Catalogue Number
Release Date
17th June 2016
Arizona: 1993-95
Disc 1 - Can O'Worms: 1. Panhandler / 2. Home After Dark / 3. La Pasionaria / 4. Who Needs More / 5. What A Day / 6. Expat. Blues / 7. Waterfall / 8. In Madrid / 9. Filipina Stripper / 10. Can't Get Through / 11. The Greatest. Epilogue-never released tracks: 12. South Of The Pyrenees / 13. What's The Use? / 14. Your Arab Friend. Disc 2 - Al Perry & Dan Stuart-Retronuevo: 1. Daddy's Girl / 2. Hermit Of Jerome / 3. I Could Run / 4. Little Slant Six / 5. Sick And Tired / 6. Better Than I Did / 7. Mamacita / 8. Eyes Of A Fool / 9. Empty Chair / 10. Lone Wolf
"I've made two solo records in my life, separated by 15 years. My contemporaries have made dozens, separated by mere months. I can't judge the merits of their work because I've heard so little of it, I can't judge my own because how would I know? Do I nonetheless suspect that my two modest efforts are better than all of theirs combined? Well yeah… Call me old fashioned, but I think you need something to say before you make a record. It doesn't have to be anything profound or political, but it should be about something, even if you are unsure at the time exactly what that is. My contemporaries have found all sorts of reasons to keep making records, in some cases for one of the best of reasons: money. I had a band called Green On Red and in its later years we made records for profit, to stay alive. Some of those records are even pretty good in a cynical way. They were about the hustle, desperation, exclusion. However, I don't think what my contemporaries have been writing about this last decade and a half has anything to do with a life on the margins, instead it has been one relentless appeal for inclusion into popular culture. They even have a marketing name for it: Americana. In my case, my two records are about the same woman, someone who I know very little about, even though I spent two decades living with her. Both records were an attempt to understand her, and myself for loving her. Really quite simple. As a wife and companion she left a lot to be desired, but as a muse one couldn't ask for more. She also had the kind of beauty that stops men and women in their tracks, a true femme fatale. Both records are an appeal to her, an attempt to communicate to someone who doesn't have the ability to respond in any normal way. The reasons for this are complex and varied, and cannot be described here, a novel would be required by someone like Durrell. Both records were conceived during times of separation and betrayal. With the first, Can O' Worms, I was living back in Arizona after a very bad time in Madrid. We had been married five years when she ran off with a carpet salesman from Santa Barbara. I was in shock, looking back I'm incredulous that I could remain lucid enough to write these songs. Indeed, my subsequent mental breakdown 15 years later I largely attribute to this original separation, like a war memory that comes back after being in a car accident. The result was The Deliverance of Marlowe Billings, the same record really, with perhaps a little more salt poured onto wounds that had never quite stopped their diseased weeping. Can O' Worms was largely ignored when it came out. I was the guy who got paid to throw up on his shoes, and the record didn't fit the narrative. I was no longer doing heroin, not even drinking, so how could it be any good? The record reaches for the literary in several places, but without any cringe. The players are exemplary and the production timeless. I've made more than a few bad records so I certainly know the difference. This one was special, and although I've never listened to it since it was completed, I'm satisfied that something happened for those two weeks that can never be fully quantified, especially with such a self-serving monologue as this. Like I said, I can't judge my contemporaries and I can't judge myself... You figure it out." Marlowe Billings Oaxaca Mexico, March 2013