Rarities & Unreleased

And then, in the Spring of 2020, did they find themselves trapped in their own domiciles. Hunkered in their houses, huddled in their hovels, hiding in their homes. They had hoarded their toilet paper, learned to pronounce new words like COVID and Wuhan, they could now properly spell quarantine on the first try. For the first time in a very long time, they thought having a case of Corona was a bad thing, even with those little lime wedges. They had rewatched all the seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation, and found themselves struggling with a new sexual awakening, brought on by repeated viewings of one Commander William Riker. They begged for some good news, some sweet release; from their mayors, their governors, their senators, their President. Each request was met with a negative, or a positive that they knew should have been a negative. You know how that goes. The immediate future looked bleak. They turned to the place they had always turned for comfort, to the smooth styling and rich wit of Uncle Walter. And there they found what they sought. A warm blanket on a cold night. A cold beer on a hot day. A homecooked meal and a handjob goodbye. There they found peace and there they found joy and there they found hope. Except of course they didn't. Take a look up at the top of the page. This is the Walter Becker Media Site. You know, the place for the guy who "sang about the good bad and ugly, and all and everything in between." So we're giving you a song about the Apocolypse, or at least the post-apocalypse. A hellscape...no, that's too harsh. A heckscape full of toxic suburbs and golden ghettos, petrol slicks and triple killzones. And wandering westward through the wasteland we find a trio of academics with their spouses...

Boom Baby

Walter Becker and Larry Klein

© 2005/2019 Zeon Music LLC,  Strange Cargo/Downtown Music Three half-wise professors co-ed wives in tow

Putting up the sled now to the flatlands we must go

Searching for salvation following that star

Cross the purple plains of fair Amerika

Down in that golden ghetto Cal-i-forn-i-ay

These are the toxic suburbs that once was San Jose

Must be almost there  now, can’t be very far

Which way to the lost Messiah our reluctant avatar?

Boom baby boom baby where are you?

The whole round world’s turned black and blue

Wake up tomorrow what you gonna do

Laugh baby cry baby boom baby where are you?

(Boom baby where are you?

The whole round world’s gone black and blue

Wake up tomorrow what you gonna do

Laugh baby cry baby where are you?)

Ah say can you see from miles away

Wading through the petrol slick at Half-Moon Bay

Ah so sorry that you can’t come out

And see for yourself what this brave new world is all about

Fanned out in concentric circles in dustbowl brown

The triple killzone running round the old agro town

Froze in fatal shades of biochemical surprise

Globally warmed-over for your unseeing eyes

Boom baby boom baby where are you?

The whole round world gone black and blue

Wake up tomorrow what you gonna do

Laugh baby cry baby boom baby where are you?

(Boom baby where are you

The whole round world gone black and blue

Wake up tomorrow what you gonna do

Laugh baby  boom baby where are you?)

Wandr’in through the files down where the ugly truth was hid

Before that info shitstorm fractalized the entire grid

Sifting through the ruins, what’s it gonna be?

Intellectual deprivation,  virtual unreality?

Holed up in the numbers the aborted d-base runs

Between the empty zeros and the lonely ones

Conspicuously absent, set off in silhouette

He must be here somewhere we just haven’t got to yet

Boom baby boom baby where are you

The whole round world gone black and blue

Wake up tomorrow what you gonna do

Laugh baby cry boom baby where are you?

(Boom baby  where are you

The whole round world gone black and blue

Wake up tomorrow what you gonna do

Laugh baby boom baby where are you?)