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Marvin Tate's D​-​Settlement

by Marvin Tate's D-Settlement

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  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    All three Marvin Tate's D-Settlement albums - Partly Cloudy, The Minstrel Show, American Icons - remastered in a 3xCD box set with a book featuring an oral history of the band.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Marvin Tate's D-Settlement via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days
    Purchasable with gift card

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    All three Marvin Tate's D-Settlement albums - Partly Cloudy, The Minstrel Show, American Icons - remastered in a 4xLP box set with a book featuring an oral history of the band.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Marvin Tate's D-Settlement via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days
    Purchasable with gift card

      $75 USD or more 

     

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    All three Marvin Tate's D-Settlement albums - Partly Cloudy, The Minstrel Show, American Icons - remastered in a 4xLP box set, on clear vinyl, with a book featuring an oral history of the band.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Marvin Tate's D-Settlement via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days
    Purchasable with gift card

      $85 USD or more 

     

1.
Late last night I was taking a bath when all ov’ah sudden all the lights in’da house go out I had to ask myself, “Did you pay your bills on time?” Hell Yeah! so what in’da fuck, could it be this time? For three nights in a row, a blackopolix, and not by choice. “Unh, Unh, I said to myself, ‘I ain’t no John-Boy, and we ain’t da Waltons” So yo Edison, Yo Commonwealth Edison, Turn’Da Fuckin’ Lights back on …HELL YEAH! Turn’da mo’fuckin lights back on Turn’da mo’fuckin’ lights back on HELL YEAH! Turn’da mo’fuckin lights back on Turn’da moi’fuckin’ lights back on HELL YEAH I lit a candle, so I could put my clothes back on, then I walked down to what ustah’ be the grocery store. I blinked my eyes cuz I couldn’t believe what I was seeing crazy-ass cops, these crazy ass cops knockin’ my peoples, up on the headz acting and thinking, thinking and acting, like this was still, 1968, 1968,1968 Turn’da mo’fuckin lights back on Turn’da moi’fuckin’ lights back on HELL YEAH! Turn’da mo’fuckin lights back on Turn’da moi’fuckin’ lights back on HELL YEAH Somebody tell me honestly, do you think po ’people dig living like this? No compensation, and never, never, never an explanation. So crooked politicians beware, crooked politicians beware, we don’t need no bullets, cuz we got the ballot So Yo Edison, Yo, Commonwealth Edison, Turn’da mo’fuckin lights back on Turn’da moi’fuckin’ lights back on HELL YEAH! Turn’da mo’fuckin lights back on Turn’da mo’fuckin’ lights back on HELL YEAH!
2.
All Pro 07:22
And you don’t talk Black to justice. Just be all you can be, our chosen superhero. But don’t be fucking with justice. Justice could put you away for life, Make a made-for-TV movie out of you. A Black superhero ain’t nothing but a zero. A Black superhero ain’t nothing but a zero. All Pro, All Pro All for one, and all and all and all and all and all All, all, all All, all, all Mama, what’s a Black Superhero, I mean, can he fly, can he cry, can he die like Darnell’s old man did in last week’s drive-by? If you think it’s betta, You wrong … it ain’t nobody but the LAPD. And those mo’fucks fear anything with the word “BLACK” in it Fear of a Black teenager standing on a street corner looking funky Fear of a black poet, reading Whitman Fear of an all-black TV drama Fear of a Black-owned Bookstore Fear of an all-Black National Hockey League Fear of a Black Talk Show Host Fear, fear of a Black politician Fear of a black rape victim that can identify her white rapist All Pro, All Pro All for one, and all and all and all and all and all All, all, all, All, all, all, all. In last week’s dramedy We watched our hero drive to the end of the rainbow where he was greeted by drunken fans waving cans of Minute Maid and the American Flag… Mama, why do we always put another human being on a pedestal thinkin’ they can do no wrong, and when they do, we treat them like a Superhero, a Superhero who can no longer outrun all his greedy friends, and foes. A Superhero, who can no longer see through all the media bullshit hype All Pro, All Pro All for one, and all and all and all and all and all All, all, all, All, all, all, all. Mama, why did they let’em live like a white man And watch him die, like a Black Superhero? Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman Superman He’s a Superman…
3.
Charlie, Charlieeeeeeeee Charlie said, I love my good and plenty… Charlie said, that shit really rings my bell man! Charlie said, I like it, I like it a lot. I must’ve seen him do that same bad-ass nigga routine, a thousand and one times first, he’d crisscross his eyes all silly, contort his face and make a menacing growl. Then he threatened to pull down his pants and take a mean-stankin’ ass shit If the crowd didn’t applaud loud enough, or shout, CHARLIE, CHARLIE, CharrrrrrrrLEEE Charlie said: I love my good and plenty Charlie said, that shit really rings my bell man Charlie said, I like it, I like it a lot. Only then would he grab his old beat-up kango, sorting out the coins from’da dollah bills, suspiciously looking over his back for beggers or even worst, crack deal’lahs that grew like exotic plants on every street corner Yo Charlie, Charlie, Charlie ….. Word was, that Charlie, was kickin’ it man had hooked-up with the good folks down at the N/A Center, met this little grey-haired lady, she stood about 5ft4, Charlie, stood about 6’5. She said, “Son if you tried hard enough, you could learn to dream again…”. No more late-night rendezvous with that two-faced white bitch down at run-down rat-infested hotels like the Saint James. With her always leaving Charlie, spastically pacing in circles up under the arch Charlie be up under the arch up under the ar on all fours’ya, barking like he was mad dawg (Barking) Charlie said: I love my good and plenty Charlie said, that shit really rings my bell man Charlie said, I like it, I like it a lot. Word was, word was, that Charlie was kickin’ it man, he was kickin’ it man, and that whoever had stolen his skinny skeleton from his old beat-up body, could keep it! Cuz the boy didn’t need it no mo. He didn’t need it no mo. Told me he was learning to dream again CHAAAAAAAAAARLEEEEEE CHAAAAAAAAAARLEEEEEE Charlie said……
4.
Makes you wanna holla, throw-up both’ya hands but your mind wanders off the page into an audience divided into three groups One, mousey-face art students who still believe that jack Keroac-off is still alive, and will be showing up to read from some “real’ urban tales Two, a table full of beautiful lesbians from Montana with so much clothing on that you start to think about that homeless family living underneath, lower Wacker Drive Three, thrill seeking North-Shore type,s who’ve mistaken the joint for an after-the hours Bears hangout, guzzling down cold beers In turtle-neck sweaters. Psssssssssssss, it’s your subconscious fucking wi’cha, Psssssssssssss , “WHY IN”DA HELL ARE YOU HERE FOR?” That’s when you jump into your Last Poets groove, thinking, “This shit went over well with the brothers from Omega last week, “Kill whitey, whitey did it! Went to’da moon and fucked an alien. Whitey, Whitey, Whitey…. Psssssssssssss, Psssssssssssss it’s your subconscious again It’s getting the best of you, but you can’t control it to save Your life…”Dats it, keep’em scared my brother, they like it Like dat, real harrrd and funky. Make’em shit Jimmy Crow make’em scream, ‘Take that shit back to the ghetto We can’t take it anymore…’ Pssssssssssss, I think you got their attention, the sister drinking with the loud-mouth Asian guy didn’t get it. The art we arty than hell types ain’t gonna get it because it’s a gender thang man and racial paranoia, is just a civil-lite thang of the past. And when you finally open your eyes, the entire audience has turned into a long line of bungalows, circa Bridgeport 1993. And you, you have your doubts too and they start to show, “Asalama Laka, anybody checkout those L.A. Lakers? Hey my brother can you pour me some more of that Folgers? Pssssssssssss, they’re clapping As if a conductor is pointing at them. And yes, a few are even scared. Psssssssssss, my brother, do you think white-folks, spend as much time thinking about white folks or do black folks Spend as much time, thinking about white folks? Psssssssssssss, my brother, did you know That FUNK, use to be a bad word?
5.
Who Sold Soul? Who sold soul? Who sold soul? trivialized, and romanticized until all of its traces are turned upside down and forgotten. Unless you were there, unless you, were there... Can blackness be sold? Who sold the afro pick? Who sold the lo, high-five? Who sold, big funky booties and succulent Chaka Kahn Lips, WHO SOLD SOUL? Was it you, Kevin Klein, when you finally realized that sistas could ride horses, into fake orange sunsets dip their heads into sky-blue waters and rise up, looking remote and sexy at the same time? or was it you, Godfather of soul, funk, hip-house, believing in all that governmental slapstick, only to be imprisoned by southern rednecks, labeled and ridiculed as if you were, just another entertainer? WHO SOLD SOUL? WHO SOLD SOUL? Question! what is a 'black-thang' and will it outlast black history month? Question! Is there such a thang, as a superior race and if so, who won the race? Question! Was Madonna really Elvis in drag? And if so, who really gives a fuck, because you know, you know, they have no real soul, WHO SOLD SOUL? WHO SOLD SOUL? You better wake up wake up, wake up.....
6.
You wan’nah make believe that you’re living in a colorblind society but the world that you crawl in all roses are red to you. Cuz every time you see me walking down the street You clutch yo’purse, look the other way and pray to God that am not the stranger, who’ll steal yo’dreams you living in a colorblind society Yeah, yeah, we living in a colorblind society Two mo’years left before the year 2000 and we still can’t see eye to eye, on’da race issue. I saw you sitting down at The OJ Trial, you were screaming sexism and I was screaming racism but when the verdict was announced, I looked at you, and you looked at me and we both lost fate, in the law and order in all of mankind. We living in a colorblind society Yeah, we living in a colorblind society everything gonna be alright You keep trying to deny my existence and he keep on trying to deny her existence treating each other like invisible men, but like the funk in my durty drawls, You can’t keep being oblivious to this beat, NAW! I know a place where all the brothers go They call it state prison. I know a place where all the brothers go They call it, State prison Greg was a po’kid, who hated being po tried hangin’ wi’all dah rich kids, but they didn’t dig’em cuz he was too dam po. now he’s selling rocks, he’s living in a colorblind society Yeah, he’s living in a colorblind society …red is’da color of my true love’s hair….
7.
Junkie Maker Give me back my mother Junkie Maker give me back, my brother…. Junk Maker Junk Maker Junk Maker Your factory is full today of mother’s, brother, fathers and sisters. They await your car-washed Mercedes to park along the curbside, as if a missing puzzle. One by one, clutching in their hands, social security checks, welfare checks Stolen money, hard-earned cash Junkie Maker give me back my mother Junkie Maker give me back, give me back My brother I remember back in’da day You ustah wait til the sun, went down before you pulled out your bag of tricks You said that you said that ‘Children weren’t game’. Now’yo motto is, time is money, money equals time, those caught between the crossfire gotta deal with the crime You a trip man You’ah mo’fuckin’ trip Junkie Maker , give me back my mother Junkie maker give me back, give me back My brother as long as it’s not there mouths who got the glass dick stuck in’der mouths Ov’ah der is ole Man Mr. Johnson, he remembers when crack’hoes were nothing but unemployed men, and women, waiting for their welfare checks Shiii, Ak-47s were nothin’ but baseballs bats and butcher knives…my oh my how things change Junkie maker, give me back my mother Junkie Maker give me back, give me back my brother Junkie Maker, give me back mother and my brother, and my sister and, my father….
8.
I am happy to have her home again, her eyes are filled with tired excitement I do not ask of her, how was her night what stranger she’s seen? She’ll discuss this after the harsh outcries of our next-door neighbor, as he watches in anguish, the tv shooting of his favorite hero. So, we sit listening, to the white-noize of the ceiling-fan spinning endlessly into oblivion, the junkie mother pacing the dimly lit stairwell in search for her imaginary son, and Pete, the crazy, ex-con, turned artist, trying to convince the night clerk into allowing him to paint murals in all the ugly lilac-colored rooms. In exchange, he shall have his room, rent free slowly she peels herself out of her blue-sequin dress, while lying on the bed. I’ve prepared for her, a tub of warm water, in which she washes away the smoke and fingerprints of faceless johns. She re-enters the tiny room, I tell her, how our neighbor screamed so loud, that he stopped would-Be thieves in their tracks after contemplating a robbery. She gives a reassuring smile, and gently pulls the covers over her beautiful body. While somewhere in the night, the sax player, fills her dreams with noize lots and lots of white noize.
9.
When the smoke has cleared and the bad guys have untied their BMW’s and Volvos from their hitching’ posts to drive back into the hills of Simi Valley to greet their steamy-horny housewives who await there arrivals like submissive June Lockhart’s after another night of wife swapping in the game room when PBS, PUBLIC BULLSHIt, ten years from now broadcast to the viewing audience, another flashback of a King being beaten, while peaceful protesters sit in cracker-owned dives, where there ain’t no bread being broken. When the helicopters hovering over another Crip, dripping blood because of a crack deal gone bad explodes like an overfed vulture, who’s eaten too many niggaz in it it’s day, burns along side Mr. and Mrs. Chin’s Wig shop that could duplicate the afro that Rodney Allen Rippy wore but will never manage the makings of Marley’s natty dreads Will YOU BE READY? Or will you waste-time arguing over If Gods chosen people are from Englwood or Winnetka; while your smoldering house crumbles like an etch-a-sketch drawing with invincible Century 21 signs in your front lawn, another archaeological dig, without you there to correct HIS story Will you be ready? When all the bad guys ride-off into the sunset of another fake-azz, Hollywood backdrop, taking with them, all the money and all the jobs only to return to see if Nicholson got front row seats with other whacked out popular nobodies, who all secretly dream…” OH how I wish I was an Oscar Nominee, so that everybody would know who in the fuck Iam!” Will You be ready? The bad guys are all gone now, but they can still smell Watts, Detroit Chicago, Washington Heights, burning through there pig snouts, and pig dreams… waiting for the smoke to clear from their eyes…. Will you be ready?
10.
Ladies and gentlemen Welcome to the planet D-settlement Wooooooooooooooooooooo Woooooooooooooo Wow mommy Look how pretty it is All I know child is that its too Hot in here… This is too funky Welcome to the planet D-settlement We’re going to take you higher This is going on, this is all the way live Welcome to the planet D-settlement We’re going to take you higher Earth is snoring(repeat)
11.
Beware of the N-word! Beware of the N-word! N-word N-word Nanny goat Nantucket Nappydellick Nipsey Russell Nine and a half years Nae, Nae Mickle Bag Nut-sack She said NO Never, never, again Never, never again Never, never again
12.
Planet D-Settlement Ladies and gentlemen Welcome to the planet D-settlement Wooooooooooooooooooooo Woooooooooooooo Wow mommy Look how pretty it is All I know child is that its too Hot in here… This is too funky Welcome to the planet D-settlement We’re going to take you higher This is going on, this is all the way live Welcome to the planet D-settlement We’re going to take you higher Earth is snoring(repeat) Beware of the N-word (pt 1) Beware of the N-word! Beware of the N-word! N-word N-word Nanny goat Nantucket Nappydellick Nipsey Russell Nine and a half years Nae, Nae Mickle Bag Nut-sack She said NO Never, never, again Never, never again Never, never again Don’t Send Him Away A knock, knock on the door who is it that I see? A gentle stranger staring back at me. He’s got my smile, and he’s even got my hands, tell me mama, who is this strange man? I know he’s broke your heart so many times before. Don’t you remember how I sat through all those tears. Call me a fool for believing in a myth, why he left you mama, will never make any sense. But in every wise old fool, there lives a wise old tale In every wise old tale, there lives a wise old fool Can he stay or will he have to go? Mama please, mama please Don’t send him away The last time that I saw him was in a fading picture dated October of 1964 young and handsome, with you by his side, mama, who would’ve thought It was all a bunch of lies. Call me a bastard for giving second chances Call me a no-good son for learning how to forgive and forget. But mama he’s got my smile And mama, he’s got my hands Mama please, mama please Don’t send him away I know he broke your heart I know he left you with six hungry children to feed; but dammit Mama, can’t you learn how to forgive and forget? Mama please, don’t send him away (Lonely whistle) Hoo, Ha
13.
14-year-old Corey, boy don’t know how to read or write. but he’s gotta gun. Said he’s gonna kill the teacher, You know Mr. Foster, didn’t like the way Mr. Foster gave him homework, didn’t like the way Mr. Foster gave him detention. Didn’t like the way Mr. Foster would walk right up to him and say, Hey Corey this isn’t the streets young man This is School, this is where it all begins This is my world, this my world, this IS MY WORLD… Corey don’t take my guns to school Corey, leave my guns at home Corey, leave my guns along So, its 11th period, right? And Mr. Foster is standing in front of the class, like a Jack Ass. And in comes Corey thirty minutes late. We can’t believe the fuckhead. And him and Mr. Foster are locking eyes like two Pit Bulls about to do battle. You otha seen it, you otha seen it And Corey he just walks up to Mr Foster, and he takes it out man, and he goes BAM, BAM, BAM! And we all just ran. Corey was crazy like dat, he was crazy like dat He was reeeeeal crazy . Corey don’t take my guns to school Corey, leave my guns at home Corey, leave my guns along Blame it on his mother Blame it on his brother Blame it on his dead-beat daddy Blame it on God Blame it on that Nigga Ben Blame it on Jessie Jackson Blame on sexism Blame it on racism Blame it on somebody Corey’s gotta Gotdam Gun Woah, Woahhhhhhhhhhhhhh Corey: Somebody please, Say a prayer for me. Cuz I don’t know Where I’m going. And I sho’n’fuck don’t know what I’m Doing 14-year-old Corey Boy don’t know how to read or write But he’s gotta gun AIN’T DAT A SHAME?! Corey: I’m only 14 years old I live in the ghetto My mama’s on crack I’m still a virgin My skin is black I still believe in Santa…ahhaha.
14.
Dinner Date 03:45
Now if you are my dinner date my darling I might have a special thing to say But if you cannot deal when times get harder It’s best you be right on your little way But if you are my dinner date my darling (what?) Then I might have a special thing to say (what’s that?) But if you cannot deal when times are real It’s best you be right on your little way Hi’ya doing, oh my name is Freddie Say what, that’s alright You, you don’t do what? Well, dats alright too Your what hurts? Gurl, I guess you better be on your way Little gurl But If you are my dinner date my darling (what?) Then I might have a special thing to say (mm-hmm) But if you cannot deal when times are real It’s best you be right on your little way It’s best you be right on your little way (It said, the ad) It’s best you be right on your little way (The ad said freak) It’s best you be right on your little way (You don’t do what?) It’s best you be right on your little way (Your what hurts?) Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh So wha’cha gonna do ‘How long has it been? You ever been to Mars? Na I haven’t but I’ve been to Chicago… What’s’ dat you got on your cheek Der’girl? All that’s baby juice Come here, come here girl if you are my dinner date my darling, then I might have a special thing to say but if you cannot deal when times are real It’s best you be right on your little way Cuz you mama said You Better…see’ya later
15.
Merry Go Round Merry go round Once you go up You must come down Merry go round Merry go round, around, and around and around…. There once was a woman Who stood by her man College sweethearts til the end. In her eyes, he could do no wrong. Candle lite dinners, two kittens and a baby girl, they name Brat Merry Go Round Merry go round Once you go up You must come down Merry go round Merry go round Around, and around And around Then came October It was bitter, it was sweet a rude awakening, she soon would meet for in her bedroom, down on his knees, laid her husband with a woman, she once called, her mom…. Merry Go Round Merry go round, Once you go up You must come down Merry go round Merry go round Around, and around And around “That was my man, You didn’t even use protection” A round and round Around, around, and around Round and around Around and around.
16.
They say, he got crow in his blood They say, he got crow in his blood They say, he got crow in his blood Have you ever heard a doggie bark bow, wow, wow, have you ever heard a baby cry boo, hoo hoo? Have you ever seen a fox go trot, trot, trot, have you ever seen a rabbit hippity hop, hop, hop ? Have you ever heard a gun go pow, pow, pow, Then why in the hell are you here for? Have you ever, seen, have you ever dreamed? Gonna have to show you what you never seen and more, before your work makes you poor, your feet become sore, and you just can’t take no more Have you ever, ever seen, have you ever dreamed, tell me then why in the hell are you for? You run for the door; you say what’s it for Then suddenly you feel that you might need more Yo bust it Have you ever seen the core of an Eeyore Have ever seen the shore, on a sea tour (those hammer head sharks might bite your ass) Have you ever, ever heard a lion roar,(in the jungle, the funky funky jungle) Then why are you here for? THEY TOLD ME THIS WAS A FUNKY PLACE! Have you ever heard a doggie bark bow, wow, wow, have you ever heard a baby cry boo, hoo hoo? Have you ever seen a fox go trot, trot, trot, have you ever seen a rabbit hippity hop, hop, hop ? Have you ever heard a gun go pow, pow, pow, pow, Then why in the hell are you here for? Have you ever heard a doggie bark bow, wow, wow, have you ever heard a baby cry boo, hoo hoo? Have you ever seen a fox go trot, trot, trot, have you ever seen a rabbit hippity hop, hop, hop ? Have you ever heard a gun go pow, pow, pow, pow, Then why in the hell are you here for?
17.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOO Sweet Rochelle Pretty Rochelle Ghetto mullatto, From Alsip Colorado One day she asked her mother about her long-lost father How does it feel Rochelle, To have yo bauble busted? How does it feel Rochelle To mistrust all those, you called Yo’friends ? Rochelle, Pretty Rochelle Sweet Rochelle Ro… How does it feel Rochelle, to have had the world In the palm of your hands? How does it feel Rochelle To loose control? How does it feel Rosie? (tell me, tell me) To know, How does it feel Rochelle To be, just another BLACK GURL A Black gurl A black gurl A black gurl A black gurl How does it feel Rosie to hate, yo white mama? How does it feel Rosie, Rosie To hate, you white daddy? How does it feel Rosie, Rosie, Rosie, To know? How does it feel Rochelle, to be Just another BLACK GURL A Black gurl A black gurl A black gurl A black gurl How does it feel Rosie, to have Miracle Whip, Instead of Helman’s? How does it feel Rosie, Rosie Rosie always waiting to get your groove back? How does it feel Rochelle, to go UIC instead of the U of C? How does it feel Rosie, to eat Kellogg’s Cornflakes, Instead of fuckin’Captain Crunch? Ro, sweet Rochelle Freaky Rochelle, Freaky Rochelle, Ro, sweet Rochelle
18.
Yesterday 03:59
Ok, this is what I was thinkin… Yesterday When we were one God, love connected us to the most high. All one drum grooving to one drum. Yesterday when were one with God. We say, heyyyyyyyyy, naw,naw,naw,naw naw Yesterday Yesterday When we were one God, love connected us too the most high. All one drum grooving to one drum. Yesterday when were one with God. We say, heyyyyyyyyy, naw,naw,naw,naw naw All one drum All one drum
19.
Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf He’ll huff and he’ll puff And he’ll blow your door down! Hey Mis’tah You got dat nice fine lawn, how would you like it If I build a sports bar next door to you? We’ll call it Mr. Magoo. And hey sister, you got dat nice find condominium, how would you like it, If I built a CHA next door to you? We’ll call it mixed income housing baby I’m the big bad wolf I’m big bad azz wolf I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your fuckin’ door down. I play the race card baby I ain’t afraid of you. That’s how the west was won, that’s how the south was lost. I’m a big bad wolf, dressed in chic clothing baby. I’ll be your yellow school bus! I’ll take all your little problems, away. I’m a big bad wolf I’m a big bad azz wolf. I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your fuckin’ door down Look, look, it’s the big bad wolf Huffin’ and puffin’ on another beedi Look! It’s the big bad wolf Comin’ through yo door, got you shook, asking me for a beedi, actin’ like he down with me, but he don’t know me, he wannah be free, using his money like a shank Putting all my money in ‘his bank. Take away what we started, make us feel like we ain’t got no heart with each other, acttin’ like my brother. Separation is the name of his game. Ain’t it a shame! He ain’t shit, see, I know his hold trip I ain’t afraid of that punk yo who’s afraid? I ain’t afraid, we all need to get together split that motherfucker’s wig today. Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf The big bad wolf, the big bad wolf The big bad wolf, the big bad wolf, I play the race card baby I ain’t afraid of you It’s how the west was won It’s how the south was lost
20.
Bill Cosby and the late Esther Rolle near sighted 9:30pm Nairobi Nic, nak No neck Nit wit She said No, Never, never never, again She said no mo’fucka I don’t want yo funk I’m just here to dance BEWARE OF THE N-Word N word N word N word Beware of the N word Napsack Nae, Nae 199 Nicklebag Noo now,noo now, Noo now,now,now Newborn 199 Nickle bag Noo ni, ni, ni, ni, ni
21.
Jury Duty 01:47
Voices; Ahoooooooooooooooo Should we let’em live, Should we let’em die? Should we let’em play in the NBA, should we let’em sign on the dotted line, should we, should we? Jurors: No, he never knew his mommy and he never knew his daddy No, he never knew his mommy and he never met his daddy….
22.
Woo – woo (repeat) Daddy was a preacher-man He loved the choir singers He’d meet ‘em ‘hind the pulpit They, played u’neath their robes and Hidey-hidey-hi, Hidey-hidey-ho (repeat) My Momma used to meet her men On 45th and Winston She’d take ‘em in the alley Wouldn’t see her till the morning and Hidey-hidey-hi, Hidey-hidey-ho (repeat) That’s what happens when the brothel Has a steeple and the people, don’t even know That’s what happens when the bible Turns evil and the people, stay for the show Woo – woo (repeat) People refuse to see The truth behind the lie Preachers, love to throw Jesus When folks they doing wrong Hidey-hidey-hi, Hidey-hidey-ho (repeat) Jesus is my only friend And he ain’t even listening Too busy playing doctor Wit all the freaky devils and Hidey-hidey-hi, Hidey-hidey-ho (repeat) (chorus)
23.
Momma’g gotta new boyfriend Momma’s gotta new boyfriend Momma’g gotta new boyfriend Momma’s gotta new boyfriend And now she’s finally happy And now she’s finally happy And now she’s finally happy And now she’s finally happy Late one night I can hear them creepin’ Down the stairs Out’da back door Into his car And off into the night he drove and in comes my mama actin’ like a shiny bald head tryin’ and fittin’ into clothes she could never fit into before but all I know is dat his name is Larry got two jobs, and he talks like Barry and if I had a cristal baqll I can see into the future and tell’ya how long it’s gonna last Momma’g gotta new boyfriend Momma’s gotta new boyfriend Momma’g gotta new boyfriend Momma’s gotta new boyfriend Look at my mama, with her baaaad self Oh, happy day And now she’s finally happy Oh happy day Momma’g gotta new boyfriend Momma’s gotta new boyfriend Momma’g gotta new boyfriend Momma’s gotta new boyfriend And now she’s finally happy And now she’s finally happy And now she’s finally happy And now she’s finally happy Ring, ring goes the telephone It’s my daddy actin’ like 411 but I don’t hate the man remember the time when he Use to get down on his knees and Play Barbie with me. But the man had a temper, like some cold Chicago winter and when he got mad, it was really bad and we all got snowed on; now my mama’s gotta new boyfriend, yeh, yeh, yeh Momma’g gotta new boyfriend Momma’s gotta new boyfriend Momma’s gotta new boyfriend Momma’s gotta new boyfriend And now she’s finally happy Oh, happy day Getting her hair fixed Getting her nails done Got a new dress on Got a new attitude, oh yea Yeah she’s finally happy now, now Oh, happy day Oh, happy day Oh, happy day
24.
Gerald 07:26
Oh gerladdddddddddddddddd What’sup with you man? Ain’t no role models In’da hood for Gerald Ain’t no role models In’da hood for Gerald he don’t know, if he wants to be a boy or a girl Their ain’t no role models in’da hood for Gerald Daddy say, “Why you gotta be dat way”/ Be a man boy, act as strong As you can. Then he gets down on his knees and pray To a God he don’t even understand… Father: Be a man, be somebody, When I was age, I had thangs Money, cars, clothes, and women I always had women Don’t everybody wannah be like Mike. Dunk a ball, Fly high in’da sky. Don’t everybody Wannah be a Disciple, drive the CTA or deliver’yo mail Hey, ain’t it shame, Some people gotta die first before they can be free? Free’yo mind and yo ass will follow Free, Freeee. I wannah be free…. Free, freedom spelled backwards is freeeee Got his head stuck in’da oven, 350. Say he’s gonna take a trip to see his long, lost mother. Don’t know if there’s a heaven or a hell, but wherever he goes it’s gotta be better than this BIG, tiny world we call’da hooooood. Mama I’m a girl Mama, I’m a girl Mama I’m a girl I’m Gerald Let’em be Let’em be Let’em be
25.
I am Number Man, I count, do you? I will show you (he will show you) I will show you, what to do (repeat) Watch the signs right outside your door It’s like, it’s like, it’s like crazy! Whoa! Play the platinum card Counting all the targets down, down, down La la la lala la… Whoa! I am Number Man, I count, do you? I will show you (he will show you) I will show you, what to do… Well? (he will show you) I will show you, what to do, what to do, what to do Watch the skies, as they turn to dawn It’s like, it’s like, it’s like crazy! Whoa! Play the platinum card Counting all the targets down, down, down La la la lala la… Whoa! I count, do you? I got money and things yeah! I drive a very nice car oh, oh, oh, oh, ooh I do, do you count, count, count? Whoa, a revelation I do, do you count? Oh…oh, oh, oh I am the Number Man I am Number Man, I count!
26.
Mr. Sullivan 05:39
Here’s a little story that must be told Pajamas in the daytime make his heart cold He’s got a little window, it faces outdoors The clock keeps ticking t-tick, t-tick, t-tick When the sun, when the sun refuses to shine Through your windowpane… When the birds outside your door No longer sing in harmony… When your next-door neighbors son Refuses to mow your lawn And your Filipino nurse curses you And eats your lunch… Goodbye Mr. Sullivan, he’s 99 years old Goodbye Mr. Sullivan, God rest your soul When all the money you saved Can only buy you an expensive grave (When you die, when you die, when you die when you die, die, die) When your pretty, young wife makes it clear She only wants your cash… When your Negro son-in-law kisses you And calls you Papa… And the clock upon the wall No longer tick-tock-ticks… Goodbye Mr. Sullivan, he’s 99 years old Goodbye Mr. Sullivan, God rest your soul (Repeat 1x) God bless your soul God bless your soul Here’s a little story that must be told Pajamas in the daytime make his heart cold He’s got a little window, it faces outdoors The clock keeps ticking t-tick, t-tick, t-tick The moral of the story must be this then Don’t drink beer and eat cake, it will make your belly ache Hickory-dickory-dock, the mouse, ran up the clock.
27.
Bronzeville 07:22
Ahhooooooooooo Splash, Pow, giggy, giggy, giggy , Ahoooooooooooo Splash, Pow.. Blew the whistle on his own and now, he’s on the run. Good guys, good guys, they don’t last in’dis here town. Gotta bible in his hands, think he’s gonna save the world, but that day gonna come, when he’ll, he’ll have to learn. That even superheroes, superheroes, can get burned. When nightfall’s over old Bronzeville when nightfall over old Bronzeville when nightfall’s over old Bronzeville when nightfall’s over old Bronzeville Son plea, daddy don’t go, daddy why you gotta, where you going? Mama, sitting, drinking crying in’da rain. What made that man, what made my daddy, turn so cold? No’mo jumping on’da bed no’mo games of hide n’ seek, daddy going pursue, his lifelong dream. But that day gonna come, when he’ll have to learn that even superheroes, superheroes can get burned. When nightfall’s over old Bronzeville when nightfalls over old Bronzeville Broken glass and heartbroken dreams they’ll steal yo’soul for a lousy, two’dollah sammish GO HOME BOY! DIS AIN’TNO PLACE FOR NO BRIGHT EYED BEGGINNERS, GET OUTTAH” HERE BOY GO HOME BOY! Take’yo bible, and yo’God lovin’ ways and go back home to West Virginia…. THEY’LL STEAL’YO SOUL, OV’AH A LOUSY, TWO-DOLLAH SAMMISH Splash, Pow, woop’now giggy, giggy Splash, Pow, woop’now giggy, giggy when nightfall’s over old Bronzeville when nightfalls over old Bronzeville Broken glas, heart broken dreams nigh fall ov’ah old Bronzeville When nightfall over old Bronzeville.
28.
Once upon a time, in a blue, blue sea, lived a very lonely dolphin. He spent his days searching the silvery waves for his true love. One day, he spied a beautiful girl feeding the ocean with her tears. He fell in love. Each day, the dolphin would swim beneath the rocks, hoping to be captured in her lovely brown eyes, to speak with her, to share his love. And this is how he spent his days: watching her from afar, happy, in love.
29.
(Intro) Ooooo Baa da da da da daaahhh Dooo Doooo Doo do do do do doooo (VERSE 1) Brown eyes on Miss(D). I try to see reflections of me. I ask why you can't understand me. Without saying a word (without saying a word), you speak volumes to me. She's in you. When she walks she floats. Her self tales Inner wonderment. You drink her in. (VERSE 2) Brown eyes are so Miss(D). In them I can swim so endlessly (so endlessly) She's so deep (she's so deep), I feel myself falling (falling), Falling (falling), Falling (falling, falling), without saying a word. I hear you calling, calling, whoa. (BRIDGE) She's in you. When she walks she floats. (When she walks she floats) Her self tales Inner wonderment Dying for time (Ba da dwee ahhh) Hoping (Ba da Dwee ahhh) that I get a chance (Ba da Bop da da de ahh) To stare into (Ba da dwee ahhh) Your (Ba da Dwee ahhh) Infinitely ( Ba da Bop Bop Bop) Miss(D) Eyes (BIRD SOLO) Da La La La La La la la Laaaa Do do do do do dooooo Do ooo oooo ooo oooooooo Duuummm do Dummm Duuumm do Dummm Dooooo (OUTRO VOCAL REFRAIN) Brown eyes on Miss(D). Brown eyes are Miss (D). Brown eyes are Miss (D), yeah, baby, baby. Brown eyes are so Miss(D), Baby… doo oooo ooo ooo ooooooo ooo oooo
30.
Hangman 05:50
Sarah Good-Hanged-July 19, 1692, Owen Anderson-Lynched-November 8th, 1889, Shaka Sankofa-Lethal Injection-June 22, 2000 Year to year, month to month, day in day out It's the obsession that never ceases Never rests, never relents How do I kill thee? Let us count the ways Do I drop a tablet? A little alka-selzter with a lethal twist? Or maybe give that hot shot of arsenic? Taking the A-Train down the mainline to oblivion? And who can't wait to get their hands on that switch? Snap, crackle,pop, fried up the latest entree 'til it smelt like burnt toast. America has a love affair with the Hangman It's better than sex Oh baby, oh baby, oh baaaby The peak hits the moment we hear the snap of the neck The gurgle of the throat, the sight of that lifeless torso Swinging back and forth Back and forth in the cool summer breeze Fuck baseball, this is the national past time Complete with trademarks and single-minded striving To beat all countries in the lynch mob competition While some may be satisfied with the bronze or silver America, America, America wants nothing less than the gold America has a love affair with the hangman *America has a love affair with the hangman It's better than sex, oh baby, oh baby, oh baaaby* Ponchai Wilkerson-Lethal Injection-March 14 2000 Mary Connell-Lynched-October 4th, 1916 John Proctor-Hanged-August 19th 1692 It gets the best ratings, brings the most entertainment value Keeps us happy and content and barking like coyotes at the moon Die, die, die goes the never-ending chant, throw us out another piece of meat We're so damn hungry one may not be enough one may not satisfy All eyes watching the countdown like it was journey to the far reaches of an unknown galaxy And not just another quick trip to the morgue It's our religion and we worship with regularity, in god we trust but in death we rejoice In the name of justice, in the name of the sacred standards of society In the name of civilized behavior, kill one you're a menace, kill a dozen you're a psycho Kill a hundred you're a war hero, kill a hundred thousand and you're a world leader With the admiration of a nation and a place of honor at the head of any dinner table. America has a love affair with the hangman Girvies Davis-Letha Injection-May 17th, 1995 Julius and Ethel Rosenberg-Electric Chair-June 19th, 1953 Giles Corey-Died under torture-September 19th 1692 It's in our blood, in our history, in the air we breathe the food we eat The final solution to everything standing in the American way To everything that don't fit in, that don't obey, that don't beg at master's table Always remaining the ever so ungrateful slave, ‘til the voice is silenced Words removed, memory erased and body buried out back 'til the weeds and tall grass cover up, all evidence of the crime America has a love affair America has a love affair America has a love affair… With the hangman
31.
Voice of the Public Defender: “Your honor. People of the court, Greg Williams is not a killer… now I know that might come as surprise to some of’yall, but Greg Williams he ain’t no choir boy, but’ders one thang I know fo’sho, Greg Williams, did not pull dat trigger. Ya, see folks, if we put Mr. Williams future in our hands, let’s make certain, that we don’t turn his past into his potential future. Jurors: But he never knew his mommy and he never met his daddy. No, he never knew his mommy and he never knew his daddy
32.
Uncle Alvin lost all his dreams, checked into a rehab so he could save his soul. found a God that he could trust last I heard; he had a family of three. Flipping burgers at a restaurant, don’t come around the old hood no’mo. But it’s a great day in’da neighborhood great day in’da neighborhood It’s a great day, in’da neighborhood a great day in’da neighborhood Old man Wilson to’po, to live along. Spent his last dollah, playing lottery. Say he’s gonna check-out his favorite baseball team. Ain’t seen a game since the Giants retired Willie Mays Freddie ain’t dead he just the quit gang traded in his guns for a ‘Free Mamia Shirt’. Sittin’ on a Greyhound headed for Detroit. Will he be coming back? HELL! I dunno. But it’s a great day in’da neighborhood A GREAT DAY IN’DA NEIGHBORHOOD it’s a great day In’da neighborhood A GREAT DAY IN”DA NEIGHBORHOOD it’s a great day it’s a great day it’s a great day it’s a great day it’s a great day It’s a great day it’s a great day It’s a great day It’s a great day We ain’t got no Starbucks we ain’t even gotta 711, in our neighborhood, people gonna start respecting and loving one another

about

D-Settlement were Chicago’s best-kept secret: a trailblazing, diverse band mixing R&B, soul, punk, gospel and funk with biting wit and political commentary. Led by Marvin Tate — a poet, artist, playwright and raconteur who wore pipe cleaners in his hair — and supported by a large, dynamic cast of characters, their music was both of and ahead of its time. From the 1990s to 2003, across three self-released albums — Partly Cloudy, The Minstrel Show, and American Icons — D-Settlement told Tate’s nuanced stories about transgender rights, gun violence, systemic inequity and gentrification from an unapologetically Black perspective, drawing from his life in and around Chicago’s West Side. Their music grew to encompass Americana, opera, cabaret and theatre, intersecting in ways that only Tate could conceive. Their concerts brought these influences to bear so often, and with such force, that stealing the show was a matter of routine. Their creative vision left imprints on people like Angel Bat Dawid, Ben LaMar Gay, Theaster Gates, avery r. young and Angel Olsen, relating traumatic experiences, skewering organized government, religion, corruption and poverty, and imagining better futures through an Afrofuturist lens. But record labels didn’t know how to handle such pathbreaking work. Twenty-plus years on, American Dreams’ reissue, Marvin Tate’s D-Settlement, is the music's worldwide release.

Tate began D-Settlement at the center of Chicago’s vibrant spoken-word scene. He began performing slam poetry in the mid-‘80s; by 1990, he was Chicago’s poetry slam champion, and in ’94 won a poetry slam presented by Lollapalooza. At the same time, he began incorporating his work within a musical context, performing with jazz luminaries Jeff Parker and LeRoy Bach in the band Uptighty, which morphed into an early version of D-Settlement. Tate’s poetry and lyrics are arresting, plainspoken, and often darkly funny, equal parts Gwendolyn Brooks, Richey Edwards and Ivor Cutler, able to inhabit characters all over the underclass. He’s an aggrieved poet reflecting on the indignities of reading poetry to a majority-white audience: “This shit went over well with the brothers from Omega last week: ‘Kill Whitey, Whitey did it! Went to the moon and fucked an alien. Whitey, Whitey, Whitey…’” He’s a churchgoer telling off organized religion on “Trouble A Come”: “Daddy was a preacher man / He loved the choir singers / He’d meet them ‘hind the pulpit / They played underneath their robes and…” Tate developed his ability to inhabit such diverse characters as a child, playing the Dozens at school, reciting “We Real Cool” to a rapt playground, and telling stories to his brother, Melvin, and cousin, Jerome, in a storytelling group called the Kooky Boys. Tate and his five siblings, raised by their single mother, grew up without radio or television; they’d take out a box and make up TV shows. In 1969, when he was nine, his mom was shot in front of him. “This dude had a silver gun and he said, ‘you let that bitch kick your ass, man?’ I was helping my mom fight. My mom pushed me out the way, and the dude shot at her.” His characters include children missing a father figure and adults grieving family members lost to heroin addiction; they span the breadth of human emotion, and they’re fiercely independent.

D-Settlement brought these stories into view with kaleidoscopic arrangements inflected with their members’ varied skillsets: guitarist and vocalist George Blaise, bassist and vocalist Olin Langley, singers Tina Howell and Renee Ruffin, drummers George Jones, Virus X, David Hilliard and Debi Buzil, multi-instrumentalists Adam Conway and CJ Bani. Conway talked himself into the band, variously wearing singer, drummer, producer, engineer and accountant hats; Ruffin became adept at imitating flutes and birds; Blaise and Langley often spearheaded arrangements and production. All hands were always on deck. On Partly Cloudy, the band’s music serves as a foil to Tate’s poetry: raucous funk (“Turn Da Fuckin’ Lights Back On,” “Charlie of Washington Square”), reggae (“Who Sold Soul?”), slow-burn piano blues balladry (“Insomnia in NYC,” “Marching in the Mist”). The game-changer is Tate’s elastic, incisive voice, which raps, pleads, soars, crackles with a preacher’s fire. Over the course of their discography, Tate works more and more as a bandleader, directing his multifaceted ensemble through stunning performances with heavy melodic interplay, whether imbued with Afrofuturism (“Brown Eyes (Miss D),” “Planet D-Settlement”) or stark confrontations of racism (“Have You Ever Seen?,” “Hangman,” “Jury Duty”).

Among the band’s strongest songs are true-to-life. “The Ballad of Corey Dykes” is a potent example of D-Settlement at its most provocative: atop a gritty, funky rhythm section and backing vocals evocative of gospel, Tate spins a yarn about a fourteen-year-old student who shoots his teacher. “There was a real Corey Dykes,” Tate says. “I was a teacher on the West Side, man. And this young man just bullied everybody, man. And one day he said, ‘man, I kill you.’ I just blew him off. Charged and shit. But you can never tell what youth will do. You know? Young men had no idea of what loss was, what the boundaries were, you know, and so I tried to recreate that classroom scene, because, oh, there’s some other fourteen-year-old Corey — that’s the narrator.” “Gerald” shows a neighborhood struggling to accept a transgender child — at a time when there was scarcely a Transgender Day of Remembrance. “We’re doing songs about a young transgender person before it was fucking cool to talk about it,” says Blaise. “This was our community.” Other songs provide sardonic social critiques a la Ida B. Wells or Jane Addams. “Governmental Wolf” critiques gentrification, redlining and systemic racism; “Turn Da Fuckin’ Lights Back On” police violence, Com-Ed corruption and systemic poverty (“Somebody tell me honestly, do you think po’ people dig living like this?”). The soulful closing track “A Great Day (in the Neighborhood)” synthesizes all these threads, building stories of community members to a stirring crescendo pocked with police sirens, birdsong and their surroundings.

D-Settlement gave countless concerts in Chicago, pursuing their cause with an intensity reminiscent of Black Flag, sometimes getting banned from the venues they played. They regularly blew the roof off of the HotHouse, where they maintained a residency, and supported Antibalas, Ken Nordine and Bernie Worrell, garnering rave reviews from the Chicago Tribune. They were primed to break out beyond the city. But their rising star coincided with the pressures of the internet, and in 2003, as the band reached its apex, it disbanded. Tate’s creativity has bloomed since then: he’s published poetry books and performed poetry on HBO, made music with Angel Olsen, Tim Kinsella, LeRoy Bach, and countless others, directed plays and musicals, quietly pursued a personal sculptural practice. But he’s done it all under the radar, without the fanfare accorded to those he’s influenced. It’s time to give him and D-Settlement their flowers.

American Dreams Records presents Marvin Tate's D-Settlement: a deluxe 4xLP/3xCD box set, designed by Field of Grass (Numero Group, Paradise of Bachelors), collecting their three albums with an oral history book of the band featuring words by Angel Bat Dawid, Jaimie Branch, Ben LaMar Gay, among many others.

__________________

“[Marvin Tate] amalgams everything we’ve ever wanted Black music to be with regard to strength and uncompromised openness and conduit. Marvin is a conduit and a sage. And if a genie in bottle would offer me one wish, it would be that I might be a background singer under the leadership of Chicago’s great poet, great artist and thinker Marvin Tate again.” –Theaster Gates

"Marvin does Marvin and is deeply authentic, making him a favorite among fellow artists. Now he’s ready for his proper recognition." – Yvette Marie Dostatni, Chicago Magazine

"By merging ferociously honest poetry with various black musical traditions, Tate stands as heir to Chicagoan Oscar Brown Jr., the veteran urban griot whose lyrics long have decried racism and social injustice." – Howard Reich, Chicago Tribune

“I met Marvin during my last winter in Chicago. Leroy Bach had set us up together, he thought I’d be a good candidate for singing Marvin’s poems and taking on characters for his songs. Marvin is a Chicago diy legend and it felt like the perfect way to spend my time saying goodbye to a chapter of my life there in that scene. At the end of the recording process Marvin gave me a snow globe he had made himself. I remember wishing more people thought of these kinds of gifts, and years later I still feel myself and where I was through those songs. It encapsulated a very big moment for me personally.” – Angel Olsen

credits

released November 4, 2022

Partly Cloudy (tracks 1-9) was written and produced by Marvin Tate and C.J. Bani.

The Minstrel Show (tracks 10-20) was written, arranged and produced by Marvin Tate's D-Settlement. Engineered by Don Grayless, except 11, 16 and 20, engineered by Garfield Dyer. Mixed by Adam Conway and Olin Langley, except 17, mixed by Peter Andreadis.

American Icons (21-32) was written and arranged by Marvin Tate's D-Settlement. Produced by Adam Conway, George Blaise, Olin Langley and Adam Nelson/Q Studios. Engineered by Adam Nelson/Q Studios.

All albums remastered by Mikey Young.

Boxed set produced for reissue by Jordan Reyes and Marvin Tate. Oral history edited by Jordan Reyes and Eli Winter. Photographs and ephemera supplied by Marvin Tate.

Art direction by Field of Grass. Design by Timothy Breen and Ben Chlapek, with archiving by Caroline Mort.

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Marvin Tate's D-Settlement Chicago, Illinois

D-Settlement were Chicago’s best-kept secret: a trailblazing, diverse band mixing R&B, soul, punk, gospel and funk with biting wit and political commentary. Led by Marvin Tate — a poet, artist, playwright and raconteur who wore pipe cleaners in his hair — and supported by a large, dynamic cast of characters, their music was both of and ahead of its time. ... more

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