I grew up swimming in the Gulf of Mexico, looking at an offshore oil rig on the horizon. When we got out of the ocean, we had to wipe the tarry goop off our feet and other odd places it wound up. My dad kept lighter fluid for this purpose. Can you imagine us? Sunburned rednecks in the seventies, dad smoking and wiping us up with lighter fluid?

We had no idea this was bad. It was our beach and we were glad to have it. There was no terrible oil spill that I remember, this was just life at the beach within eyesight of an oil rig.

The Bird Dogs have a protest song about gas wells, the fancy new cousin to oil drilling. Now, we all know gas wells are perfectly safe, will make your children’s teeth white, and will even walk your dog for you. Or, they at least won’t ruin your family’s health or the environment. Somehow, the Bird Dogs don’t agree with those sentiments in their protest song Devil In The Well. In a bit of strange serendipity, the OIL 150′s Oil and Gas dictionary* entry for the word “bird dog” says:

1. An early term used for geologists, who were so called because they were supposed to be able to “smell out” oil.  2.  Any person who ferreted out information and bird dogged it to other companies.  3.  A snooper or hanger-on who watches oil-field activities with the intention of getting information.

I had a hard time understanding some of the lyrics. On a song like this, I especially wish I could have rustled up some of the lyrics for a better interpretation. I did make out the satirical Sarah Palin line… Drill, baby, drill!

One phrase I definitely caught was “frack revolution” which was quite a nice phrase, I thought. (Fracking is a term  used in gas drilling).  If you’re like me and can’t make out all the lyrics but would like to know a little more, check out the movie Gasland by Josh Fox. The movie and the site both have more factual information about the problem. 

Their homepage is one of the more well written, entertaining ones I’ve read. (And, I’ve read enough to make my eyes bleed. I don’t look this way due to a hangover. Nor, actually due to fracking. At least I don’t think so.)

Describing themselves and their “education,” they say:

Steve French: Frenchy–Proprietor of the House of Guitar (brought to you by Fender) with a painter’s stroke on the pedal steel and an outlaw’s trigger finger on the tele. Undergrad work done at Garcia’s University of Gumbo Rock and graduate degree earned from the Bakersfield Academy of country music.

Randy Anderson: Tall Man–Phrasemaker, Dylanologist, and folk archivist. The one who tells the stories, pays the debts and names the names. Blues, ballads, and blasters composed with Frenchy and Slim for more than 30 years. Biggest of a big bunch.

Neil Farris: Senor Slim–survivor of the Cornell Hurd Band and a gallery of groups from galaxies long ago and far away, now the stately coiffed dean of the Dogs with smooth vocals and gritty guitar. A pilgrim to the land where Liverpool meets Memphis and Nashville, long before Lowe and Costello ever looked at the map.

Charlie Eadie: Dr. Buck–baseball illusionist and earthquake expert. Formerly conductor of the Santa Cruz Mystery Train and now keen eyed bottom dweller and groovesetter for the Dogs. Member of the slow pitch softball Hall of Fame.

Don Brelje–Dancing Don–notetaker and knight of the keyboard. Supplies the effects that brush the edges and distinguish the recipe. First to come and last to leave. Minister at the First Church of Enthusiasm.

Loren Rendler–The Kid–youth belies experience. Veteran of the Rock Wars and recent refugee to the land of Lyle and Loretta. Bard of the back beat and sage of the cymbals. Was born in a bass drum and proud of it.

Larry Martin: The Boss–aural tester and chef of sound. When he hears, it’s really there. Part time band psychologist and confessor. Full time lord of the open road.

With a gift for the written (or sung) word like this, you know they have a way with the language. Now, if you know the lyrics to this song, send them to me!

UPDATE:

I got the lyrics and they’re grand. Here’s a sampling:

About had enough of your trucks tearing up our farm to market road
I hear the drilling at night as it rattle thru my home
It’s on you, what going on, what do we do, if something is wrong

(chorus)
There’s a Devil in the well, drill baby drill and unleash hell
Don’t worry about the water or the air, There’s gold down in the ground
so what do we care, a Devil in the well.

Just reasonable people looking for a reasonable solution
I’ve seen what you’ve done to Denton County with your frackin polution
It’s on you, what’s going on, what’ll we do, if something is wrong

*Based on Lube Lingo by Roxanne Hitchcock

Goes Good With: Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan, Randy Rogers

Rating: 6.5 (until I can really read the lyrics)9/10