Name: The Great Conch Train Robbery
Brand: Flying Fish
SKU: 86796
Price: 26.86 GBP
Availability: InStock

The Great Conch Train Robbery

Rating

Album: The Great Conch Train Robbery
#	Song Title		Time
1)	So Good To So Bad	More Info...
2)	June 25 At The Fourth Of July	More Info...
3)	Don't Go To Sleep On The Road	More Info...
4)	Quaaludes Again	More Info...
5)	Going Down To Texas	More Info...
6)	You Ain't Here	More Info...
7)	Rough On The Living	More Info...
8)	He Buys The Wine	More Info...
9)	Yes Mr. Rogers	More Info...
10)	Piece Of Mind	More Info...
11)	The Great Conch Train Robbery	More Info...

Album: The Great Conch Train Robbery
#	Song Title		Time
1)	So Good To So Bad	More Info...
2)	June 25 At The Fourth Of July	More Info...
3)	Don't Go To Sleep On The Road	More Info...
4)	Quaaludes Again	More Info...
5)	Going Down To Texas	More Info...
6)	You Ain't Here	More Info...
7)	Rough On The Living	More Info...
8)	He Buys The Wine	More Info...
9)	Yes Mr. Rogers	More Info...
10)	Piece Of Mind	More Info...
11)	The Great Conch Train Robbery	More Info...

Performer Notes

Personnel includes: Sam Bush, John Hartford, Amos Garrett.
Personnel: Sherry Grooms, Jack Greene, Jeannie Seely, Paul Stephens (vocals); Joe Stuart, Amos Garrett (guitar); Josh Graves (dobro); John Hartford (banjo); Sam Bush (mandolin); Benny Martin (fiddle); Hargus "Pig" Robbins (piano, keyboards); D.J. Fontana, Buddy Harmon (drums).
Recording information: Sound Shop Studios, Nashville, TN.
Unknown Contributor Roles: John Hartford; Sam Bush; Shel Silverstein.
By the time THE GREAT CONCH TRAIN ROBBERY was recorded at the tail end of the 1970s, songwriter Shel Silverstein had long since gained renown through the songs he wrote for Johnny Cash, Bobby Bare, and Dr. Hook, and recorded some quirky albums on his own. On his earlier recordings he flirted with folk, rock, and other styles, but here he comes as close as possible to making a straight country record, complete with hot pickers like Sam Bush and John Hartford. The songs themselves, of course, are typically satirical and uproarious, and Silverstein--who never pretended to be a singer-delivers them in his characteristic endearingly wheezy croak--a rarefied pleasure to be sure, but a consistently rewarding one.