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Lucy D is the type of tune he was spooling out pretty much right along. For songs like these, he often composed the melody and lyrics on the fly, as he free-sang along with his looping "track" (you can tell from a "flub" that he was lamenting about Chelsea D for a while). A song like this could  fall together with head-spinning speed.  We spent a fair amount of time trying to soften the unfortunate snare sound he used; this was as far as we got. Given the limitations of a one-track recording, you can’t always heavily manipulate one sound without introducing distortions elsewhere — in this case, the vocal. He never went any further with this tune, leaving Lucy D to wait in the low-hope holding room along with a little crowd of other spontaneous one-take characters: spurned lovers, careless hearts, treacherous party-girls, post-apocalyptic wanderers ….and the occasional earnest poet. Lucy D Walter Becker © 2018 Zeon Music LLC Scoping out the street for my heart’s desire Bust out burning like a house on fire Baby oh baby, come and go with me Breaking out the whack for my beatnik queen Urchin in the back of a limousine Trouble, sweet trouble coming down on me I got trouble, big trouble with my Lucy D Hears about a party but you never know Where’s it gonna go tonight Painted ladies in a pony shack Kamikaze with a hemlocked back Buddy, somebody come and rescue me I got trouble, big trouble with my Lucy D Fellow at the bar says do you win It’s deja vu baby all over again Buddy, yo bubba it’s a travesty Every little tale that you told before You and what army, what world, what war Fraternizing with the enemy I got trouble, big trouble with my Chelsea {sic} Lucy D Broken hearts stretching in a bloody line All the way from hell and gone Such a pity you can not relate One true story in its natural state Buddy, oh buddy, can you cover me I got trouble, big trouble with my Lucy D

hold it, hold it...

On the night of September 2nd last year, I was at my twenty-year high school reunion. Connecting with some friends I hadn’t seen since we graduated back in ‘97, we talked about kids, jobs, husbands and wives. We talked about classes and teachers and a few friends who couldn’t make it because they live too far or work too hard or died too young. We looked through our senior yearbook, laughing at haircuts long out of style or made impossible in the present by the very real threat of male pattern baldness. Outside of my senior portrait, which they forced us to take in tuxedos for the boys and dresses for the girls, one thing is common in the three or four pictures of me. My high school friend Lanessa asked if I watched the show “The Goldbergs,” because she thought I was the embodiment of the character Johnny Atkins, the saxophone playing, responsibility shirking, smart-ass kid with long hair and ever present RUSH t-shirt. Except in my case, it was Steely Dan. There’s something to that. And it was more than just the shirts. An Alive in America promotional poster was on the wall of my bedroom, next to the Dexter Blows Hot and Cool and Shaft posters. Anyone that received a mixed tape from me could expect a Steely Dan song or two to be thrown in there. Girlfriends grew to love (or at least begrudgingly accept) that they would be hearing this music in my car. And a fair portion of my wardrobe was indeed Steely Dan t-shirts. Those shirts were special. They separated me from the other black t-shirt wearing populace of my high school in a few ways. This wasn’t Hanson or the Spice Girls (both of which had Number 1 hits that year). This wasn’t Nirvana or Pearl Jam. This wasn’t even Led Zeppelin or The Beatles, retro, but safe. For me, Steely Dan was cool, and not in an “even though your dad listens to it” kind of way. For me Steely Dan was cool in a way that transcended boundaries. My dad listened to Steely Dan AND Steely Dan was cool. Maybe it’s because I was a nerd. I was in Academic Honors classes. Shit, I was on the Academic Decathalon team. I wasn’t cool, but Steely Dan, who spoke to me and in a voice that I could pretend was my own, absolutely was. When I woke up early on the morning of September 3rd, the day after my reunion, I learned that Walter Becker had died the night before. It isn’t often that the smartest person in the room is also the coolest person in the room. But when Walter Becker was in a room, that was almost always the case. He was effortlessly funny in a way that was equal parts assurring and intimidating. He was smart, genius level smart, but self-assured to the point that he seldom felt the need to show you how smart he was. He was creative, with a legacy nearly unmatched in popular music. And he was kind. Those shirts I was wearing in all those pictures in my senior yearbook? They had arrived after the ‘96 tour, along with a promo copy of the Citizen Steely Dan box set, with a little hand written note that simply read: To Matt, Yo Walter It is strange that anniversaries carry so much weight. One would think that a year passed since a tragic event would hurt less than 8 months, 6 months, 4 months. But today it is brought real to me again that Walter Becker is gone. Over the course of the last three hundred and sixty-five or so days I’ve thought often about what that means. I’ve written a few times about Walter and my connection with him, however tenuous. Between the Hey 19 Raps archive and the Walter Becker Media Project and a few written pieces here and there, I’ve tried to say something about my musical hero. I don’t know if a year has made it easier or harder. I just know that I miss Walter. I don’t think I’m ever going to say any of this in a way that is satisfactory to me. I don’t think I’ll ever think I’ve said enough. I don’t think I’ll ever think I’ve done enough. It isn’t my job, though, to prove that Walter was a genius. That he was funny or smart or kind. Walter did that. He left a legacy carved into to the lives of so many people. He wrote, he played, he produced, he sang. I can throw on Aja or 11 Tracks of Whack or Circus Money and he’s still there, speaking to the man pushing forty the same way he spoke to the 18 year old kid wearing that Steely Dan t-shirt. Walter’s music meant something. Walter’s life means something. For whatever it is worth, those of us that got it, that get it, we’ll keep trying to explain to others exactly what it is. It’s the music. It’s the memories. It’s the man, Walter Becker. In words, in unreleased tracks, in html code, in street namings, in protecting a legacy earned and deserved. Thanks again, Walter. For everything.

(Surprise Piano Version) This extremely early rundown of Book of Liars by The 11TOW band [Adam Rogers (Guitar): Fima Ephron (Bass): Ben Perowsky (Drums): John Beasley (Keyboards): Dean Parks (Guitar)] is interesting on several counts, not the least of which is the peek it affords into the studio process . Walter enjoyed almost everything the band played as it emerged from their interaction, rather then from any strong a priori “instruction” he offered. The rule seemed to be: Let’s just play it. See what we see. It’s interesting, for example, to hear one of the first rundowns of this tune took on a sort of calypso vibe. Yet all the tracks invariably developed, changed —through a combination of the creativity and explorations of the musicians playing together, and the small, subtle shaping that Walter would occasionally offer. It’s probably too obvious to observe that the feel of the final versions as we all know them from Whack and Alive in America traveled quite a distance from this earliest rundown. The 11TOW recorded version of this song has also long inspired speculation a’plenty about that rather unique keyboard solo. Here, on one of the earliest rundowns — and with only the above musicians in the room — we hear what might be its etiology. The quasi-comic conducting Walter would often exercise is in evidence here — “big piano passage”….then “Piano solo. Surprise piano solo!” (sandwiching an expression of juvenile gun-lust). A playful response follows, and that we hear a “yeah” during the staccato playing leads one to suspect the die on this one was cast early on; there was just something about that general vibe of this early keyboard part that he wanted preserved in the recorded version. We'll leave it to the listener to hypothesize who did or did not play the recorded solo or, at the very least, from whence its inspiration sprang. We see it springing right here. Then there’s “Fima’s got it” as a few players seem to momentarily lose their bearings in the unfamiliar chart….and of course the wonderful end-talk about different ideas for “the bridgy kinda thing”….and, well, from 5:14 out…that’s our Walter all over, isn’t it? Hope you enjoy. D-Mod P.S. Speaking of Book of Liars: Don Breithaupt's band Monkey House released a new album TODAY with their own cover of Becker's Book of Liars! You may know Don from previous Monkey House albums or from his insightful look at Steely Dan's Aja album for the 33-1/3 series. "As a lifelong Steely Dan fan, Walter's death hit me hard," said Don. "I thought it'd be a nice gesture to do one of his." The new album, "Friday," also features the talents of Steely Dan musicians Michael Leonhart and Drew Zingg. It's a damn fine album, and it looks like listeners agree—"Friday" is currently sitting at the #1 spot on iTunes' Jazz charts. Congrats to Don and Monkey House! - Matt

movie: matt kerns She Was Good Words & Music: Walter Becker 1992/2018: Zeon Music LLC Hey there Janie girl You’re looking good all over Sashaying your way on down that luggage line Yes a sight beyond compare Lookin at you standing there So glad and happy just to be a friend of mine Jumping in your little white car Screaming down the I-280 There’s that Golden Gate Shining like a string of diamonds This Bay City just rolls on and on and on That’s right — you told me twice You want to pick up something nice To help this evening last way past the dawn Hang a left at Chinatown Ready for the 3-flight walk-up Maybe I just rest my eyes on you a while Dressed up like you are In nothing but your Sunday smile Good — she was good — good for nothing Nothing but that one thing, as far as I could tell That was enough to believe in And all else is forgotten Maybe just as well. And I know Janie girl This whole world’s gone crazy When the cops pick up a fine young thing like you Yes I go your bail The check is in the mail You’ll find my heart out in that mailbox too Special delivery girl so Handle it nice and easy You don’t want to meet my mom You don’t want to have my baby You just want to kick and scratch And party all night long What we got is God’s own buzz Guess that’s all it ever was Love is only skin deep girl So how could we go wrong Better than it is right now Not in a month of Sundays This could be our shining hour I suppose So come on girl let’s get it on Before this bathtub overflows Good — she was good — good for nothing Only just her bad self Was all I’d ever know That was a lot to hold on to Hard enough to handle But harder to let go Hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now baby Hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now baby

Walter introduced me to some great recordings of indigenous peoples of Africa that were pretty wonderful . We could listen to the fascinating rhythms (and sung melodies) for hours. {listen to a sample here}. In the early 90s Walter made a track inspired by the Ituri forest Pygmies. No samples in his track, however; it's a simple loop made by hand and includes a haunting voice component. Here's the result. (Common sound issues on this one abound, so to “best” hear all the track components, listen from the Download) Kudos to Matt Kerns for the amazing slideshow Danger Zone Walter Becker © 1993; 2018 Zeon Music LLC Well you're a long time coming On this Rocky Road to Hell The friends you meet they're oh so sweet you know they wish you well But then the miles fall behind you and you're standing all alone 
 Now that the truth is known You come here on your own You’re sinking like a stone boy Down in the danger zone Down in the danger zone You know your eyelids tremble your tongue goes cracked and dry You come on tough you play your bluff seems like it's worth a try But that smile you're still smiling well it gives the game away 
 Now that the truth is known Your cover has been blown You face the end alone boy Down in the danger zone Down in the danger zone 
 You wake up laughing at a joke you can't recall You just got time to drop one dime too bad you smoked them all You leave your wallet on the table and step on through that door 
 It’s time to roll them bones Into the great unknown Accept the truth your shown You take it for your own You face the end alone boy All in the danger zone

OOOO-eee Love to hear Walter stomp and romp on this one. Great energy. He’s like a kid, just playing. Okay, a kid with an uncommonly deep voice…but he seems to be enjoying himself no matter what the register. THREE PICTURE DEAL Walter Becker / Larry Klein © Zeon Music © Strange Cargo/Downtown Music 2008 Here she stands in the doorway Her face is framed in golden light With creamy thighs and bedroom eyes Call it “Urchin With an Appetite” My favorite shirt — my terry towel A bowl of cherries in her hand It’s breakfast and some headshots That she’s bringing for her brand new man It’s a one — it’s a two — it’s a three It’s a three picture deal I said a one — it’s a two — it’s a three It’s a three picture deal Her new house on the hillside Some blocks above the Sunset Strip The yoga den is megazen The vibey lighting ultrahip She’s gushing on her cellphone The trainer’s on eternal hold Producer X is talking film But the bottom line is solid gold With a one — maybe two — even three Yes a three picture deal Yes it’s a one — even two — or a three Yes a three picture deal Well she’s leaving in the limo She’s sorry but they’re running late The night is here — the big premiere It’s “The Lady and the Reprobate” Now a man like me should never be Where a man like me does not belong But I know they’re gonna need a soundtrack I know they’re gonna need a song For the one Two Three Three picture deal

WALTER BECKER & LARRY KLEIN movie: Matt Kerns Gene: Page: Door: Somebody’s: Upside: Deal: Downtown— these were some of the names on CD labels and tape canisters while Circus Money was being made. Every song — from the music charts to the tape on the mixing board — was known by an abbreviated name only. The reasons and history behind this longstanding convention — and some of the unexpected, Keystone-Kops effects of violating it — would make for a fairly amusing story we could tell about the 2vN era, and perhaps some day we will. But hold on — what’s this — other names? on other labels: Building: Mayor: Mouse: Lucky: Lucy: Danger: and more! They didn’t make the cut. Ouch. And perhaps oddest of all, you find one apparently called “Couchies” We posted the demo for Couchies way back in April. When you superimpose a melody on some tracks, their character changes rather dramatically, because the melody isn’t really echoed, particularly, by the harmonic structure of the track itself. We felt this was true here. What do you think? Take a listen to some of your favorite musicians, playing along with Walter’s scratch vocal, on Couchriders in the Sky Stay wait: Couch, um, ride um, Huh!? For those not old enough to remember quasi-novelty songs from the mid-century, you might want to look it up. Except it wasn’t Couches anybody was riding. Burl Ives; Gene Autry: Johnny Cash — it was a classic. A brief word about vocals. Oooooo so tempting to apply just a touch of auto-tune….just 3 notes!? Can we? Should we? We learned the plug-ins, we tried them out, we tweaked and leaked, squinted and squirmed, we wept, we prayed, we microlistened…and then… … we took all autotune OFF. That’s what you’re hearing today; Walter’s uncorrected naked scratch vocal. This issue will become more relevant soon enough: Pitch, especially holding it steady for long notes, may not have been WB’s forte; it is in fact the forte of very few singers, even among the accomplished. But any honest listener of the contents of this site has to admit that Walter was a much better and skillful (natural, uncorrected) singer than usually given credit for. I mean….c’mon people! Re-listen if you need to. And if you’re still not down with it, we’ll be coming for your secret decoder ring forthwith. But the point, Watson, the point is this: Walter was not inevitably disturbed about an off-pitch warble in a woking vocal. For one thing, a career with Fagen utterly schooled him on the concentration, experience, and practice required for strong, steady vocals in the studio or on the stage. So for Walter, his vocal limitations were just facts, not failures. Certainly an observer wouldn’t find the tsk-tsking, the averted eyes, the oh-dear-that-was-terrible head-drop. Walter took for granted —rather sanely, it seems to me — that informal and non-perfected vocal sessions were just gonna be….informal and imperfect. But there was a particular type of self-perceived “weak” singing that did bother him; it was a voice that, given the choice, he would largely keep to himself. As we move deeper into the stacks, we may have to make some hard decisions, and leave some DATS in their cases. But there’s nothing terrible about “hard” decisions, if one’s respect for all Walter has given us will tamp down that impulse for more,, more, more — no matter what. But later for that! For now, enjoy Becker/Klein’s Couchriders in the Sky! (Thanks again to Uber-mench Larry Klein , a blessing to our boy in every possible way, plus 10). Couchriders In The Sky WALTER BECKER & LARRY KLEIN © 2007/2018 Zeon Music LLC and  © 2007/2018 Strange  Cargo/ Downtown Music (ASCAP)   This is no Grace Line tour This is no Disney ride No hipster buccaneers Wait on the yonder side This river's fast and wide This water cold and deep And there's no place for you Where stones and fishes sleep Spliff and chalice Chalice and spliff Oxi's and dexi's Like dragon's teeth I know what happens And you do too You seen the rushes On the pay per view and Yes We are leaving In the morning For the afternoon and more Say good evening Say goodbye Couchriders Couchriders in the sky And who goes on this boat I guess we don't know yet We see through low-res eyes In dusky silhouette This couch is long and low The bolsters warm and deep And there is room for you Where kings and counsellors sleep Switchblades and matches And black cat bones Spacecones in batches And casing stones The headland’s rising And don't you know As up above so is it Down below and Yes We are leaving In the morning For the afternoon and more Say good evening Say goodbye Couchriders Couchriders in the sky Vocal, bass- Walter Becker Drums- Keith Carlock Electric piano - Ted Baker Piano - Jim Beard Guitar - Jon Herington Producer: Larry Klein Engineer: Elliot Scheiner

The date before the long dash. Today marks 69 years from the day Walter was born, and 1 year to the day of the launch of our first walterbeckermedia.com track, Were You Close Today: Since then, we've shared seventeen tracks, lots of pictures, many stories, and a lot of love. There's More To Come, but today we're just going to pat ourselves on the back and nod appreciatively as we look back at a year's worth of data: you all streamed 42 days of Walter Becker outtakes on YouTube alone...not even counting plays on this site and a lot of downloads. None of this would exist if it weren't for you. Walter said time and time again, to audience after audience, that he KNEW he had the best fans in the world. Everyone of you that has come here, show up for a street naming, told a friend about Circus Money, downloaded a new track, posted in the forum, or pulled out that old Steely Dan album and given it another spin has helped to keep the memories we share of Walter fresh. Thank you. It means more than can be expressed here. We'll also do the thing we do every day. Miss the man. Last year we commemorated Walter with a new song, and there will be more of those in the days and years to come, but today I'm going to throw on 11 Tracks of Whack, follow it up with Circus Money, and appreciate everything Walter gave us.

Walter's first solo album 11 Tracks of Whack, was released on September 27, 1994. Reflecting on the 30th anniversary of 11 Tracks of Whack feels both like reminiscing about an old friend and discovering something new each time I revisit it. It takes me back to the summer of 1994, when my dad gifted me a pre-release copy, earned as a thank-you for his pledge to WUTC, our local NPR station. For a kid raised on Steely Dan, this album was something else—rawer, edgier, more primal. My girlfriend at the time, who had no interest in Steely Dan or Donald Fagen’s polished solo work, loved 11 Tracks of Whack. This became a pattern with future girlfriends, each more drawn to Becker’s raw authenticity than the slick, cerebral veneer of Steely Dan. Walter was always the id to Steely Dan's superego. Meeting Walter in 2000 on the Two Against Nature tour and recounting the story of receiving that pre-release copy felt like coming full circle. His dry chuckle at my story and his quip that "90% of the copies people had were pre-release" was classic Becker. It was that same humor and irreverence that threaded its way through his music, cutting straight to the truth, no sugarcoating. And once I came to terms with the fact that Walter's voice wasn't the one I expected, it turned out to be exactly the one that I needed. Walter’s choice to step away from the Steely Dan sound for 11 Tracks of Whack was intentional. He didn't want the album to be "Steely Dan without the singer from Steely Dan." The music had its own identity, distinct from what had come before. Songs like "Surf And/Or Die" are as emotionally resonant and brilliantly written as anything Becker and Fagen ever created. Jon Pareles of The New York Times nailed it when he wrote that Becker's album revealed "who put the edge into Steely Dan." Walter’s jagged voice and jaded characters were all his own, and once you adjusted to hearing his groan instead of Fagen's smooth croon, the brilliance of 11 Tracks of Whack became unmistakable. For me, 11 Tracks of Whack wasn’t just music—it was a turning point in how I understood Becker’s contribution to the partnership, a realization that his sense of humor, his sharp edges, his proficiency in making the utterly unexpected sound absolutely perfect, and his ability to cut through the bullshit were crucial parts of the magic that was Steely Dan. And as I listen to it now, all these years later, that same feeling remains. It’s still raw, still id-driven, still Walter. And still god-damned brilliant.