We’ve loaded the player with lots of new stuff. Lyrics below, player above. Listen away…

Water’s Never Far is a chronicle of David’s 2008 trip to Cleveland to play at an event called Gathering Stateside. Buck’s ability to paint pictures with a dobro is in clear evidence here. David freely admits that naming a make of automobile in a song has been an ambition since he played Little Honda at a factory Christmas party somewhere in the dark corners of the Twentieth Century.
WATER’S NEVER FAR
Diving cross the border in a Honda in the sun
The river and the sky an equal blue
Though I’ve been on the road a while, this journey’s only begun
She hands the passport back and I am through
And now I’m crossing counties that have names I’ve heard in song
Bridges keep the highway smooth and straight
And the signs beside the highway seem to nudge me along
Telling me I’m in another state.
Steel wheels, asphalt, rubber in between
Mile markers burn clicks away
I see towns and trees but water’s never far away.
Coming into Cleveland in a bit of rain
I can see the river’s not on fire
And I begin to worry that I’ve been mislead by a song
Lured by dreams, driven by desire
And then the sun comes out and I turn south away from the lake
On the phone a voice I recognize
And though the signs along the river won’t prevent a mistake
Rocking boats don’t always capsize.
Steel strings, wood stage, human in between
Voices that raise the cafe
Rain drums on the roof and water’s never far away.
At the hotel again, watching CNN, and
Water’s lapping at their doors
People curse the silt that feeds the land.
We’re living on a floodplain where the water has its way
You can’t hold back a river with your hand.
Steal hearts, share songs, life is in between
I drove home the next day
Eyes on road ahead but water’s never far away.
Words and music by David Partridge

Healer Of Hearts is proof that a song can change its spots over time. The early version of the song could be described as bombastic, desperate, big or possibly all of the preceding. The COMETS’ version is smaller, more resigned even hopeful. Buck plays acoustic guitar and lap steel and David covers the rest.
HEALER OF HEARTS
You know who I am: the next one in your eye
Maybe like the ones who hurt you
But you’ve got to try. ‘Cause
No one can say that the next slim chance isn’t
Where the lovin’ starts
You’ve been lacerated by love
But I may be your healer of hearts.
You remember them by how hard you’d cry
Try to make the feeling grow but
It would always die.
You try to forget all those bitter times
Searching for the sweetest part
Bruised and abandoned by love
Longing for a healer of hearts.
Hold me close this time lover
Let it last this time lover
Wrap your hands around my heart.
‘Cause you know who I am: just as burned and bruised
Wanting to love long and sweet but always being used.
But no one can say that the next slim chance
Isn’t where the lovin’ starts
I am a loser in love
But you may be the healer of hearts.
You are a loser in love
But I may be the healer of hearts.
Words and music by David Partridge

A Little More Than Me is based on a dream David had. Hence, the first line. But somewhere on its journey it became a love song, albeit an unusual one. Buck plays acoustic lead and David sings and plays rhythm guitar and keyboards. Our pal singer/ songwriter Dolores Dagenais picked the title out of the finished lyric. Thanks, Dol!
A LITTLE MORE THAN ME
I dreamed that I could sing like Randy Meisner.
I dreamed I could compose like Gershwin could.
I dreamed that I could play like Pinetop Perkins
And coax some magic from the wires and wood.
If I could act like Phillip Seymour Hoffman,
I would not act the foolish way I do
If I could only be a little more than me for you.
If I could write as well as William Wordsworth–
Define the soul with paper and a pen,
If I could paint the way that Paul Gauguin did,
I’d prob’ly never watch TV again.
If I could dance like Kelly or O’Connor,
I wouldn’t stumble through the way I do.
If I could only be a little more than me for you.
Aretha and Corman and Frances McDormand
And Lowell George, that’s how I want to be.
I worship, I covet but much as I love it,
I cannot find the John Coltrane in me.
I wish I could direct my life like Altman
Or see the best the way that Capra could.
I’d love to make things move like Harryhausen
And breathe life into clay and wire and wood.
If I had my own rhythm like Bo Diddley,
I’d beat it ’til the dancers all turned blue.
If I could only be a little more than me for you.
If I could only be a little more than me for you.
Words and music by David Partridge

Must Be The Radio is a tune of Buck’s that combines a great hook and sage observation of the late night world of the gigging musician. David sings lead and all of the guitars are El Buckeroo.
MUST BE THE RADIO
Streetcar rumbles through the night
Strangers hide their souls from sight
A blaster plays a new, familiar tune
Shadows flirt like a hooker’s skirt
The music soothes but the message hurts
Your eyes are just reflections of the moon
Must be the radio
Must be the radio you hear
Must be the radio
You never were that clear
Your guitar case against the seat
Yesterday’s news crumpled at your feet
The silver rails behind you like a tail
A lyric’s running through your head
You’ll take another song to bed
But still you hear that old, familiar wail
Must be the radio
Must be the radio you hear
Must be the radio
You never were that clear
Words and music by Robert “Buck” Wilburn

Unloved, Undone aspires to sketch a picture in the mind’s eye. It started with a small, observed moment in the lobby bar of an upscale beach hotel and before the night was over, it was a song about misery in paradise.
UNLOVED, UNDONE
See these pencil lines I’ve made?
A little light but mostly shade.
It was simple at the start
Then you add another part
It gets darker with each pass.
See this heart the scribbles make?
That’s the shape of my mistake.
Pretty soon it’s like a map
My whole world sketched on a napkin
From under my glass.
Unloved, undone,
Unravelling in the sorcery of the sun
Called by the sweet forgiving sea
I’m not who she expected me to be
Awake and numb, what’s to become of me?
See the sun in front of me, falling slow into the sea?
Not so far back when I came to this paradise by plane
I arrived from that same sky.
You know the glow that sunsets bring? I can’t feel a blessed thing.
But the sun soon leaves you blind and the ocean’s only brine at the edge of an eye.
Unloved, undone,
Unravelling in the sorcery of the sun
Called by the sweet forgiving sea
I’ve just betrayed her trust so easily
Awake and numb, what’s to become of me?
This is not my dream, no, this is not my home.
The parts that aren’t marble are certain to be chrome.
I tried to make amends but I’ve only made a mess.
I saw it as she stormed off, in her eyes, I confess
And in the flutter of her dress.
Unloved, undone,
Unravelling in the sorcery of the sun
Called by the sweet forgiving sea
I’ve fallen short of what I ought to be
Awake and numb, what’s to become of me?
Words and music by David Partridge

Angry Words is a song Buck and David have performed in a previous band but, truth be told, they never felt that they got it exactly right. This version is the one. The COMETS in full howl.
ANGRY WORDS
Angry words on the wire
Tattered tempers on the phone.
If I believed every word you said,
Sitting in this room alone…. (I’m so alone)
When I break the connection
With a word said in haste,
Just a twist of the sweetest lips
Leaves a bitter taste.
I can’t hear her voice.
I don’t like the tone.
Hanging on for nothing but…
Angry words on the wire—
What a cruel game to play.
Just how ruffled can my feathers get
Before I’ll fly away? (I’ll fly away)
Like a mallet of the handle;
The receiver hammers down.
My heart stops when the cradle rocks,
Died in anger born of sound.
I can’t hear her voice.
I don’t like the tone.
Hanging on for nothing but…
Angry words on the wire,
Accusations on the phone.
You know I smiled when I first dialed,
Sitting in this room alone.
I can’t hear her voice.
I don’t like the tone.
Hanging on for nothing but…
Words and Music by David Partridge

The L.A. Man is part homage to California culture but also a critique of the belief that any single factor keeps you from your dream. David has been to Los Angeles many times but suspects that any dream, in its pure form, lives only in the imagination of the dreamer. David sings and plays acoustic guitar and keyboards. Buck plays the song’s signature lap steel and sings harmony.
THE L.A. MAN
There’s a man in a room where the frost grips the window
And the stars nail the night to the sky
And he stares at the pines but he’s dreaming of palm trees;
Stars seem to be in his eyes.
He was born where it snows but he lives for the summers
And he wishes there was nothing in between.
When the present is pale he envisions his future
In some place that he’s never been.
He’s the L.A. Man, the California Kid
But Canada’s cooling him down.
If he could just make his way to the city of angels.
He could catch fire in that town.
Summer days in the cars, summer nights in the canyons.
It’s a dream but it’s never in doubt
‘Cause he’s heard every song, he’s seen all the movies,
So he knows what he’s talking about.
It’s the infinite beach, it’s the long endless summer
And he’s swallowed every word that they say.
He’s just Hollywood starved for the garden of Eden
Just geography stands in his way.
He’s the L.A. Man, the California Kid
But Canada’s cooling him down.
If he could just make his way to the city of angels.
He could catch fire in that town.
Sweet L.A., the singers say,
The skies that never rain
But when the sunburn peels away, the face is pale again.
He’s the L.A. Man, the California Kid
But Canada’s cooling him down.
If he could just make his way to the city of angels.
He could catch fire in that town.
Words and Music by David Partridge

The Guardhouse And The Moon is a song/vignette about two childhood friends parting company when one joins the armed forces. It’s an older tune of David’s but sadly, its relevance is intact. This take features a stripped-down “live” feel and showcases the COMETS’ acoustic side including some fine guitar work from Buck.
THE GUARDHOUSE AND THE MOON
The fall seemed so much colder than it should
Like summertime was shipping out for good
Beyond the gates, the base was sentry still
An icy moon hung just above the hill
No matter what I lose, there are 3 things
I won’t forget so soon–
I will remember my best friend, the guardhouse and the moon.
He searched the sky, I stared down at my feet.
He slid his brand new suitcase ‘cross the seat.
He couldn’t find one star in that whole sky
I realized I wasn’t gonna cry
No matter how much time and wisdom
I have poured into the wound,
I still remember my best friend, the guardhouse and the moon.
The best of friends at childhood’s end know
When they’ve come too far
He held onto his orders and he got out of the car.
The moon was silent in a frozen sky.
I meant to say good luck, I said goodbye.
I was the last to speak, he shook my hand
But somehow he was first to understand
No matter where he hauls that suitcase,
He will always call the tune
On nights like this when I drive by
That guardhouse in the moon.
Words and Music by David Partridge

Something Blue is a lurching, bluesy song about impending catastrophe. David sings, plays harmonica as well as keyboards. Buck plays electric guitar and dobro. Buck thinks David should play harp more often. David thinks this is because guitar and dobro solos are hard work. We leave the final word to you.
SOMETHING BLUE
Something blue is coming, mama
Gather up your precious things
Something wants your riches, baby
Pluck your pearls and palm your rings
It can even dim the brightest star
With the tarnish that it brings.
Something blue is coming, mama
Empty as the deepest hole
Something dark is drawing nearer
Feel its shadow on your soul
You will lose your memory of the light
When this darkness takes its toll.
Something blue is coming, darlin’
Taking trouble to extremes
It will leave your sleep in tatters
Sprinkle poison in your dreams
It will make you feel when you’re awake
Just the way a nightmare seems.
Something cold is coming, sugar
Better tuck your shirt tails in
Something blue is coming, lover
Sees your nakedness as sin
You can’t turn this suitor from its path
With the velvet of your skin.
Words and Music by David Partridge

What The River Has Seen was partially written by a window with a view of the Ottawa River. The trees, the rain, the sailboat and the bridge were all there. What was not was Buck’s lovely guitar part and David’s strange, otherwordly percussion. David also sings and plays rhythm guitar.
WHAT THE RIVER HAS SEEN
On the river today there’s a lone soul out sailing
I stand almost motionless arms on the railing
Sails go slack and bow. I’m rudderless now.
There’s a current below and a light at the summit
I stand on the bridge where a lost soul might plummet
Too strong or scared to die, I choose to walk by.
I came down to call on the river
Ah, but needless to mention, it paid no attention to me
It just murmured and rolled, with its stories untold, to the sea.
I’d be content to dream half of what the river has seen.
On the river today the wind seems to be weeping
Its voice in the treetops could keep you from sleeping.
Eaves dropping again, I thought it was rain.
But when I reach the window, I see I’m mistaken.
I lean on the sill now that sleep is forsaken.
I hum the river’s tune and waltz with the moon.
I came down to call on the river
Ah, but needless to mention, it pays no attention to me
It reflected and lapped, all its secrets intact ‘til the sea.
I’d be content to dream half of what the river has seen.
Every time that the waves dip and dance glistening
Drenched in moonlight or bright sun
How I wish I could be someone that you love.
I came down to call on the river
Ah, but needless to mention, it pays no attention to me
As it faltered and rose, with its tales undisclosed, to the sea.
I’d be content to dream half of what the river has seen.
Words and Music by David Partridge

Clandestiny is a swampy piece about fate, deception and self delusion. Or so David thinks. Others think its about the cool Buck guitar lick. Additional admirers have praised the groove and the “Middle Eastern” horns.
CLANDESTINY
You think that you’re invisible but I know where you are
Parked just off the shoulder, lying in an unmarked car.
You’re so certain that there’s no one that can see
The windows are all misted and the mister isn’t me.
You think that you control it. You think you’ll see the bullet.
It’s fate that swings the hatchet baby you’re the tree.
You say I’m a martyr but you’re no smarter
You’re just another vessel of clandestiny.
You’re moving and you’re shaking so it must come as a shock
You’re hanging by a sinew and the weather makes you rock.
Last night had lightning but with morning here instead
You’re colder but no wiser with a puddle in your bed.
You think that you control it. You think you’ll see the bullet.
It’s fate that swings the hatchet baby you’re the tree.
You say I’m a martyr but you’re no smarter
You’re just another vessel of clandestiny.
Somebody knows. You’ve said too much.
You leave a trace of ash on everyone you touch.
You think that you control it. You think you’ll see the bullet.
It’s fate that swings the hatchet, honey, you’re the tree.
You say that I’m a martyr but you’re no smarter
You’re just a leaky vessel of clandestiny.
Somebody knows. You’ve said too much.
You leave a trace of ash on everyone you touch.
Words and Music by David Partridge

At Least There’s Tomorrow is David’s favourite song of Buck’s. As a matter of fact, he jumped at the chance to sing it. It is unique amongst its compositions in its harmonic structure and reinforces Buck’s breadth as a songwriter.
AT LEAST THERE’S TOMORROW
Who’s that stranger at my door;
Stumbled in from the rain
Thought at first it might be me
But I’d never change that way
Or go out in the rain
Now I see your face my friend;
There’s no one looks like you
Glad to see you’re back again
Even though I told you I
Was through with your game
And there’s no one tries like you
No one saves their lies like you
No one hates goodbyes like you
So I say, “Hello”
Seems I’ve always taken sides
And always with my foes
Guess I just don’t realize
Someone likes me after all
For what I am
And there’s no one tries like you
No one saves their lies like you
No one hates goodbyes like you
So I say, ‘Hello’
Words and music by Robert “Buck” Wilburn

Abandoned Highway is possibly Buck’s favourite song amongst those that David has written. David plays piano and sings and Buck plays regular and high string acoustic guitars. The COMETS at their most evocative.
ABANDONED HIGHWAY
We used to be pretty good together
We believed we had a long way to go
But we don’t move in the same direction anymore.
We used to think the road went on forever
Just as long as the pavement was smooth
But looking back, I feel so foolish
In the face of the truth.
Standing by this abandoned highway,
It reminds me of you
Bleached and broken, with wild flowers growing through.
When a road slopes from the center
When the centre line falters and fails
When your journey forces you against the rails
When a road map flies out the window
When the asphalt burns up the gas
Who would think that wild white daisies
Would crack it like glass?
Standing by this abandoned highway,
It reminds me of you
Bleached and broken, with wild flowers growing through.
You know we can’t pretend, the jagged end
Was merciless and slow.
But ooo, what the years can do you know.
Standing by this abandoned highway,
It reminds me of you
Bleached and broken, with wild flowers growing through.
Words and music by David Partridge

Buck Wilburn is a talented songwriter but you wouldn’t know it from his song count on Bodies Of Water (Total tally: none!). Blood On The Horizon is one of his best. It’s a character song that draws its inherent menace from its single viewpoint on a multi-character story. Buck plays both acoustic guitars as well as lap steel and performs both of the harmonies. Lead vocal and all the sundry bits are by David.
BLOOD ON THE HORIZON
Another morning, the sun comes up;
Who’s that in my coffee cup
There’s a stranger there but I’ve seen stranger things
I pull back the curtains and look outside;
It ain’t raining but I know it tried
And somewhere down the road a siren sings
When the blood is on the horizon; I’ll be rising
And you know, you know, you know I’ll be yours.
I think I’ll hit the sack again,
Sunshine’s never been my friend
It sure looks like you weren’t here last night
I’ll make some calls before I sleep
And then I’ll dream ’bout love so deep
‘Bout later on when I can hold you tight
When the blood is on the horizon; I’ll be rising
And you know, you know, you know I’ll be yours.
You must know by now, you’re always coming back
And Baby, I’ll still be here when you do
Oh when that door flies open and I see you,
You know what I’m going to do,
Is make you glad that you’ve come home again
‘Cause when the sun goes down and the sky is red,
You’ll be lyin’ in my bed
‘Cause that’s the way this story always ends
When the blood is on the horizon; I’ll be rising
And you know, you know, you know I’ll be yours.
Words and music by Robert “Buck” Wilburn