Pretzel Logic Album

Format	Label	Number
LP	ABC	ABC 808
LP	Probe	SPBA 6282
LP	ABC Command	CQD-40015
LP	MCA	MCA-1593
LP	Geffen Records	B0034986-01
LP	Analogue Productions	AUHQR 0011-45
CS	MCA	MCAC-1593
CD	MCA	MCAD-31165
*CD	MCA	MCAD-11917
SACD	Analogue Productions	CAPP 136 SA

* The Classic Original Album
New digital remastering
supervised by the Artists
with all original graphics,
plus new liner notes by
Walter Becker & Donald Fagen
And For The First time, complete lyrics
MCAD-11917

RIKKI DON'T LOSE THAT NUMBER / NIGHT BY NIGHT / ANY MAJOR DUDE WILL TELL YOU / THROUGH WITH BUZZ / PRETZEL LOGIC / WITH A GUN / MONKEY IN YOUR SOUL ©1974 MCA Music Publishing, a division of Universal Studios Inc. (ASCAP). BARRYTOWN / PARKER'S BAND / CHARLIE FREAK ©1973 MCA Music Publishing, a division of Universal Studios Inc. and Red Giant Inc. All rights for Red Giant Inc. controlled and administered by MCA music Publishing, a division of Universal Studios, Inc. (ASCAP).

Special thanks to Michael Omartian, Jim Gordon, Jeff Porcaro, David Paich, Chuck Rainey, Ben Benay, Dean Parks, Tim Schmit, Victor Feldman, Plas Johnson, Ollie Mitchell, Jerome Richardson, Lew McCreary, Ernie Watts, Wilton Felder, Tubby, Bruce, Dee, etc.

Orchestration by Jimmie Haskell
Fuzz box courtesy of Valley Sound
Tim Schmit courtesy of Epic Records
Security: Karen Stanley
Engineered by Roger (The Immortal) Nichols
at the Village Recorder, West Los Angeles, California
Overdub and mixdown at Cherokee Sound,
Chatsworth, California
Original Art Direction and Inside Photo by Ed Caraeff
Cover Photo by Raenne Rubenstein
Original Design by David Larkham
Reissue Art Direction: Vartan
Reissue Design: Michael Diehl
Produced by Gary Katz

COMFORT TO THE SOUL,
INSPIRATION TO THE SENSES,
SUSTENANCE FROM ONE MOMENT
TO THE NEXT - THESE ARE THE
MORSELS WE ALL CRAVE.

- TAKASHIMAYA CATALOGUE, VOLUME SIX

Hey Andy - We've been working on the liners for the new reissues, and we were wondering: What is the new series going to be called? Steely Dan Millennium Reissue Series? Repacked Again! for the Neuromantic Generation? Repackaging Concept #5? How about a sticker that reads: Newly Readministered by the Artists? Or maybe the best thing to do would be to rename the tunes and the albums and reissue them as new product. Because, let's face it, they still sounds fresh, we were years and years ahead of our time in those days (you said so yourself), and it's not getting any easier to write and record these suckers, you know? in this, the post-postmodern era, when the average third grades is a big a wiseass as we ever were. If you like this idea, let us know and we'll start working on the changes immediatly. As it happens, we're years and years ahead of our time in royalties, too, so the advances would come in handy.

"Cross-collateralization" - this was not one of the terms we had mastered as we sailed across Laurel Canyon in Gary Katz's Buick, on our way to work, in 1971. Not that Gary himself was unaware of the concept - he had scrupulously avoided it, as witnessed by the fact that he was now, in 1973, driving not a humble Buick but a swank tomato red Mercedes-Benz roadster. At the time Messrs. Becker and Fagen, whose publishing and recording deals were cross-collateralized to a fair-three-well, were driving a 1966 Chevelle and a late model Mazda RX-7 econosportsedan, respectively. Not that we were completely ignorant of sophisticated politico-economic concepts: we had, unfortunately for us, heard of democracy, and of socialism, and had organized the

financial structure of the fledgling Steely Dan corporation along the lines of the European-style social democracy we so admired. This aspiration to socioeconomic justice was, in our cases, overdetermined, as much by the heady egalitarian post-sixties zetgeist as by some fierce internal Robespierre, who demanded that we share the wealth, such as it was, equally with our citizen bandmates. This utopian economic scheme, in stark contrast to the unenlightened despotism of our autocratic estethic regime, promoted a feeling of fellowship and community amongst our bandmembers. In conjunction with the neocolonial devil's bargain we had struck with our record company/publishers and our various business managers, it had also produced uniform poverty. When, in 1974, we hired Jeff Porcaro to join the band as a second drummer for the purposes of touring, we paid him $400 a week, and thus became the highest paid musician in the outfit, since the rest of us got $250.
By the time we were ready to start work on our third album, we were no longer the enthusiastic amateurs of the Can't Buy A Thrill period, champing at the bit to have our first real chance to get in the studio and record an album of our songs. Nor were we the shell-shocked road warriors of the Countdown To Ecstasy period, leading our little troop through the jazz-rock underbrush. Rather, we had settled into a comfortable writing and working groove, which was based on a calculated reversion to our pre-west-coast schizotypal tendencies and tastes. As it turned out, the sunny clime and prefab cookie-cutter robo-culture in which we now found ourselves only served to heighten our paranoia and alienation. We had our songs, some nice axes, good girlfriends, brand new drivers' licenses, lots of 24-track studio time, and a warm place to compose. In other words, Miles was in heaven and all was right in the world. Except for one little thing.
"Studio musician" - to us, there were no grander words in the English language than these ("ripe breast," "chiba-chiba" and "flaworstraw" were close runners-up). On our very first visit to the little studio at ABC/Dunhill Records, we were mightily

impressed by the awesomely steady pulse of Jim Gordon's drums, even though he was at that moment playing the most moronic bubblegum music imaginable. We were still talking about our primordial recording session experiences in New York, such as the "Alias Boona" dates, where the legendary if somewhat dyspeptic Herbie Lovell showed us what professional drumming was all about. Paul Griffin, Chuck Rainey, Hugh McCracken, Bernard "Pretty" Purdie - these were names that were mentioned in hushed and reverent tones. And, to be sure, during the making of the first two Dan albums we had on numerous occasions taken the liberty of hiring in a ringer when we felt we needed one and thought we could get away with it. There had been some resistance expressed by our bandmates to the notion that the earnest labors of one of our own faithful musketeers could be equaled or even bettered by the efforts of a mere hireling. But the pharaoh's heart was hard - feeling, as we did, that the facts spoke for themselves (Elliot Randall on "Reelin'," Victor Feldman on "Do It Again," etc., etc., etc.), we could not be moved. Plus, there was the precedent of groups such as the Byrds or the Beach Boys or even the Beatles, who (we had heard) remorselessly replaced band members with session aces, and in doing so obtained outstanding results - not to mention the scrupulous meritocracy enforced by the idealistic bandleaders of the swing era and beyond. What rude auteurs, their hour come 'round at last, slouched towards shameless bicoastalism, their Jazz-pop Tiger! Tiger! Burning Bright? Go figure. Thus we hear the dynamic double drum extravaganza of Jim Gordon and Jeff Porcaro on "Parker's Band," Michael Omartian's crisp crystalline piano on "Rikki," Chuck Rainey's sweet soulful bass on "Any Major Dude," Dean Parks' plangent banjo on "East St. Louis Toodle-oo," Victor Feldman's plangent flapamba, too! on "Rikki," and so on. Once the neural floodgates had been opened upon the possibilities of recording with any and all of our favorite "L. A. Cats," there was no turning back.
To be continued....
-Donald Fagen & Walter Becker, 1999

Rikki Don't Lose That Number

We hear you're leaving, that's OK
I thought our little wild time had just begun
I guess you kind of scared yourself, you turn and run
But if you have a change of heart.

Rikki don't lose that number
You don't wanna call nobody else
Send it off in a letter to yourself
Rikki don't lose that number
It's the only one you own
You might use it if you feel better
When you get home.

I have a friend in town, he's heard your name.
We can go out driving on Slow Hand Row
We could stay inside and play games, I don't know
And you could have a change of heart.

[chorus]

[solo]

You tell yourself your not my kind
But you don't even know your mind
And you could have a change of heart

[chorus]

Rikki don't lose that number
Rikki don't lose that number
Rikki don't lose that number

Drums: Jim Gordon
Bass: Walter Becker
Acoustic Guitar: Dean Parks
Solo Guitar: Jeff Baxter
Piano: Michael Omartian
Percussion: Victor Feldman
Backup Vocals: Donald Fagen, David Palmer

Night By Night

"It's a beggars life, " said the Queen of Spain
But don't tell it to the poor man
'Cause he's got to kill for every thrill
The best he can
Everywhere around me
I see jealousy and mayhem
Because no men have all their peace of mind
To carry them

Well I don't really care
If its wrong or if its right
But until my ship comes in
I live night by night

When the joker tried to tell me
I could cut it in this rube town
When he tried to hang that sign on me
I said Take it down
When the dawn patrol got to tell you twice
They're gonna do it with a shotgun
Yes, I'm cashing in this ten-cent life
For another one

Well I ain't got the heart
To lose another fight
So until my ship comes in
I'll live night by night

[instrumental solo]

Well I don't really care
If it's wrong or if it's right
But until my ship comes in
I live night by night

Any Major Dude Will Tell You

I never seen you looking so bad my funky one
You tell me that your super fine mind has come undone

Any major dude with half a heart surely will tell you my friend
Any minor world that breaks apart falls together again
When the demon is at your door
In the morning it won't be there no more
Any major dude will tell you

Have you ever seen a squonks tears? Well, look at mine
The people on the street have all seen better times

[chorus]

I can tell you all I know, the where to go, the what to do
You can try to run but you can't hide from what's inside of you

[solo]

[chorus]

Barrytown

I'm not one to look behind I know that times must change
But over there in Barry town they do things very strange
And though you're not my enemy
I like things like they used to be
And though you'd like some company
I'm standing by myself
Go play with someone else

I can see by what you carry that you came from Barrytown

Don't believe I'm taken in by stories I have heard
I just read the Daily News and swear by every word
And don't think that I'm out of line
For speaking out for what is mine
I'd like to see you do just fine
But look at what you wear
And the way you cut your hair

I can see by what you carry that you came from Barrytown

In the beginning we recall that the world was hurled
Barrytown people got to be from another world

Leave me or I'll be just like the others you will meet
They won't act as kindly if they see you on the street
And don't you scream or make a shout
It's nothing you can do about
It was there where you came out
It's a special lack of grace
I can see it in your face

I can see by what you carry that you came from Barrytown

East St Louis Toodle-oo
Written by Duke Ellington and Bubber Miley

(Instrumental)

Drums: Jim Gordon
Bass: Walter Becker
Banjo: Dean Parks
Guitar: Walter Becker
Keyboards and Alto Sax: Donald Fagen
Percussion: Denny Dias

Parker's Band

Savoy Sides presents a new saxophone sensation
It's Parker's band with a smooth style of syncopation
Kansas City born and growing
You won't believe what the boys are blowing

You got to come on man
And take a piece of Mister Parker's band

You'll be riding by, bareback on your armadillo
You'll be grooving high or relaxing at Camarillo
Suddenly the music hits you
It's a bird in flight that just can't quit you.

You got to come on man
And take a piece of Mister Parker's band

We will spend a dizzy weekend smacked into a trance
Me and you will listen to
A little bit of what made the preacher dance.
Bring your horn along and you can add to the pure confection
And if you can't fly you'll have to move in with the rhythm section
Either way you're bound to function
Fifty-Second Street's the junction

You got to come on man
And take a piece of Mister Parker's
Clap your hands and take a piece of Mister Parker's
Come on man and take a piece of Mister Parker's band

Through With Buzz

He takes all my money
You know I'm through with Buzz
Yes I'm through with Buzz,
All right, oh yeah, uh huh

He's not very funny
You know I'm through with Buzz
Yes I'm through with Buzz,
All right, oh yeah, uh huh.

I remember when he stole my girl
Drug her all around the world
You know I'm cool, yes I feel alright
'Cept when I'm in my room and it's late at night

Maybe he's a fairy
You know I'm through with Buzz
Yes I'm through with Buzz,
All right, oh yeah, uh huh, all right

Pretzel Logic

I would love to tour the Southland
In a traveling minstrel show
Yes I'd love to tour the Southland
In a traveling minstrel show
Yes I'm dying to be a star and make them laugh
Sound just like a record on the phonograph
Those days are gone forever
Over a long time ago, oh, yeah

I have never met Napoleon
But I plan to find the time;
I have never met Napoleon
But I plan to find the time.
'Cause he looks so fine upon that hill
They tell me he was lonely, he's lonely still
Those days are gone forever
Over a long time ago, oh, yeah.

I stepped up on the platform
The man gave me the news
He said, "You must be joking son
Where did you get those shoes?
Where did you get those shoes?"

Well, I've seen 'em on the TV, the movie show
They say the times are changing but I just don't know
These things are gone forever
Over a long time ago, oh, yeah.

With A Gun

I could be wrong but I have seen your face before
You were the man that I saw running from his door
You owed him money but you gave him something more

With a gun
With a gun
You will be what you are just the same
Did you pay the other man with the piece in your hand
And leave him lying in the rain?

You were the founders of the clinic on the hill
Until he caught you with your fingers in the till.
He slapped your hand so you settled up your bill

[chorus]

When you're born to play the fool
And you've seen all the western movies
Woe to the one who does you wrong
You'll hide in the bushes
Murder the man
with Luger in hand

I understand that you will soon be leavin' town
Don't try to call me when they finally run you down
Just give fair warning any time you come around

[chorus]

Charlie Freak

Charlie Freak had but one thing to call his own
Three weight ounce pure golden ring no precious stone
Five nights without a bite
No place to lay his head
And if nobody takes him in
He'll soon be dead
On the street he spied my face I heard him hail
In our plot of frozen space he told his tale
Poor man, he showed his hand
So righteous was his need
And me so wise I bought his prize
For chicken feed

New found cash soon begs to smash a state of mind
Close inspection fast revealed his favorite kind
Poor kid, he overdid
Embraced the spreading haze
And while he sighed his body died
In fifteen ways

When I heard I grabbed a cab to where he lay
'Round his arm the plastic tag read D.O.A.
Yes Jack, I gave it back
The ring I could not own
Now come my friend I'll take your hand
And lead you home

Monkey In Your Soul

I got one and you want four
It's so hard to help you
I can't keep up with you no more
And you treat me like it's a sin
But you can't lock me in
You want me here with you right to the end
No thank you my friend

I fear the monkey in your soul

Won't you turn that bebop down
I can't hear my heart beat
Where's that fatback chord I found?
Honey don't you think it was wrong
To interrupt my song?
I'll pack my things and run so far from here
Goodbye dear

I fear the monkey in your soul