.

Austin was thriving both musically and economically at the time. When I first got there you could do a couple of open mic nights every night of the week, quickly getting my name around town. A new venue, The Electric Lounge opened. It had film early evenings, a huge spoken word and Slam community and then later indie rock bands. I knew that if I could secure a weekly spot between the poetry and music it would be ideal. I pitched the owner Mark Shuman heavily on the concept. He went for it and I started to build an audience.

I had done a cassette only release in Albany that I used as both a demo to secure gigs and for sale. It was titled "Letter to Mike". It really had been a letter to my good friend Mike Eck who wanted a recording of my show at The Halfmoon, and I started a letter, played him the gig, realized after that this was the best representative recording of me and somehow it got into the hands of Jeff Cole who was starting a label called Doolittle Records. He came out to see me play a few times at The Electric Lounge and finally signed me. He said he'd produce.

We rented a warehouse space above The Electric Lounge borrowed some tube mic pres, I think one 8-track ADAT, (I could be wrong, it could have been two strapped together but I don't think so) and every day, from about 10:00 AM until 10:00 PM we would record. We even borrowed and set up a huge PA system, (with these fucking incredible JBL 18' sub-woof cabs) to get the exact sound I was performing with. This is what you're hearing in Sugarfree and Harmony. I think it was 10 weeks then went to the Berklee School of Music in Boston and mastered it.

We released the record originally through Doolittle Records. I got signed to Mercury Records on the strength of a SXSW performance by A & R man Peter Lubin. they rereleased the album with absolutely no changes except for the cover. My wife, a little homesick for New York, suggested a move to Brooklyn, she would complete her graduate work there, I would be closer to the major label. I was on my way.

The reviews were over the top. Sales weren't. But it provided me the opportunity for national touring that I had never had before. I did tons of road work, crossing the U.S. several times, playing a lot of venues that continued to play for the next 15 years.

credits

released October 7, 2013

Produced and Recorded by Jeff Cole.
Mixed by Carl Beatty at Sound techniques, Boston, Mass, assisted by David Kirkpatrick and Marc Verney.
Mastered by Greg Calbi at Masterdisk, New York
All songs Ed Hamell except Folsom Prison Blues-J.R.Cash
Additional musicians: Susan Voelz played violin; Brian Wolf played horns, Matt Stuart did the sampling and Jeff Cole played bass and keyboards.
Frank Harkin designed the cover. Jill Greenberg took the photos.

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HAMELL ON TRIAL Austin, Texas

Hamell on Trial is loud, fast music informed by politics, intelligence and a wicked sense of humor.
1995-Mercury Records-Big as Life, The Chord is Mightier Than the Sword.
1997- Choochtown
2003-Righteous Babe Records-Tough Love
2005, Songs For Parents Who Enjoy Drugs.
2007-“The Terrorism Of Everyday Life,” (Edinburgh Fringe Herald Award)
2012-New West Records -The Happiest Man Alive.
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